Climbing the Ficus Tree in Costa Rica’s cloud forest town of Monteverde

What is this mysterious tree and why does everybody on the tourist trail talk about it? 

Well, it is a parasite. It latches onto a ‘host’ tree (much like our beloved, Christmas garnish, mistletoe) and feeds off it’s water and nutrients, slowly growing around it, strengthening and maturing. After years of theft, the Ficus drains the life of its victim, which eventually dies. 
The host tree disintegrates. The ficus remains. Self sufficient and hollow. 

Such a blood-thirsty tree exists near the town of Monteverde. You just have to find it.  

Take note – this is the coolest, ‘activity’, Sam and I did in Costa Rica, and it is one hundred percent free.  

With our hostel’s in-depth, hand drawn map in hand, (we stayed at Monteverde Backpackers, it was comfortable, clean and they had an abundance of kitchen facilities. I highly recommend it), we had a rough idea of where we needed to go to reach the entrance to the forest; but there are no physical signs pointing you to the tree’s location. Luckily, I took a photo of the opening and drew a helpful arrow to show future travellers where to go: 

The clearing is pretty much directly opposite the Cloud Forest Lodge. Simple. 

As you make your way through the trees, be aware that you will come across ‘younger’ ficuses that have just started their journey to adulthood, gorging their way around a doomed host tree. These are not ready for you to climb. The beast you’re looking for is marked with a pink ribbon near its base. 

Pink ribbon attached to a tree nearby

This is the forest, sap-sucking, vampire you’re looking for. 

We were there during the low season, so when we arrived, we were the only two souls around. Perfect. Time for a photo shoot. 

Although this didn’t last long. We were too eager to climb the beautifully intricate bark ladder in front of us.  

Setting off up the trunk

We took one backpack between us. Necessary items, such as cameras, phones and a selfie stick, were thrown into it, while unnessary items like, water and raincoats, were discarded near the base. Sam kindly agreed to take it with her, as I am ever so slightly (cough, understatement) claustrophobic, and would have completely freaked out trying to squeeze myself through the final twists and turns towards the top of the tree.  

Sam went first, sussing out the situation. The tree itself is like a natural ladder. But some ‘steps’ are a bit steeper than others, so you need to be very aware of where you place each foot, especially when coming down.  

I’m not going to place a fluffy shroud over it by saying it is easy, because the last few hoists and heaves up through the trunk are quite strenuous. You need to have an indoor rock-climbing head on. You really need to think carefully about how to distort your body and where to place your feet in order to drag yourself up through the narrow passage.

Near the top of the tree

So the best part about this adventure, is that you don’t have to enjoy it solo. Once you’re at the top, as long as you are extremely careful, a couple of you can step out of the tunnel, and onto the canopy. I reckon you could fit three or four people up there at the most. As there was only two of us, and my travel buddy, Morgan Bear, who, as per usual, gets a free ride in the backpack, we were able to take some awesome photos of us enjoying the views of the valley over the treetops.  

Standing on top of the canopy

You don’t need a guide, you don’t need a harness, you don’t need to pay hundreds of dollars, you simply need to be fearless of heights and know how to climb. It’s like regressing back to your childhood instinct of, ‘I could totally get up there’. Granted, when you’re a kid, you often get stuck and need the help of your dad to get you down, but not this time. 

Admiring the Ficus from the terra-firma

Again, Sam went first, assessing the path ahead. Barking (excuse the pun) instructions to stop me panicking. And together, we did it. We reached terra firma, retrieved our belongings and gave a quick, friendly briefing, to a couple waiting patiently at the bottom. 

I mean, it’s not difficult to achieve, but when you’re in the middle of the forest, by yourselves, you can’t help but think about the accidents that could happen as you haul your way up through the middle of a phantom tree. But once you get past that initial fear, it is the coolest thing you can do in Costa Rica. 

All smiles after the adventure

And I repeat. It is free. 

If you do one thing in this adrenaline filled country, (and you won’t, you’ll do much more), do this.  

Just make sure you have travel insurance. 
This post was completed in Sugar Cane Hostel in Medellín, Colombia. It was written to the sound of city birds and the odd spot of traffic.

Ignoring the word ‘budget’ in Costa Rica

As I travelled South through Nicaragua, I met many people that had over-landed from Costa Rica. Some had even left the country earlier than they had anticipated. 

“Oh yeah, it’s a beautiful country, but it’s bloody expensive!” 

Great. There goes my budget of £1000 a month. 

Although upon reflection, as I write this post on the other side of my five week stint, yes, it was expensive, it was like being back in North America, but somehow I am still under budget. And it’s because of cheaper countries like Mexico, Honduras and Nicaragua, that I was able to blow a little bit more money in the land of national parks and adventure. 
A word of advice from one traveller to another – mix up your countries, they don’t all have to be cheap for you to be ‘on budget’. Although to be honest, I don’t spend a lot of money on drinking and nightlife, whereas some backpackers can’t leave a town/city without checking out the party scene. I spend most of my money on food. 

Fortunately, for my first two weeks in Costa Rica, my best friend, Sam, joined me for the ride. We had planned to visit three places, and we were in agreement that we would spend our money on whatever we wanted. No holding back. This was a holiday for her, and a blow out for me. It was also nearly Christmas, so that was another excuse to go wild. 

First stop was Tortuguero, a very small, one street peninsula village, on the East coast of Costa Rica. The main magnetism that attracts tourists here is the national park. But the fun begins with the journey.  

After the not so exciting two bus journeys from Costa Rica’s concrete capital, San José, we came to the end of the road. Literally. The only onward journey is via a long narrow boat that winds its way along a river surrounded by dense jungle for over an hour. When someone spotted a cayman basking on a vertically growing tree, the driver kindly backtracked for us to take photos.

We were very lucky to have a smooth ride and a bright sunlit day. Mainly because all our luggage was on another boat, of which mine had been placed precariously on top of the pile. To this day I can’t believe that we didn’t have to fish it out of the river. 

As is cryptically within the name, Tortuguero is famous for its sea turtles that lay their eggs on the shore. We had just missed the laying season, but every night, if you were in the right place at the right time, you’d see one or two babies cracking their shells and breaking for freedom. We were two of the lucky few. 

Discarded turtle shells in a nest

We caught the miracle of one hatchling frantically flapping his flippers as he scurried towards the sea. I was surprised at how quickly it was over. It must have taken a total of one frightening, exhausting, exciting minute for the creature to drag itself into the waves. And it’s all down to pure instinct upon hatching.  

Baby turtle breaking for freedom – excuse the blurry image, it was dark and he/she was fast

Turtles were not actually our primary reason for visiting tiny Tortuguero, this was just an added bonus. Sam’s priority, which we achieved within the first ten minutes of our three-part, all-day tour, was to spot a sloth. This was the dream ever since she booked her flight, and no sooner had we sat down in our fancy, silent, electric-motor canoe, that our tour guide spotted a three-toed sloth in the depths of the canopy. There were four of us on the tour, and we all looked at each other, open-mouthed, thinking the same thing.  

How did he see that? 

Photo of the three-toed sloth taken on an iPhone 5 through the lens of a telescope

But of course, as the weeks went by, I learnt that tour guides tend to simply, ‘know’, where certain animals will be hiding. There are often hordes of bored looking guides sitting at the entrance to the national parks, promising that we won’t see anything unless we pay for the well-trained eyes of these nature geniuses.  

Fun facts – sloths come down to the ground once a week to poo. They have a moss that grows in their fur which is perfect for sloth moths to live in. When the sloth ventures to Mother Earth to complete it’s business, the moths will lay their eggs in the faeces. The moth hatchlings then fly off to find their own mossy three-toed home to live in. Fascinating stuff. 

So I admit that we wouldn’t have seen a furry/scaly/wriggly soul if we hadn’t paid for the tour, but to be honest, once you’ve been on one guided jungle adventure, you don’t really need to do it in every national park. And Costa Rica is riddled with them. Each with a steep $10 entry fee. Except for Cahuita, which is entry by donation. 

The elegance of a cayman, skimming the surface of the river, completely ignoring our presence

In Tortuguero, we paid $65 for full day tour package with Tortuguero Tours ‘Adventures Close to Nature’, (follow the link to their current website. I believe they are working on a new one, so if the link doesn’t work, you can find them on Trip Advisor). This included a two to three hour canoe tour, a two to three hour day walk through the national park, and a two hour night walk through a privately owned park. It was worth every single cent. We were able to see both the two and three-toed sloth, a cayman, camouflaged reptiles, turtles, frogs and many different types of birds native to Costa Rica.  

This photo of a turtle was taken moments before it fell into the river

It reminded me of my childhood, when I stayed with my family in Wales. We would go on outings to the woods, or the brook, laden down with fishing nets, buckets and tasty picnics. My days and evenings were spent searching for rabbits and badgers, or ‘rescuing’ tadpoles by bringing them home to the safety of our garden pond. Except this time, I was a big time wilderness explorer in Central America, complete with binoculars, rubber boots, torches, and an expert guide carrying a high quality telescope. It was very, very, cool. 

Frog spotting during the night walk

Beyond the national park, there isn’t much else to do in Tortuguero, so we packed up and headed back along the windy river to catch a bus to La Fortuna. We had big plans there. We were going to go on a fairytale horseback ride in glorious sunshine around the base of Volcán Arenal. For months we had it all, excitingly, mapped out.  

Alas, these dreams were slightly foiled. The day arrived, and the rain was relentless. I’m not quite sure what we expected in a rainforest, but when we were discussing the exciting possibilities in a foreign country, away from gloomy England, we naturally thought of sunnier climes. 

The rain didn’t deter us though. We were saddled up and given giant black ponchos to wear. The three of us, Sam, the guide, and myself, were a bunch of bobbing heads on horseback.  

Setting a new poncho trend on horseback

Neither Sam nor I had ridden a horse since we were kids, so we were a little nervous. And we had every right to be. You really don’t realise how high up you are, or how powerful the horse is, until you hoist yourself onto its back and hug your legs against its muscular torso. With the mud and lashing rain, our trusty steeds had a lot of elements to contend with, but they battled on, up and down the slippery, rocky maze of the volcanic landscape. 

The soggy journey

“Horse-riding is simple,” our guide explained. “Lean forward when going up, back when going down, pull reins left and right to steer.” 

Regardless of the simplicity of our instructions, I was constantly aware of the four gangly legs below me that could trip or slip at any moment. But they never did. 

One of the highlights of this tour was passing the abandoned decrepit hotel buildings next to a lake that the facility no longer use. Our guide explained that Volcán Arenal had erupted a few decades ago and it was no longer safe for guests to stay in these lodges. The jungle had already started to claim them, creeping its way through windows and doors, creating a contemporary set of ruins with Arenal as its backdrop. 

View of the volcano from a path near our hostel

We took the horseback tour with Los Lagos, a hotel/spa that offered all types of excursions, and included entrance to their hot-springs, all for around $50 depending on your chosen activity. We actually booked through our hostel, as they had a special rate with the resort, so I’m not sure how much it would be if you booked directly through Los Lagos. We stayed at Howler Monkey Hostel, a new hostel about a two and a half kilometre walk from the centre of La Fortuna. This suited us as it was also about three kilometres away from the trailhead for Cerro Chato, a volcano that you can independently climb. 

After our very wet two hours on horseback, we were very grateful for the inclusion of the hot-springs with the tour. One of the pools had a swim-up bar where you could order food and cocktails, but upon spying the very small white plastic cups which your mojito was un-lovingly poured into, and the excessive cost, we passed. Also, take note of the temperature of each pool, or you just might end up going down a fun looking slide with a shockingly bitter landing. Much to everyone else’s enjoyment. 

Back at the hostel, we used the fantastic (not sarcastic, possibly the best equipped kitchen I’ve ever had the luxury of using in a hostel) kitchen facilities to make our dazzling dinner of veggie omelettes, and washed them down with our perfectly mixed cans of mojitos that were the equivalent of £1. I know we said we were happy to have a blow out on this trip, but our cheap, shop-bought cans, went down a treat for the price. 

Exhausted, we crashed out early in the comfiest hostel beds ever, and slept solidly until the morning. Refreshed and ready to go, we took a taxi to La Fortuna’s bus terminal, and hopped on a bus to Monteverde. 

Which brings us to the third and final expense of our Costa Rican splash out. Another of Sam’s bright ideas, which I was in ninety percent in agreement with, and maybe ten percent apprehensive. Zip-lining through the canopy of Monteverde’s cloud forest. Sounds awesome, right? And it was, until we came to the last task. The Tarzan Swing. Why anybody would want to step off a platform, in the middle of the forest, and hope the wired contraption above does its job, and stops you plummeting to your death, is beyond me. Although I suppose some people could say this about the actual zip-lining, but this to me seems much easier. You have the option to break with your hand safely in a glove, and control your speed. The Tarzan Swing means putting all your faith in your own ability to be able to step off, by yourself. This is the part I struggle with.  

Getting ready for some rappelling. I wish there had been more of this included.

Sky diving: someone is strapped to you and they perform the ‘leap’ out of the plane. Easy. Tick. Did this in New Zealand a couple of years ago. 

Canyon swing: you are strapped to a wooden plank and someone ‘drops’ you into the canyon. Maybe. Could be pushing my boundaries. Not tried this yet. 

Bungee jumping: no explanation necessary. Absolutely not. No thanks. 

As you can probably gather, I was a big wimp and backed out of the Tarzan Swing. I promised Sam I would do it, but when the two Costa Ricans were rapidly clipping me to the ropey device that would ‘save my life’ as it pinged me into the air, I panicked. I’m pretty sure my fingers were crossed behind my back when I promised anyway. Sorry Sam!

Cheeky grin for the camera on a normal zip line

It sounds like I didn’t much like our zip-lining excursion doesn’t it? Well, that’s definitely not true. As I said, I was ninety percent sure of the whole idea. The eleven zip-lines were super fun, and we got to walk across some pretty lengthy hanging bridges that were high up in the trees, which I loved. Thankfully I don’t suffer from vertigo and I’m not afraid of heights. There was a bit of rappelling in the middle of the zip-lines, which was fun. But for me, the main events were the two Superman lines. 

Zipping through the cloud forest.

Our friendly, excitable, Costa Rican adrenaline junkies, strapped us to the wires, vertically. We had absolutely no control over any aspect of this zip-line. Our one job was to hold out our arms, like a plane, and let ourselves be pushed. Perfect. I didn’t have to make the move. 

It. Was. Awesome.  

You really do feel like you’re flying, swooping through the air, gazing down at the green, fuzzy rug-like treetops whizzing by below you. For a whole thirty seconds, you are a bird. 

Again, this was a $50 activity, and even though I chickened out of the swing of death, and I was only ninety percent game, it was one hundred percent worth it. Ironically, we went with 100% Aventura, a company I can highly recommend. Not once did I ever feel uncomfortable or unsafe in the presence of the guides, in fact, they were really comical and made the whole group feel at ease. 

Enjoying the moment

Costa Rica has everything. It is a place you can hike, explore, test your fears, or even relax on the coast with a cocktail. 

It’s expensive, but remember, it’s all relative. Just spend less in another country, and hey presto, you have a little more cash to play with in the heart of the Central American rainforest. 

This post was written to the sound of a contemporary mix of songs with a jazzy twist. The location was Goza Espresso Bar in Cuenca, Ecuador, also known as ‘Gringolandia’ by the locals. I had a double espresso. I never order single espressos.  

Battling the ascent of Volcán Concepción…

…then the knee-splitting descent back to terra firma. 

I had hiking boots in my backpack that were gathering cobwebs. Apart from the odd outing around some ruins and archeological sites, they hadn’t really been put to work on my trip, and I was already 4 months in.

I digitally flicked through my Lonely Planet guide and found a solution. I would go to the Island of Ometepe (Isla de Ometepe), in Nicaragua, and climb a volcano.  

During my stay in Granada, I spoke to a couple of travellers that had done it, and some that had shied away from the challenge. “Oh I just hung around the island, it was pretty.” I knew I wouldn’t personally be satisfied with this, this ‘hanging around’, not when a place oozed a presence of so much adventure. So I started gathering info. 

There were two volcanoes to choose from. One, Volcán Maderas, boasting a luscious green hike through jungle to its 1394m peak. The other, Volcán Concepción, promised a gruelling hike through forest, fields, and scrabbling up lava scree, to its 1610m peak, upon which, people have fallen to their deaths. Naturally I chose the active challenge that was Concepción. Because that’s nature. We are drawn to the dangerous. Well I am anyway. Sorry Mum. And Dad. 

View of Volcán Concepción (left) and Volcán Maderas (right), from the boat, on an unusually clear day.

I stayed in Hospedaje Central, for three nights. I spent the first two days asking the hostel if anyone had shown interest in tackling the volcano, but the response was always negative. I was recommended an agency in Moyogalpa, but for some reason, every time I went to enquire, they were closed.

Enjoying the delights of the fresh seafood on the island.

On the second night, after a day of whizzing around the island on the back of a moped, I was in luck. Six other people had shown interest in the trip for the following day. I instantly put my name down and ordered the food parcel with three litres of water for the trek ahead.

The sunset at the Punta Jesús María peninsula.

I say six, and four people were definitely up for it, but the two British lads needed a bit of convincing. A few beers and some Dutch courage sealed the deal. Their names were down and the fee was paid. As there were seven of us altogether, we got the whole day’s trek, with a guide, for $15 each. Bargain. If I had caved and booked the trip solo, it would have cost double, maybe more.

So I dusted off my hiking shoes, packed my cameras and extra snacks, and let my head hit the pillow early. My hideous alarm rang in my ear at 4:30am. A quick change into my hiking gear and I was totally ready for an egg breakfast sandwich. I still dream about that sandwich. The yolk seeping through the fresh tomato, soaking into the crusty fresh bread. The crunch of the juicy lettuce.

Sorry. I digress.

There was a bit of a mix-up with our guide and transport, so we left the hostel an hour late, but it was okay, as we were at the trailhead around 6:00am and made good time. We were a reasonably fit bunch of backpackers, considering that two of our troop, with their original intentions of an ‘early night’, were sporting unplanned hangovers. Spirits were high, though, as we trekked for twenty minutes across soft sand to the base of the volcano.

View of Volcán Concepción from a mirador (lookout) on the other side of the island.

There was a little rest-stop shop that offered the use of walking canes and the last opportunity to purchase extra supplies. I was already weighed down by more water than I would actually drink, so I simply opted for the free use of the wooden cane, topped with a carved lion’s head. Our worse-for-wear British companions decided to buy a couple of cans of Toña (Nicaraguan’s lager) to celebrate at the peak of Concepción.

And so we began.  

I enjoyed the initial chit-chat of ‘where do you live?’, ‘how long are you travelling for?’, ‘what did you study?’, etc, when suddenly we were all breathing hard and the conversations dwindled. We clambered over tree roots, hoisted ourselves up steep muddy ridges and ducked to avoid hanging branches.  

Relieved, we stopped for a quick break. Hanging off our canes and swigging water, we regained composure. Sweat was beginning to show on all our pale foreheads, glistening with flecks of mud and grit.  

“Is the pace okay?” Asked the guide. 

“Yeah, fine, good.” We all replied. 

“So how many metres have we climbed?” Someone asked. 

“About one hundred. One thousand, five hundred to go.” 

Pause. 

“Yeah, great, awesome, let’s keep going.” We mumbled. 

Crap. We thought. 

For the first six hundred metres, we continued to climb through unruly jungle, hauling ourselves through the undergrowth, occasionally panting up a set of wooden steps that had been installed to ‘aid’ with the ascent. We stopped every couple of hundred metres, just to regain control over our breathing and replenish the litres of water we were losing with each sweaty step. 

An hour and a half into the hike, and we finally emerged from the oppressive dark cave of trees and bushes, into an expanse of what I can only describe as, a vast, open, green field. I looked back to see the thicket of forest we had trudged through, and above it was our first view of Ometepe’s valley. 

View of Ometepe as we emerged from the forest.

We were lucky that the heavy morning clouds had already started to lift, teasing us with a glimpse of the blocks of fields below. Neat hedges separated each plot of land. It reminded me of where I live, in the South-West of England, where sheep and farms drench the landscape. The view would be short-lived, though, as the ascent would take us back into a canopy of thick relentless cloud.

We stopped for a much needed rest, where the guide explained the next four hundred metres of our route. We were to follow the gradual incline of the grasslands, enjoying the welcoming breeze and open space, until we reached the final part of our ascent. 

Although none of the hike was easy, the middle section did seem to take less of a toll on my already aching legs. After an hour of this ‘leisurely stroll’ we eventually came to the crux of our journey. The part we’d all heard so much about.  

“A couple of tourists died on this part last month.” Our guide helpfully informed us. “They tried to do it alone, with no tour.” 

Well at least we had that going for us. 

I stared at the forty-five degree angle of the cliff-face in front of me. I knew of a traveller, staying at our hostel, who had almost reached the summit the previous day, one hundred metres or so away. She told me that her fear was embedded in the descent. She truly felt that she would fall, and so she panicked, and turned around.  

The guide warned us that the next six hundred metres would be tough and to be extremely careful. One wrong move and we could be shooting down a slide of gravel and lava scree. But we weren’t to worry too much, because a seventy-two year old woman had completed this hike in the past. 

Gathered around the guide to receive important information.

I heard a hiss and turned around to see that a can of Toña had accidentally split, and our British friend was desperately trying to drink the liquid from the side. We all had a giggle at the premature celebration, and with renewed energy and determination, we pushed forward, leaving the safety of the spongy grass and entering the black zone of those pesky rocks and boulders.

Volcanic rocky terrain of Volcán Concepción

It wasn’t long before we had all split-up, each of us going at our own pace, being careful where to place each foot. Time was slow and I seemed to be making minimal progress. But naturally, as the clock ticks, no matter how small the step, you are progressing, edging further forward, moving with time.

In short, none of us turned back. We all slogged on, one by one, we made it to the top of the cloud covered peak. Sweat and the moisture clung to our hair. We’d made it in about four hours. I was proud of us. We took a group photo, a permanent imprint of the bond we had created while hiking up that unforgiving volcano. We ate, and laughed and conversed, all for a glorious twenty minutes. It was brief, but we relished the relief and respite. 

Our wonder-group at the summit. Proud moment.

And then it got cold. Sweat started drying on our backs and the layers we had whipped off throughout the morning, were slowly re-blanketing our bodies.

 

Proving that I conquered the summit. Accompanied by Morgan Bear. Once again, he gets a free ride.

One final look at the crater that none of us would ever see again, (unless some crazy soul felt a burning desire to re-hike the volcano, which I highly doubt), and we began the same journey in reverse; slowly.

Very slowly.

Going down is not my forte. I have terrible issues with my knees, so if I don’t descend at pace, there’s risk that they’ll just give up. This was a problem. Because pace was not an option. Not unless I wanted to plummet to my doom. Which I didn’t.

With an hour of slipping and sliding down the scree and losing my footing among the hidden loose boulders, my poor knees weren’t doing so good. Shaking and wobbly, I started to lag behind. I couldn’t even see my group anymore, which to be honest, wasn’t difficult because the cloud was still too thick to see much in front of my own face.

But I walked up the volcano, so I had to get myself down. I knew the way, and I wasn’t nervous anymore, I just focused on the repetitive task of walking sideways for stability and leaning heavily on my life saving wooden cane.

Re-emerging from the cloud during the descent. 

I won’t bore you with anymore details of the descent, because the scenery was all the same. We managed to get back to the rest-stop, as a group, in another four hours. With all the breaks throughout the day, we managed to complete the hike in nine hours. Not bad considering the danger and difficulty of the hike.

Upon our return to the hostel, we headed straight for the showers, embracing the welcoming cold, clean water (as is a norm in Nicaragua; good luck finding hot showers when travelling on a budget).

It was a bit early for bedtime, even though we all wanted it, so to keep us from taking naps that would probably last until 3am the following morning, we hung out in the hammocks, drank a couple of mojitos and dozed in the quiet of the hostel garden.

A quick meal with the new ‘family’, a cheeky piña colada, and I was done. We all were. Pyjamas on and lights out.   

Life is good. And it only gets better. 

This post was written to the tranquil sounds of birdsong in the garden area of ‘The Lion’s Bear’ restaurant in Vilcabamba, Ecuador. I had homemade fish fingers on a bed of homemade tartar sauce, with honey glazed baby carrots and wilted greens.  

Peru to Ecuador via La Tina border crossing

If, like me, you want to overland to Ecuador from Peru, but you can’t find any concrete information regarding the journey, don’t panic. It has come to my attention that there are crucial facts missing from guidebooks and the internet; concrete directions on transferring from one bus to another, for example.  

I have written this blog to try to iron out some of the misleading/outdated/hazy information online. It is a guide that will take you from Peru, via the La Tina border, and straight to Loja in Ecuador. 

I started my journey in Lima. You might be starting further North, but the route is essentially the same. First of all, you need to get yourself to Piura. 

Side note: If you plan to overland via Tumbes and head to Guayaquil in Ecuador, this is not the right information for you.

So my intended route was: Lima – Piura – Loja. This all seemed simple enough on paper, but catching a bus from Lima is a bit of a minefield, as there are so many different terminals. You can’t simply walk to a main station and check timetables. I found that the best way to search for a bus, was to use the Bus Portal website. It is not always the cheapest option, but in Lima, it’s the definitely the easiest. I chose to go with Oltursa and to leave from Gran Terminal Terrestre Plaza Norte. I advise that you use Uber in Lima, as it is much cheaper than the transfers booked in hostels or taxis on the street. 

It is possible to go from Lima to Loja without having to stay in Piura overnight, you just need to make sure you work with the bus schedule in each place. I found out that there is a bus company in Piura called, Transportes Loja, which leaves around 9:30am, 1pm and 9pm, every day. I chose to take an overnight bus from Lima at 7:30pm, as it would arrive in Piura at 11:30am the following day. Perfect. Plenty of time to get to make the 1pm Tranportes Loja bus. Or so I thought.

I tried to research where this elusive terminal might be, but this is where the conflicting information began, so I decided I would just take a taxi to it, that way I wouldn’t be able to get lost. 

When I arrived in Piura, I checked how far Transportes Loja might be, and she told me it was a 10 minute walk. That was the taxi option out of the question. I made it my mission to find it using my minimal Spanish and awful sense of direction. However, it turned out to be a completely different company to the one I was looking for, and the only bus that served Loja was at 8pm. This was no good, I would have to wait 7 hours for the bus as well as arrive in Loja at 4am. 
Back on the street, I kept asking for the terminal. I finally found someone that sent me to a company called Ronco. Again, I knew this wasn’t what I needed, but I had nothing else to go by, so I followed the directions and took the advice. As was to be expected, no bus to Loja. I asked at the Ronco desk, out of desperation, for Transportes Loja,and they sent me through a door at the back of their waiting room. 

There, in the corner of a little bus depot, was my beloved bus terminal, and I had 30 minutes to spare before the 1pm bus. Success. 

Loja Terminal front desk, to prove that it exists

Screenshot to help you find the correct bus terminal

As you can see from my Google Map, there are quite a few bus terminals in the same area. When you book your bus in Lima, be sure to find out where it’s going to spit you out in Piura so you know how far away you are from the Loja terminal. Also, if you need to ask for directions, locals may call it ‘Loja International’, this is okay too, it should be the same place. If you are worried about being sent to the wrong place, as I was, simply ask for the Ronco terminal. It is on the road called, Loreto Norte and is opposite the Flores bus terminal.

There are little bakeries and shops around this area. I recommend stocking up on an empanada or 2 for the journey to Loja. It is 8 hours and there aren’t really any stops. I think they break once on the other side of the border, but it’s not long enough to get food, so just stock up on snacks before you get on the bus. 

The 1pm bus arrives in Loja around 9pm. Depending on where you’re heading next, will depend on whether or not there is possibility of an onward bus at this time. I wanted to head to Vilcabamba, but all the buses had stopped running, so I walked out of the bus terminal, crossed the road and headed towards some 24 hour accommodation called Hostal Gaviota Azul. A private room with double bed and private bathroom was $15. Perfect when you have been travelling for what feels like a week and you smell like travel (and in my case vomit, as I was victim to some child’s backlash). And only a 2 minute walk from the main bus station. Absolutely perfect. 

So to recap:

• Catch a bus from Lima to Piura (easy – there’s loads of options on the website I gave you) 
• Make sure the bus arrives in Piura an hour or so before your next bus 
• If you need to stay in Piura overnight, there’s a place called Hotel Inca Perú near all the bus terminals. It’s on the road called Tumbes. This is where I received the information about Ronco bus terminal, so they were very helpful. You might have a decent night of rest here. 
• Catch the bus from Transportes Loja at the back of the Ronco bus terminal on Loreto Norte. 
• Enjoy the ride from Piura to Loja. The border is nice and easy. There is no fee at this border. 
• Arrive in Loja and check onward buses or stay overnight. 

It might be an idea, before you head off from Lima or otherwise, to screenshot all the terminals you will need to find. For example, if you type ‘Ronco Piura’, into Google maps, it will definitely come up with the goods.
If you have any questions about my experience of this border crossing, feel free to get in touch or comment on this post.

I really hope this helps.
This post was written to the birdsong surrounding Hostal Izhcayluma in Vilcabamba Ecuador.

Destination Nicaragua – León

From Honduras, I travelled straight to León, a fairly small town in Nicaragua, but according to my new bank of knowledge, very popular with the tourists. This was one of the recommended backpacker hotspots, and true to form, Bigfoot Hostel (busy party hostel offering popular tours), and Via Via (hostel boasting a large bar and ample space for music and dancing), occupy the same street. I opted for a hostel just around the corner, complete with snoozing cat on the free-to-use pool table, and guaranteed quiet relaxing mornings. Las Vacaciones was away from the pumping centre, but still within walking distance of everything. You can’t beat a free breakfast of fluffy pancakes with fresh banana and maple syrup either.

  

The hostel feline, showing us how to relax

So, with my first full day in León ahead of me, I grabbed a free map from the information table. Eager to explore, but still a little nervous about strolling around Nicaragua, a place I had led myself to believe was riddled with crime and danger, I took out my trusty, fancy, black Bic Biro, and drew myself a route. I intended to visit all thirteen churches in one day, because that’s what I’m like. I’m a planner. I often feel a heavy guilt if I don’t see absolutely everything that a place has to offer. Naturally, I also needed to pinpoint where the best eateries were; never miss an opportunity to taste your way around a country.

Indio Viejo in Cocinarte vegetarian restaurant – a Nicaraguan dish that translates as ‘Old Indian’. Although this version is vegetarian, the stew-like dish originally contained any meats and vegetables that were native to the region.

With my map in hand, my ‘lifeline’ for the day, I opened the metal gate and stepped onto the street. It clunked heavily behind me, locking me out. The sun was rife. It was only ten in the morning, and it was hot. Thank goodness for factor seventy sun lotion.

Keen to get moving, I started to follow my intended route, towards the first attraction. Now I may not be the most religious person around, in fact, I’m not religious at all, but I do have the ability to appreciate breathtaking architecture when I stumble upon it. And in Nicaragua, this is not hard to find. After a simple, less-than-five-minutes walk from my hostel, I turned a corner, and there, in front of me, wedged between two exposed red-brick bell towers, was Iglesia El Calvario, a masterfully painted, beautifully bright, yellow church. Unfortunately, it was not open at the time, so I marvelled at the skilfully painted religious murals on the front of the building; above the door, central and proud, was Jesus’ portrait, nailed to the cross. I tried to imagine the ornate and antique treasures that might be inside. Little did I know, the interior may not have been as grand as I was dreaming.

Aside: apologies for the lack of photo here, a lot of my León snaps are on my camera memory card, which has already made the journey back to the UK. Please follow this link to the Iglesias El Calvario Trip Advisor page where you can view other travellers’ photos.

While admiring the façade, I was joined by an Asian family who were also touring the town, following the same map. It was the first time I started to feel at ease in Nicaragua. This was the moment that I stopped fretting and allowed myself to sink into the pleasures of being a stranger in a foreign country.

Next stop was Central Park. No, not the New York City kind, but the Central American kind. Every major town/city seems to have one. Even the tiny island of Flores in Guatemala had a mini Parque Central. Don’t be deceived by the word ‘parque’, though. They’re not the kind of place you roll around in the sunshine and get grass stains over your summer frock. Most of them are concrete jungles teeming with merchants, locals and tourists. Generally the main centrepiece of each square is the biggest religious building of the area. The cathedral. And León’s is pretty spectacular.

Front of the Cathedral in Parque Central

Extract from the twenty-thirteen Lonely Planet’s Central America on a Shoestring: ‘The cathedral was having a face-lift at press time but should be completed by the time you read this.’

Well their prediction was seventy-five percent close. When I was there in November, the front of the building looked sparkling, straight out of the packet, brand new; you almost needed your sunglasses to look directly at it. But one of the sides hadn’t been touched by even the slightest lick of paint yet, and the opposite side to that still had scaffolding scaling the side of it.

Untouched side of the cathedral with the original lion statues

At this rate, I don’t even think the Cathedral’s restoration will be complete by the time the updated edition of the Lonely Planet is released.

Repairs aside, I sat down under the shade of a tree in the park and studied the spruced up cathedral. Upon reflection and a closer examination, I noticed that the tops of the bell towers were already falling victim to weathering. The mixture of humidity, scorching heat and damaging rain can’t be easy to contend with. 

As was to be expected, the inside of the cathedral does not disappoint, and not because it is adorned with riches and expensive décor, in fact, the interior is quite plain. Finally. There are a few flashes of gold paint here and there, but most of the walls are a neutral off-white, complimenting the clean stone flooring (Nicaraguan’s are forever sweeping). 



Inside the cathedral. This is one of the only golden treasures I have seen in the Central American places of worship

An 0pinionated aside: Something that bothered me when I was in South East Asia, was how elaborately decorated their places of worship are; absolutely bursting with golden Buddhas, ornate furnishings, and ancient precious jewels behind glass casing. Yes, they are beautiful spaces to enjoy, but you are then expected to leave offerings and donations all over the place. I would often see people that were obviously living in poor conditions, giving away precious coins to their faith, when they probably needed it for more pressing amenities, like food. I don’t disagree with the concept of religion, because I believe that everyone has a right to be able to seek comfort from wherever they choose, but I disagree with the way it has become such a heavily money orientated society. The simplicity of León’s grand cathedral took me by pleasant surprise.

In time, I have learnt that most of the churches in Central America share the same simple and clean interior, and I like it. The space is always airy, the ceilings high, and the people are friendly. Nobody badgers you for donations or payment. Wandering in and out of these religious spaces is relaxing and enjoyable.

You can pay a small fee to explore the roof of the cathedral

León isn’t all about churches and cathedrals. Oh no. It’s also about ice cream. A couple of blocks away from the hostel is a little haven called Kiss Me, where they sell the most delicious vodka sorbet. If you’re cheeky, like me, you can ask for a couple of samples before you choose your poison. I went for the luminous purple dragonfruit, teaming it with the super sweet, refreshing, passionfruit sorbet. And the cone is homemade, so naturally I opted for full frozen euphoria.

Me eating sorbet from Kiss Me.

It was over in minutes.

The oppressive thirty-two degree heat was not going to let me eat my treat in peace. Before I knew it, I had sticky purple juice dribbling down my hand, like a child. But it was all ‘oh so’ worth it.

So what is the big draw to a town of religious architecture? Why do backpackers flock there? You’ll never guess so I’ll just tell you.

If you pay around $20-$25, you can book a tour in which you drag a plank of wood up a volcano for an hour. Super exciting, eh? Well actually, it is. Cerro Negro is active, and once you get near the top, you can feel it’s heat if by hovering your hand above the black sand. You can’t get too close to the crater’s edge, but you can get close enough to smell the sulphurous fumes it emits.

At the summit of Cerro Negro

So that pesky wooden board. Why did our group adorn ourselves with such a burden? You may have guessed already. It was our ticket down. We shimmied into big oversized blue boiler suits, pinged on a pair of goggles and put on some handy, if a little over-used, somewhat protective, gloves. Our guides demonstrated the movements for speed, slowing down, breaking and turning, although I can tell you now, the manoeuvring is s lightly more complicated than they let on. Just plan on going straight and you’ll be fine.

Walking up the volcano with our boards

I was the last of the group to sit on the board and ready myself for the signal (our guide had positioned himself halfway down and would wave his hat when the path was clear). Annoyingly, I had to wait an unbearably long time, because the girl that went before me seemed to struggle to get going, or actually, move at all. I reckon she dragged herself the whole way down the volcano with her feet.

Our guide explaining the rules of volcano boarding

The white hat flicked into the air, so I lent back and I lifted my legs. The board slid over the sand with ease and it wasn’t long before I started picking up some decent speed. I’m not normally much of an adrenaline junkie, but I’m trying to stop being a wimp with activities like this, so I put all my trust into the board, and my ability to break if necessary.

In no time at all, I was bombing past the guide, waving to his video camera. But the joy of the speed and the blustery wind on my face was short-lived. The girl in front of me still hadn’t reached the bottom of the volcano. I tried to turn with my feet, but I just kept going straight. Before it was too late I slammed my feet deep into the black sand and stopped. I waited about ten more minutes before I could continue my decent, all hope of a clear run behind me.

Our volcano boarding group

To this day, I’m a little frustrated that my own volcano boarding experience had been tainted, especially as it was something I happened to be quite good at. So whenever someone asks me if I did it in Nicaragua, I just say, ‘yeah, it was so awesome!’ And I leave it at that.

And you know, it was, I truly loved it. I would have dragged that board up Cerro Negro for another hour and done it again if I could.

Back in León, I washed three times in the shower to scrub all the sand out of my hair and off my body. I had a lovely chill in the hostel and found some cheap delicious, if a little oversized, street food for my evening meal. I ate half of the monster portion and had the rest bundled up in a banana leaf before heading to the cinema to watch Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Just like a local.

Pre-cinema street food of chicken, caramelised plantain, salad, rice and beans, all for £3
This post was written to a mixture of Ellie Goulding’s albums on my iPod while flying from Costa Rica to Mexico City. I finished and tweaked it during my flight from Mexico City to Lima the following day. During this moment, as I complete the post, I am listening to Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve.

Planning and prepping for an adventure

How do you decide where to go? Is it within your budget? What public transport options are available? Will it be dangerous? Can I travel solo? What activities can I do there?

You can take risks and travel smart at the same time. It’s a skill that’s taken a long time to develop and nurture, but I think I’m getting the hang of it. That is, until the next series of mishaps, which let’s face it, are unavoidable. There’s no such thing as perfection in the world of travel.

When we dream about visiting faraway lands, we can sometimes let excitement cloud our judgement. The adrenaline we feel when deciding what plane ticket to buy, can cause us to forget that some trips require a bit more planning than simply bashing your credit card details into the internet. The world is only your ‘oyster’ until something goes wrong.

So with seven countries and six months behind me, it’s time to reflect on where I have been and how I executed my route; and I must be doing something right, because I’m still happy, healthy and bobbing from place to place.

First of all, you need to know that I am guilty of almost skipping Nicaragua. Shocked? In hindsight, I am appalled at myself. 

Here’s my story:

Way back when, in the first quarter of twenty-sixteen, I started researching my trip. I’d purchased my one-way ticket to Toronto and had further plans to visit my friend while he was in Mexico City, so what next? I bought both Lonely Planet’s trusty Central And South America on a Shoestring guidebooks, because that seemed like the natural root from Mexico.

Handy smartphone and tablet friendly PDF copy of Lonely Planet’s Central America on a Shoestring 

“Is it safe?”

“I don’t know, Mum, I haven’t researched yet.”

“Be sensible, Lauren. You’re a single female traveller this time.”

And of course, she was right. Mum normally is.

Cue Facebook message from said parent: You’ve made a typo in your latest blog post. You put ‘normally’ instead of ‘always’. Don’t worry, I’ll let you off.

I instantly plunged into the depths of the internet and googled the logistics of travelling through Latin America. Once I owned those travel books, I was determined.

In the UK, our ‘go-to’ website for this kind of information is the government travel website, as it’s supposed to be accurate and is regularly updated. Most of the countries seemed to throw up the usual issues, such as petty crimes, mugging, drug trafficking etc. ‘Exercise caution as you would at home’. But Nicaragua appeared to showcase a few more issues than this, so many in fact, that I didn’t bother reading the majority of the negative essays attached to each link. So I promised that I wouldn’t go; I intended to pass straight through and head to Costa Rica.

Upon starting my journey through Central America, as is to be expected, I met many backpackers that had commenced their travels as far South as Panama, and were making their way to Mexico. In the cosy common areas of hostels, we would share our experiences and offer lists composed of our near-future wanderlust plans. Every time I mentioned skipping Nicaragua, I received many different reactions, the only element they had in common was negativity.

“But why?”

“You can’t, it’s amazing.”

“You’ll be missing so much!”

I felt the excitement for my chosen route diminish. Rapidly. I pleaded with these like-minded free spirits; “but it isn’t safe, right? Especially for a lone female traveler? Isn’t there too much unrest? Too much crime?” Again, those disapproving looks.

Loaded with new information and stories of golden experiences, I battled with my inner-being. Do I stay on track, or do I cut my planned two weeks of diving in Honduras? Should I set foot in a completely unknown (I hadn’t even bothered reading the Nicaraguan section of the guidebook) and previously off-limits land? Do I break my promise?

I broke my promise.

Carrying a plank of wood up a volcano in Nicaragua. Why? Blog post to follow…

Like a kitten with a saucer of milk, I drank the precious knowledge in the Lonely Planet and roughly planned a route through the country.

“Mum, I’ve decided to see Nicaragua.”

“But it’s not safe.”

“It’s fine, there’s hundreds of backpackers doing it, I’ve met loads of them.”

Traditional Nicaraguan dancing. Both performers are men

I can’t quite remember how I convinced her, I’m not sure if I ever did, not until I was on the other side, travelling to Costa Rica.

“Your photos are amazing, I might look into visiting Nicaragua.”

“You definitely should, Mum, it’s breathtaking.”

The food is pretty breathtaking too

In non-scientific, completely opinion-based conclusion, what I’m trying to stress here, is not that we should ignore travel advice, or rush off around the world without a thought for personal safety, but we should definitely be more open-minded about where we plan to leave our footprints.

Artisan bus shop at Zopilote Eco Village on Isla de Ometepe, Nicaragua

Here’s what I’ve learnt:

• Read the ‘dangers and annoyances’ sections of guidebooks. They are written by travel experts for a reason.
• Read blogs and get a snapshot of other people’s experiences.
• Make and share your own opinions. If you go to a country and you don’t feel safe, leave.
• As much as I value the UK government website, I recommend using with caution. I’m probably going to put it in my, ‘things to be aware of’, pile of notes, rather than make a decision based purely on this information.
• Use your common sense.
• Be aware of world affairs.

Nicaragua has so far turned out to be my favourite Central American country. I did not feel threatened or out of my depth, the people are very friendly and helpful, and the public transport is easy to navigate. If you do not know any Spanish, you can rock up to a bus station, say your destination in a questioning tone, and someone will definitely point you in the right direction. Of course you still need to have your wits about you, but this probably applies in your own country, too; so why would you let your guard down anywhere else?

Enjoying a sleepy chicken bus ride with the locals

This post was written to the deep base of semi-rap/hip-hop/Caribbean mix of music in Roadshack Deli in Uvita, Costa Rica. I ordered a veggie burger with a mix of potato, yuka, and plantain fries. I left the bun.



Diving, diving and more diving – choosing a school and other logistics

Why didn’t I actually explore Honduras? One word. Diving. Really? Is it that obvious? 

Two and a half years ago, my travel partner, Sam, and I booked our PADI Open Water course on the Thai island of Koh Tao. We loved it so much that we also completed the Advanced course. This has equipped us with the skills to be able to dive up to thirty metres in depth.  

The poster for Dreamgate’s cenote near Tulum Mexico. The hardest cenote to navigate. 

A couple of years on, and I proudly have thirty-two dives under my belt, ten of which were in the cenote caverns near Tulum in Mexico. Quite the achievement for someone that suffers from claustrophobia.

Me diving in a cenote

So what is that draws us to the dangerous impossible world below the depths of the ocean? The keyword here is ‘impossible’. Because impossible it is not. Not anymore. Modern day dive equipment is lightweight, (let’s forget about the oxygen tank for now…) streamline, and with professional yearly servicing, safe. The bottom line is, humans are not meant to breathe underwater, but with the combination of science and technology, we have access to a calming, tranquil environment, and the ability to observe the bizarre creatures that share the planet’s treasures with us.

Carwash – my favourite cenote

Entrance to Dreamgate

Diving can be an expensive hobby. It requires a range of equipment that is not compact and not really fit for travel. Here’s a list of the basics you need to dive:

• BCD (Bouyancy Control Device)
• Regulator
• Mask (with snorkel)
• Fins
• Wetsuit or drysuit (temperature depending)
• Weight belts and weights
• Oxygen tank

That’s quite the list, right? And that’s assuming you’re simply fun diving with a dive master to guide you. They will have other added extras equipped, such as a dive computer (this looks like a big waterproof watch) to monitor depth, time and navigation.

Oxygen tanks on our dive boat

So how exactly are we able to freely access this sport? Renting of course! The equipment is often included in the price when you book your fun dives or courses, but this is not always the case, so be sure to check. Even though it’s unnecessary for you to have your own gear, it is recommended that you purchase your own mask. There is nothing worse than not being able to find one that fits your face. An ill-fitting mask can lead to water leakage and an uncomfortable dive experience. It’s not much fun when your spectacles are too foggy or you have to keep stopping to clear them of flooding.

So you’re in a new coastal town and there’s a vast array of dive centres to choose from. Take your time to shop around. Check their online reviews, prices and photos. Go in and talk to them directly. Ask to see the equipment. Sometimes, it’s better and safer to pay more for your dives if the rental gear looks well maintained. You could even go as far as discussing the different dive sites they will take you to and what you might be able to see.

Sometimes, it simply pays to go with the cheapest option around, and after spending over $600 on ten fun dives in Tulum’s cenotes, I was looking for a bit of light relief on the purse strings.

As recommended by many, the island of Utila, an hour’s boats ride North of Honduras, is one of the cheapest places in the world to learn and enjoy diving. After extensive research online and a number of emails requesting prices/details, I chose the least expensive dive centre on the island. $210 for ten fun dives with five nights of accommodation and free use of their kayaks and snorkelling equipment. They even gave me an additional night free as I had nowhere to stay when I arrived. This awesome place is called Paradise Divers. It is conveniently located right next to the dock, so I didn’t even need to haul my backpack any further than a few hundred metres. Always a travel bonus.

View of Paradise from the ferry 

It was low season when I arrived, so the centre was very quiet, but they were still putting on a big barbecue for all their friends that night and had invited the diving guests. I instantly felt welcome. In a three bed dorm, I had the room to myself for the entire week. Just in front of the reception was a common area with tables and benches for you to eat, socialise, or more importantly, crack open a bottle of post-dive beer. We also had our own dock where the dive boat was moored. I loved being able to sit on the front of the boat at night and look up at the stars, feeling the gentle sway of the vessel, dreaming about what I would see among the reefs the following day.

Fabulous fresh meat on a makeshift barbecue

Every morning, a fisherman would use our dock to sell his freshly caught tuna to the locals. I bought a pound of fully filleted tuna for the equivalent of £1.77! I ate like a backpacking queen for two nights in a row.

Our friendly local fisherman at the dock

The best part of my day was talking to my dive master, Negro, after a morning of exploring Utila’s plentiful reefs. He would excitedly sit beside me with a marine book, specific to the area, and point out all the sea life we’d encountered. His oozing passion inspired me to compose a list (see next blog post for said list, and my own, ‘National Geographic’ worthy, photography) so that I never forget the names of each fish, shrimp or eel that we were lucky enough to meet.

Dive Master, Negro, blowing bubbles

I will forever sing the praises for Paradise Divers and will recommend them to everyone. Yes, the equipment is mis-matched and a bit tired but it is in full working order, and it just made me more aware of completing checks to make sure I would be diving safely. Using top notch equipment all the time doesn’t make the best diver out of you. If you’re serious about the sport, and want to explore a career option, you need to be able to recognise signs of equipment failure, learn about servicing and know how to respond in case of an emergency.

Fellow diver, Logan, with instructor, Juli. Logan passed his Open Water Certification that day

Admittedly, when I was researching Utila’s abundance of dive schools, I was almost put off by a terrible review on trip advisor. I read it a couple of times and decided that the author was probably over-reacting; it was titled, ‘Almost Died’, which, under the expertise of the staff, I know would never have happened. So I took a chance and booked my ten fun dives with them. The day before I got to Utila, I met a couple from England that had steered clear of Paradise due to the same review.

Clara from Paradise, showing me the beautiful reefs that Utila has to offer

Please think carefully when writing your opinions online as they can be really damaging for a company, especially those smaller struggling business. If you have a genuine concern about a service, try to speak to the manager/owners directly, before tarnishing their reputation on the internet. We don’t want to live in a world of Monopoly do we? We want to live in a world of choice, fairness, and sustainable tourism.


This post was written in El Tostador, a café in the centre of San José, Costa Rica. Their double espressos are like liquid gold. I had a breakfast of huevos revueltos con tostadas y guanabana batidos en agua (scrambled eggs with toasts and a soursop smoothie with water).

So what did I see below Utila’s ocean surface?

I wasn’t able to get a lasting image of everything I saw, so I’ll tag a link to the World Wide Web where there is no personal photography. 

The content description of each photo can be found directly below it.

Parrot Fish – difficult to get a photo of these fish because as soon as they see you, they bolt.

Mangrove Upsidedown Jellyfish – you can lift this guy up and watch the many tentacles wriggle around as it makes its way back to the seabed.

Flamingo Tounge (mollusc) – I have some very blurred photos of these, but they’re not WordPress worthy in my opinion.

Pederson Cleaner Shrimp – it took me about eight dive attempts to get a decent photo of these shrimps, they’re so tiny that the camera never seemed to be able to focus on them.

Scarlet-Striped Cleaner Shrimp – these are the kinds of shrimp you might find on sale in your local pet store.

Giant Hermit Crab – this crustacean has a pretty impressive house on its back.

Channel Clinging Crab – this guy would look really great on a plate with some home cooked sweet potato wedges. What? Who said that?

Caribbean Spiny Lobster – I do have a picture of this particular lobster but he’s hiding, so you can only see his, ‘whiskers’, as I like to call them.

Spotted Spiny Lobster – we saw a couple of these during our night dive when they’re most active. The light from the torches made it seem like they were emitting neon blue lights from the surface of their shells. Our own underwater silent disco.

Squirrelfish – these are everywhere among Uvita’s reefs, but for some reason, I don’t have a photograph.

Lionfish – these fish are beautiful, and deadly. I remember seeing my first one in Thailand. We were warned not to go near it because of the poison in its spines. We left it be. However, in Honduras, lionfish are not a welcome species. They started appearing and rapidly breeding, creating an imbalance in the marine life. They prey on a plethora the smaller fish that reside on the reef. Divers in Utila have permission to kill any lionfish that they see. I had a delightful lionfish ceviche while I was on the island.

Spotted Drum – this little critter would not sit still for its photo. They sort of wiggle  rather than swim, their long fins reminded me of a flag in the wind.

Frog fish – I did not have my GoPro with me during this dive because the casing kept flooding. The whole dive team were excited about spotting a frog fish, because they are virtually impossible to see. They are often completely camouflaged with their surroundings. They’re quite the ugly looking specimen, too.

Spotted Scorpionfish – please ignore the quality of this image. I have now purchased red filters for my GoPro so I can take brighter and more colourful snaps.

Spiny Flounder – can you spot it?! I hope so, it’s one of my better, non-blurry, images.

Shortfin Pipefish – again, excuse the blur. And I promise you this is not a stick.

Longsnout Seahorse – we were fortunate enough to see three of these beautiful creatures. An orange one, a yellow one and a black one, two of which were pregnant. 

Porcupinefish – I always look at these fish and think they just look super angry.

Sharpnose Puffer – do not eat me! I’m highly poisonous.

Smooth Trunkfish – these were also quite difficult to catch on camera, but they’re pretty much everywhere around Utila so I had lots of opportunities. This was my best snap out of about thirty.

Black Grouper – these fish look big and angry, but they’re harmless. Well the one we encountered was.

Trumpetfish – we saw lots of these, and the sign language underwater is literally the motion of playing a trumpet. Simple is effective.

Barracuda – I saw some small barracuda in Thailand, but the one we found in Utila was much bigger.

Brown Garden Eels – look closely to the rear of the image and you’ll spot them. These eels are hilarious. Their bodies are buried below the sand and they poke their heads out above the bed. It’s quite difficult to take a photo of them because as soon as you approach, they disappear; like they’re being sucked into the earth. They made me laugh out loud. Is this even possible underwater? I’ve added a link to this description, too, as someone has managed to sneak a lot closer than I.

Green Moray – these are amazing to watch. They snake their bodies in and around the coral, so you can normally only see their heads. I managed to find one that was completely exposed; a real treat.

Spotted Eagle Ray – this was one of our best dives. We didn’t just see one Eagle Ray, we found three, swimming together, which is apparently quite unusual. Such a lucky day.

Southern Stingray – unfortunately I don’t have a photo of this beautiful creature, and I am gutted, because rays are my favourite ocean dweller. Nevermind, next time.

Hawksbill Turtle – fortunately, I had my GoPro with me during this dive. I’ve seen so many photos of sea turtles on other people’s social media and have always been jealous. So I’ve finally seen one in the wild, with my own eyes.

Gray Angelfish – I really liked taking pictures of the Angelfish. This one quietly swam around and ignored me rather than bolting as soon as it sensed my presence.

Sergeant Major – these fish would often shoal around the boat, so I took a quick snap before surfacing. 

Chain Moray Eel – I got quite close to this eel, but when we surfaced I was told that it could have snapped the camera straight out of my hand. Oops!

Nurse Shark – I saw this amazing creature on my birthday. It was the best dive and the best present ever. Again, forgetting about all aspects of personal safety, I tried to get as close as possible for the best photo, and it paid off, kind of. I’ll add a link to this one so you can see it in its full glory.

Bearded Toadfish – this guy was so camouflaged that the camera wouldn’t focus on him, good old modern technology was more interested in the background coral.

Caribbean Reef Squid – we spotted this shoal of Squid just as we were about to surface, so we hung around to watch them swim around the bottom of the boat. As we hovered, the squid, in perfect unison, all turned to look at us. It was very bizarre and eerie. Nobody knew how to react. Luckily, they just swam on their way.

Banded Coral Shrimp – it is easier to see these during a night dive because the light from the torches makes their eyes light up in the dark. A bit like a cat in headlights.


This blog post was written among the gentle buzz of the relaxing Tucan Hotel atmosphere in Uvita, Costa Rica.