PACUARE LODGE, COSTA RICA -- Darkness falls like a shroud in the rainforest.
In one instant, there is light dappling the lush trees and dancing across the froth of a raging river. In the next, faster than a bird can complete a song, there is a blackness so complete it feels like a burial.
Lindor (front, with the horrified look), guide Max Solana (back) and friends.
There is never silence, though. The birds call to one another, the water roars and, at dusk, cicadas rub their hind legs against their stomachs in a rusty, whining purr. Far off in the mountains, monkeys chatter their commentary.
The sounds of nature continue through the ink-stained night and into the fresh warmth of a new day. It's only the humans who are struck dumb here.
Pacuare Lodge, hidden on the banks of the legendary Pacuare River and accessible only by raft or helicopter, is five-star luxury for the eco crowd. The Caribbean-coast setting makes it über-desirable; the commitment to leaving the smallest possible environmental footprint appeals to those who bemoan the shearing and development of pristine land.
Visitors come to the lodge for absolute privacy (Norah Jones and Matthew McConaughey made recent visits), for isolation and the chance to listen to nature without the interference of radios and television. There's an element of living on the edge associated with the lodge, from the strenuous white-water rafting to its doors to the chance to rappel down 60-metre trees while you're there.
Everything at the resort has been brought in by river, says manager Willmann Solano Sanchez.
A bridge to a honeymoon cottage.
"It seems impossible, I know, but it has all come by the water," says Sanchez, who doubles as bartender during the communal happy hour in the main building's open-air second level.
"Because it is difficult to get here, it is so beautiful. Here, it is always green. This is a place people always say they will come back to."
You reach the mouth of the Pacuare River after a 90-minute bus ride from San Jose, Costa Rica's charming capital. The vehicle, blaring North American hits of the 1970s, rises up into the hills. Jeeps laden with coconuts and hands of bananas honk and pass. As Boney M belts out Rivers of Babylon, the bus continues along narrow and surprisingly smooth roads.
After a quick stop for a Costa Rican breakfast of beans and rice, scrambled eggs and some of the world's best coffee, those bound for Pacuare Lodge are dropped off on a gravel road. A hot hike down to the river's edge and the adventure begins.
It's quickly apparent this is no sissy Disney ride.
Travellers are kitted up in life vests and hard plastic helmets. The guides begin the orientation by demanding strict attention. The waters are rough, says Maximiliano Solano, and every detail is important.
"When I say 'paddle!', you paddle," he says. "When I say, 'get down, get down,'" I mean it."
The tourists practise until the guides are satisfied. Five boats set off down the winding river. For a novice, it's an exhilarating ride, part churning roller coaster and part slack-jawed gazing at the luxuriant rainforest. Quickly enough, a passenger in one raft is tossed off during a particularly rough rapid.
"I don't think I was really prepared for this," says Joanne Yawtiz Godino, visiting Costa Rica with her 13-year-old daughter Elise. "I hadn't thought this part through."
There's a stop along the way to clamber up to a waterfall, swim, take pictures and celebrate the halfway mark. Everyone looks proud, extremely wet and already filled with stories for the folks back home.
There are only nine bungalows at Pacuare Lodge and 10 employees, guaranteeing guests will feel spoiled every time they turn around. The best place to sleep is the honeymoon cottage, a stunning room located high in the hills, a good hike from the main lodge and utterly, wonderfully remote.
Lucky couples wake up surrounded by the rainforest and isolated from the handful of other guests. The staff will cheerfully climb the side of the hill and deliver morning coffee.
Many of the employees do double or triple duty, serving as waiters during the elegantly prepared dinners, taking the adventurous on canopy tours and serving as river guides.
Silveriano Barquero, an Auuarai aboriginal who lives in a village almost 90 minutes from the lodge, says his job has made him one of the wealthiest men among the 300 residents.
"Here, I earn money they can't earn other places," says the housekeeper through a translator. He makes about US$300 a month.
The lodge exists without electricity. Showers are solar powered. Each room comes with a crank battery flashlight, essential for making your way back to your room after dinner. Torches are lit in front of each bungalow as the gourmet meals are enjoyed.
The kitchen, whose cooks were taught by Swiss chefs imported for the task, operates on propane.
The guests, no more than 20 at the resort at any time, enjoy fresh-baked bread in the morning and something as lovely as wasabi cream tuna for dinner. People dine communally in a room lit by candles. There's a sense of shared adventure, likely fuelled by the pre-dinner happy hour.
But for real adventure, guests can pay US$40 for a canopy tour. They're equipped with helmets, harnesses, caribiners and a belief in their own immortality. After a hike up in the high hills, the adventure begins on a narrow platform. One at a time, the brave are clipped on to a guide wire and zip-line through the canopy of the rainforest.
At two of the platforms, the only way down is to rappel.
The first step off the platform is an act of faith, a child letting go of its mother's fingers for those halting initial steps. Quickly enough, the sound of euphoric screams fill the treetops.
Departure from the lodge is inevitable and guests steel themselves for the four-hour raft trip back. The rapids are much tougher on this leg and people are washed overboard. There is still the sense of shared victory when the soaked, bedraggled guests arrive at the pickup point.
So much of Costa Rica's beauty has disappeared into the relentless maw of development. Towns like the Pacific Coast's Tamarindo are awash in bulldozers, fresh concrete and shiny signs for gated communities. Much of the appeal of this lovely country is being lost.
But deep in the rainforest, hidden in a place accessible only by the water, lies a treasure. Guests may eventually forget the pulse-throbbing raft ride but they'll never forget the black nights riddled with the sounds of nature going about its business.
lindor.reynolds@freepress.mb.ca
PREVIOUS
