Arrival to the hotel was fun. We had to drive through Quepos to get to Manuél Antoñio. Quepos is an old fishing town, built in the flat land surrounding the harbor, with not surprisingly narrow roads, many of which have been converted to one-way streets to accommodate the increase in traffic that tourism brings. Manuél Antoñio, however, is built on the hillsides of the national park peninsula, with much narrower and more “rustic” streets that aren’t easily converted to one way. It’s like Grand Theft Auto but in real life. There aren’t any posted speed limits because raw physics controls your actual maximum rate. I’m good with math, but I’ll never figure how a 7’ wide transit van and a 5’ wide car can pass side-by-side on an 11’ wide road.

The road gets narrower and narrower until it comes to the very long famously steep (check the TripAdvisor reviews!) driveway to the hotel that drops alarmingly off to the left. We have climbed the tall mountain ridge that is Manuél Antoñio, slithered across the narrow top, and now enter a 1 mile long goat path that immediately drops at about a 30-degree angle back down to the beachfront hotel, about 7’ wide with hairpin turns and an occasional wide spot. We take the attitude that there was no extra charge for this thrill ride and that many before us have taken it. The thought passes my mind that we will need to make this transit a few more times during our stay here, and we resolve to just smile and enjoy it.

We are delivered safely to the reception area, which turns out to just be a place to transfer to a golf cart that takes us the rest of the way to the actual reception on a path that equals the driveway in challenge but is slightly better paved and relatively wide considering we are now in a 4′ wide golf cart. The hotel is built on a cliff above a private beach, and the golfcart pathway that connects all the buildings and rooms looks like the famous Lombard Street in San Francisco. Wendy and I like to hike, but prefer not to have to repel back to our room.

The room is beautiful, as are all the rooms here. There are 7 buildings, each with 6 rooms, half of which are family (suite) units and the other half are singles. Ours is a superior single and has a wonderful view of the Pacific Ocean and an outside porch/lanai with a beverage service counter (all complimentary). All of the cabinets in the service counter have locks, including the drawers, and we are advised to keep them locked when not in the room (and to even remove the key) so that the monkeys don’t rummage through the fridge and drawers looking for treats or things to steal. Some monkeys have learned they can turn the key to open a locked door, we’re told. If you don’t lock your sliding door to the patio, they will get into your room, and you can only imagine how that would turn out.

These White Face monkeys are nicknamed Mafia Monkeys. They will look supremely cute and allow you to get very close to take a picture, then quickly reach out and steal your phone. They hold the phone behind their back and extend the empty hand, waiting for a treat to barter your phone back. They don’t give a hoot about cash; they want food or candy. I gave up carrying a banana in my pocket years ago. They are fond of purses too. We haven’t yet had the pleasure. One monkey in the lobby snuck over to the unattended lobby bar and jumped onto the booze bar. He was quickly and loudly chased away by the desk agent. I thought I recognized him from the Cool Pool Bar at Arenal Springs….

Luckily, the pool and the beach are just steps away from our room (true for rooms in buildings 1, 2 and 3), and we immediately indulge in a cooling plunge and a walk on the beach. The beach sand moves constantly, and it doesn’t take long to see that thousands of hermit crabs are scouring the beach looking for food. It’s no problem, they sense us coming and “hide” by pulling quickly into their borrowed shells. We realize there are no, none, nada shells on the beach, and this is why. The damn hermit crabs have taken them all, leaving only rocks.

We recline for a bit, make a reservation for dinner at the poolside restaurant, joke with the waiter about the stupid weather forecast, which was for torrential rain and thunderstorms, and head back the 100 or so meters to our room. We hit our front door about 5 seconds before a few drops fall, lighting flashes, thunder crashes and the sky opens up. The lighting, thunder and pouring rain continue on for an hour or so until just about 5 minutes before our dinner reservation, and suddenly stop. This particular day we are living charmed lives, and here we are without a lottery ticket…..

Wednesday May 7: We go in-shore fishing today, and we are up at the literal crack of dawn. Breakfast is included with our room (as it has been at all of our hotels), but doesn’t start until 7AM, and our pickup for the fishing boat is at 6:45. The chefs here are extremely accommodating, however, and we were able to put in an advance order to have a custom cooked meal to sit down early and eat in the “big restaurant” (there are two). We set our dine time at 6AM, Wendy ordered yoghurt and granola with a plate of fruit and I custom ordered a ham, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich. They had never heard of such a thing, but we described it, they nodded “si, si”, and the next morning delivered a magnificent breakfast sandwich on Texas toast, with 2 fried eggs! My stomach loves this place.

Our driver, Ronald (“just like President Reagan!”), masterfully maneuvered our transit van through the skinny and very rustic (translation: rough) streets of Manuél Antoñio and Quepos and delivered us safely on time to Quepos Pez Vela Marina. He handed us off to our Captain, Oscar, whose English is sketchy but adequate, and his cheerful demeanor matches his young (and very handsome) cousin Steve, our deckhand, whose much more imprecise English pegged him as likely one of the guys in English class that preferred to flirt with las señoritas rather than listen to lessons. How he passed his fluency test is a mystery. Maybe he spent his senior year in a labor camp. We don’t judge, and we didn’t ask.

Before you can fish you need bait, so that’s the first stop. No, not at the bait shop, there isn’t one. We cruise out of the marina on the 28’ center-console boat and throttle up to cruising speed for about 20 minutes, following some directions being given to Captain Oscar over his cell phone, until we meet a small knot of other boats. Everyone has a small fishing pole with leaders that have about 20 small hooks spaced 6” apart. They are fishing for sardines to use as bait.

The art is to locate a school of sardines (called a “bait ball”) desperately crowding together to avoid the larger predator fish that are trying to eat them, then drop this many-hooked rig down into the center and pull it out. As if by magic, 7-10 silver sardines have bitten the shiny bare hooks and get pulled up and tossed into the live well where they will swim in circles until it’s their turn to be breakfast for a sport fish. We repeated this several times and charged up the bait tank with about 3 dozen baitfish, and we were off to fishing.

Pro Tip: dress lightly, it’s warm out there. Sunglasses, sunglasses, sunglasses. Sunscreen too. Flip flops are best; you are going to get wet. A dri-fit shirt is perfect, long sleeve if you hate the sun. Hat, hat, hat! Don’t wear any clothing you might want to wear to a high dollar gala later on, you’re gonna get wet. An if you’re lucky, you will also get scaly and bloody.

We trolled outside the beach surf line for Roosterfish for about an hour without any luck. It was cool, though, because there was a heavy swell running and we were very close to the backside of the breaking swells, which threw up tremendous spray and mist. We moved after that to Oscar’s favorite fishing hole, an abandoned floating fish farm that provides some underwater structure that attracts smaller fish, and therefore the predators that we were after.

On our way there we were shadowed by a school of 10 small dolphins that were also fishing and probably doing better than us at the moment. I got the sense they were mocking us with their energetic dives and jumps and those smug smirks on their faces. Maybe I’m being too harsh, maybe that’s just how dolphins look.

And we found our prey, in spades. In a span of 30 minutes Wendy hooked and landed a beautiful good-sized Rainbow fish, kind of like a mackerel but with light flaky meat and really good for eating, so we kept it. The captain hooked a nice fish and handed the rod to me. The fish fought like teenager would if you tried to take their cell phone, then broke the line. It wasn’t long before my line hit, and I battled for about 15 minutes to land a trophy-sized Red Snapper (we also kept “Mr. Chubby” for dinner). I remarked to Oscar that “maybe we should just catch one of everything” and while we were chuckling about that his rod lit up and he handed it to me. Again, a big but short battle and the line was bit through right near where the hook used to be. It could have been a small shark, but we didn’t have time to speculate because my rod jumped and this time, I took it easy, played it smart, and landed a nice, average-size Amberjack, which we released since our dinner plate was already overflowing. It was time to head back, and after Oscar cleaned and fileted our catch, we took it back to the hotel via the same GTA level 9 game that delivered us in the morning.

The chef at the “small restaurant” had advised us that it’s called “fishing” and not “catching fish” for a reason, but that if we were to bring back something, he would cook it. We’re not sure he was expecting 10 kilos (about 22 lbs) of fish, but he took it and suggested perhaps the Rainbow could become ceviché and the Snapper could become a special surprise served with veggies and rice. I’m pretty sure the fish of the day will be snapper in the restaurant tonight. Wendy was inspired to a haiku:

Trophy fish displayed as art
Upon a platter
To our delight, so delish

We returned to the restaurant at 7PM, making our way there through a massive downpour that drenched us despite the short distance of 100 meters and the use of 2 golf umbrellas. We were in good spirits however and were handed a towel to dry off. The ceviche was spectacular and the broiled snapper on mashed potatoes with a mango/plantain/squash puree was Michelin 3 Star quality when a drizzle of melted garlic butter was added. There were even breaded “fish fingers” for us to take for a snack the next day. The breading was incredible, like twice breaded to deliver a delicate crust that completely encased the fish. Crispy with a tender center, ten times better than any fish sticks we ate as kids!

Thursday May 9: Today we tour Manuél Antoñio National Park. Our guide, Andy, provided by Iguana Tours, picks us up at the hotel promptly at 8AM and in 15 minutes we’re at the entrance gate. I highly recommend 2 things, if you can afford it: 1) get a guide (in advance, not at the entrance gate), don’t try this yourself or you’ll miss most of what you came to see; 2) arrange a private tour, just the two of you, so you can zip from beast sighting to beast sighting without having to listen to the guide (in variable quality English) explain to the New Jersey grandma everything at least twice.

Andy (remember him from the Pura Vida Uno installment with the Civil War / No Army story?), spoke amazing English. He’s been a guide for 17 years, 12 of them at MANP. Not only does he have extremely well-trained eyes, but he also has extraordinary hearing. The other guides (with larger groups) were following us to stop where we just were, and Andy assisted them with hints about what we saw. He frequently takes my phone to snap photos through his high-powered spotting scope with great dexterity. He even shoots a few narrated videos, so we won’t forget what we saw. My favorite is of the Basilisk lizard eating the small turtle that he spotted literally just inside the entrance gate. In the picture you can see the little turtle’s foot and tail hanging out of his mouth. Andy ends each narration “and don’t forget to find much more on my Instagram channel @AndyTheSpecialist”. Smart move, but it’s cutting into his tip if our blog needs to hype his business (just kidding, Andy)!

Our tour, about 2km and 1½ hours long ends at Manuél Antoñio Beach, where we are given the option of staying for up to 1½ hours or returning with him to the entrance. We brought our bathing suits and sandals and a towel, so we wave ¡adiós! to Andy, take advantage of the nearby changing rooms and pick a spot on the beach. The water is calm, the sand is soft and white, and the water is very pleasant, around 85F. We enjoy the beach for an hour, change back to our hiking gear, and head back to the entrance a little early. Early enough to hit a restaurant outside the entrance for some ice cream, desperately needed in the hot humid weather.

Pro Tip: bring a suit, towel, refillable water bottle and sandals to enjoy the beach at the end of your hike; the changing rooms are nice, the beach has lots of shady spots, and there is a small cafeteria nearby to get a snack and cold drink to make your beach stop even nicer. Pro Tip #2: don’t forget the Gelateria!

Our ride back to the hotel is just as exciting as all the others, but I have to admit that I’m getting used to it. I lived (and drove) for a few years in Boston and this seems very familiar. To this day Wendy still giggles when we’re driving somewhere and I mutter “Boston Mode ON” just before I make that slightly-less-than-legal left turn. You have to have lived and driven in Beantown to understand.

Friday May 9: Our last 2 days here are “free days” with no planned activities. Today we decide to sleep in a bit, have a nice relaxing breakfast in the treetop restaurant, and arrange some transportation into the town of Quepos to walk around and do a little shopping and sightseeing.

Our quiet breakfast is interrupted by the waiters quickly closing all the panoramic sliding glass windows.

The White Face Mafia Monkeys have descended on the restaurant. Once they figure out there won’t be any easy pickin’s from the breakfast guests, they move on to the open-air lobby, where they become a Photo Booth. Really cute, but remember not to get too close when snapping a picture! We walk back to the room (all downhill) and a couple of them stroll along with us. Their gang leader (I have named him Harold for no special reason) decides to test his theory about who the Alpha Primate is in this scene and turns on us to bare his teeth and hiss. I outweigh him by about 100X, and we laugh and keep on walking, and he instantly quits his show of force and saunters off with barely a shred of his pride left.

More like a Mafia Chicken. In your face Harold!

The hotel provides a private van to deliver and pick us up for $15, billed to the room. We highly recommend this as there is a pretty active transportation underground comprised of all sorts of “entrepreneurs” of dubious reputation. It’s also way better than Uber (which is unregulated in Costa Rica and can be unreliable, or worse subject to police checks since it’s technically illegal) or a cab (which can take a very long time to get all the way out to the hotel to pick you up). Our total trip was 4 hours, too much time since we greatly overestimated how much time it would take to walk all of downtown Quepos. But we killed time at the marina in the Runaway Grill snacking on ceviché and chips & salsa and loving the breeze blowing in from the ocean.

Saturday May 10: This is our last full day and is also a free day. Today we will explore the other beach, Playa Espadrilla, just a short walk from the hotel and separated from the private beach by a couple of rock outcroppings. This beach stretches 2 km all the way to MANP. It’s low tide in the morning and we are able to scoot around the rocks.

It’s also the first morning that it has rained. Every day up until now has been a beautiful clear morning, followed by an afternoon rain or thundershower. The rainy season is coming!

We breakfasted at leisure in the treetops Mirador restaurant. We are chatting with the couple from New Zealand eating breakfast next to us when the husband spots something in a tree outside. Finally, our toucan! This is the last checkbox on our Beastie List, and we’re delighted!

We enjoyed a 2 mile (both ways) walk along the water, crossing over several small creeks that had cool water running down from the mountains. There were no hermit crabs to be found, and we figured the reason was that there were very few guava trees to drop fruit to feed them. Playa Playitas, the private beach, is loaded with guava trees that provide nice shade but also lots of fruit.

The hotel has a separate overland path to this beach. Where it ends there are bathrooms, a shower to rinse off, and lots of toys for guests like boogie and surfboards. There are a few guests taking advantage and it looks like a bunch of locals also shredding the decent-sized waves. Since the tide is rising, and the rock outcroppings are now surrounded by breaking waves, we choose this path to return to the hotel. The path terminates at the golf cart road, and soon a cart comes by to take us the rest of the way.

The afternoon is spent by the pool and packing for the trip home.

Our room came with a complimentary laundry service, which we took advantage of, and although we packed in 2 small roller bags and 2 backpack under-seat bags for the 11 days, much of our clothing is clean! Except the bathing suits, which were worn about 75% of the time.

Our bathroom has a large circular shower with walls and floor done in quarried tile meant to evoke the feeling of showering in a waterfall in the rainforest. Our only complaint: it takes forever to get the hot water flowing. I get used to showering in the cool flow from the directly above large shower head, and it does, indeed, feel like a waterfall. There is, smartly, an extendable line to hang clothing on to dry.

Sunday May 11: Our trip home begins before the sun is up. The thoughtful chefs have again prepared some food for us to take on the road and it is waiting for us at the reception desk. There are no Mafia Monkeys to entertain us, likely because I have given them exactly zero treats during our stay. Feed a Mafia Monkey, you have a friend for life. Their Don, Harold, didn’t leave a very favorable impression on us.

Google says the ride to Juan Santamaria International Airport in San Jose will take 3 hours. Our driver, who is waiting for us on schedule at 6AM, obviously plays a lot of Grand Theft Auto, and makes it in a little over 2. Granted, it’s Sunday morning and the traffic is light, but that boy can drive! He passed everything on the road except the one stop we made for el baño.

Our flight on jetBlue is on time, and we bid ¡adios! to Costa Rica. Next trip here, we’re doing the east coast!