Costa Rican Road Trip Begins: From Alajuela to Punta Uva

It feels like only yesterday we were backpacking through Central America without a care in the world and zero responsibilities. Fast forward eight months, and Dave and I are back living in the UK with our full-time jobs firmly reinstated… 😭

We can’t complain too much, though. We’re well aware of how fortunate we are to work for organisations that happily let us take off for over a year, only to welcome us back into the fold (I even landed a promotion! 😅) upon our return. Yes, we’re exceptionally lucky, I know. But when your heart dreams of full-time travel and the cold reality is a standard five weeks of annual leave a year, every single day counts.

We had originally earmarked our Easter holiday for a true bucket-list expedition: Raja Ampat and the Arfak Mountains in Indonesia. Unfortunately, geopolitical turmoil threw a massive spanner in the works with airspace closures around the Middle East. Just four days before our scheduled departure, our flights were abruptly cancelled. Cue a frantic online scramble to find flights that didn’t transit through the Middle East, were still somewhere wild and biodiverse, and wouldn’t cost an absolute fortune at the eleventh hour.

Costa Rica popped up, and we jumped at the chance to return. Our previous journey through the country was unforgettable – and that was done on a strict backpacker shoestring! We were optimistic that with a slightly healthier budget, this trip would be even better.

Since we’re back earning a wage, we opted to rent a car this time around. Having our own wheels offered ultimate flexibility and eliminated the downtime of deciphering bus schedules or waiting on connections (not that public transit was bad last time—buses in Costa Rica are actually cheap, reliable, and relatively stress-free). But with time being our most precious commodity on this trip, having a car allowed us to squeeze every drop out of the itinerary.

At 5am, UK time on Wednesday morning, the alarm went off; by 6pm Costa Rican time, we had touched down in San José. We cleared the airport and met our rental representative, who promptly treated us to a full, one-hour masterclass on what to do in the event of ten bizarre worst-case scenarios that would almost certainly never happen. Exhausted from the long haul, this went down like a lead balloon. It culminated in Dave pacing around the car park with rising anxiety – thinking, “Why is she talking as if catastrophe is guaranteed?!” — while I delivered about twenty exaggerated, consecutive yawns, hoping she’d wrap it up.

Eventually, we got on the road. Despite picking an agency boasting 134 five-star reviews, our set of wheels was fairly battered and bruised. Still, she got us through the journey safely (spoiler alert!), so who are we to judge? Her name was Sahara, apparently…

First stop on our Costa Rican Road Trip: Bed! 🛏🌙

The following morning, jet lag had us wide awake to catch first light and the dawn chorus. We strolled into the Alajuela main square to track down an ATM (Costa Rican Colones are gorgeous, by the way) and grabbed a no-fuss breakfast from a local corner shop. The wildlife show started immediately: Great-tailed Grackles strutting everywhere, flocks of parrots and parakeets chattering in the canopy of the plaza, and bold little variegated squirrels being fed by locals.

Feeling somewhat more human, we hit the tarmac.

I love piecing together ambitious, off-the-beaten-path routes—invariably centered around wildlife. While this trip was no exception, pulling together the entire logistics plan and bookings in under four days was properly hectic, and I’m sure a few hidden gems slipped through the net. That said, having visited before, we knew the lay of the land and focused primarily on the corners we hadn’t managed to reach the first time around.

On our previous trip, we crossed overland from Nicaragua via San Juan del Sur. Our gateway was Liberia in the north, where we explored Rincón de la Vieja National Park and hiked to the La Leona waterfall. From there, we pushed on to Bijagua and Tenorio National Park to see the vibrant waters of the Río Celeste, before catching a bus down to La Fortuna and Arenal EcoPark. We found Arenal a bit overly commercialised, but coming from Bijagua, it served as a practical stepping stone up into Santa Elena and the high cloud forests—a place we fell completely in love with. Up there, we explored the Monteverde Cloud Forest, Curi-Cancha Reserve, and walked the Treetopia hanging bridges. Next came a quick transit night in San José before another long bus hauled us down to San Gerardo de Dota, which treated us to a memorable close encounter with a Resplendent Quetzal. Finally, we tackled a marathon bus journey south to Sierpe to board the boat into Drake Bay on the edge of Corcovado National Park. Corcovado was hands-down our highlight; we extended our time there to take in Sirena Station, Caño Island, and the Punta Río Claro Wildlife Refuge. That whole route took us just under a month and set us back a remarkably modest £1,100 each.

Our route plan this time was:

• 1 night by the airport (Alajuela)
• 1 Night in Guarumo Lodge/La Hoja Garden (a birding hotspot near Guapiles)
• 5 Nights in Punta Uva on the Caribbean Coast (the “end of the road” CR)
• 2 Nights in Tayutic, a birding hotspot in land from the Caribbean side
• 1 Night back at Savegre, in San Gerardo de Dota (more Quetzal hunting!)
• 3 Nights in San Gerardo de Rivas, another “hidden” valley good for birding
• 4 Nights in Uvita (Bahia Region)
• 1 Night back near the airport before our 7am flight

Our first destination was Guápiles, though getting there proved to be a test of patience. Despite rolling out by 8am, we were swallowed by crawling traffic that plagued the entire corridor thanks to ongoing roadworks and lane closures. We finally pulled up around midday, but the wildlife greeted us before we’d even unpacked. High in the canopy, a two-toed sloth and her baby were draped over a branch, and several Yellow-throated Toucans were calling from the surrounding trees.

We checked in a little early to wander the property. The lodge borders a busy main road, but despite the persistent rumble of passing HGVs, the sheer density of birdlife was remarkable. That’s especially noteworthy given that March is peak nesting season—many species are sitting on eggs or quietly foraging deep in the foliage for insects rather than visiting garden feeding stations.

Even so, the sightings came thick and fast: a solitary male White-collared Manakin (an absolute treat!), Red-legged Honeycreepers, Shining Honeycreepers, a Russet-naped Wood-Rail, Lesson’s Motmot, Golden-hooded, Blue-grey, Scarlet-rumped, and Palm Tanagers, Montezuma Oropendolas, Black-cheeked and Hoffmann’s Woodpeckers, alongside a dizzying parade of hummingbirds including White-necked Jacobins, Bronze-tailed Plumeleteers, and Rufous-tailed Hummingbirds. It was an exhilarating start to the trip.

Guarumo Lodge has earned serious acclaim on Instagram as a premier birding spot, though the rooms themselves are rustic and modest (if perfectly comfortable). Our room had two beds, and while the on-site café shut its doors by 4pm, that suited us down to the ground—jetlag knocked us out cold by 6pm anyway!

An early night guaranteed another dawn chorus start, which brought even more activity. Our resident male Manakin practically posed for portraits, perched neatly on one leg in open view, finally giving me the chance to put my new Celestron Hummingbird spotting scope through its paces!

After a hearty breakfast, we pointed the car east toward Punta Uva. We had skipped this corner of Costa Rica on our last visit and were keen to make up for lost time. Tucked along the southern Caribbean coastline, this region is wrapped in protected reserves. Punta Uva sits nestled between Cahuita National Park and the Gandoca-Manzanillo Wildlife Refuge, where the beaches feel untamed, fringed by dense rainforest, and churned by powerful surf. Cahuita is reputed to hold the finest inshore coral reef in the country, and after a storm had ripped through the coast the previous evening, we had our fingers crossed that the swell would drop and give the underwater visibility time to recover.

Our base here was a noticeable step up from our old shoestring backpacking digs. We booked a deluxe studio at Casa Viva, completely enveloped by lush botanical grounds with a private pathway straight onto the sand. We were delighted to be settled here for five nights.

Every morning began to a soundtrack of deep Howler Monkey roars, calling Keel-billed and Yellow-throated Toucans, Trogons, Antbirds, Antwrens, and Bright-rumped Attilas. Long-billed and Stripe-throated Hermits zipped through the flowers, Central American Agoutis rustled past our patio at breakfast, and Dave is convinced he caught a glimpse of a Paca—their larger, nocturnal cousin. The undisputed stars, however, were the Great Green Macaws. I knew this was their territory, but given their critically endangered status, I braced myself for rare, fleeting glimpses. Instead, pairs flew overhead daily, their raucous calls echoing as they feasted on beach almond trees right above us. They are massive, striking birds, though a real challenge to photograph against the high canopy backlight!

With several days at our disposal, we dedicated our first afternoon to exploring on foot straight from the studio. A sandy trail ducked into coastal forest parallel to the beach, making for an easy, shaded wander. Being a Saturday, the shoreline was buzzing with local families enjoying their weekend, which brought a vibrant, laid-back energy to the bay. The open sea was still running rough from the storm, so we kept things sensible with a paddle in the shallows alongside a handful of locals braving the surf.

The following morning, we arrived at Cahuita National Park right at opening time. After an outdoor breakfast, we arranged for a local taxi to drop us off at the Puerto Vargas southern sector so we could hike the roughly 12km trail one-way back to our car in Cahuita town. It proved a brilliant tactical move—tackling that distance as an out-and-back trek under the blistering Caribbean humidity would have been punishing.

The trail began on an elevated boardwalk winding through coastal swamp forest. We took our time scanning the trunks and low vines, keeping a keen lookout for the iconic yellow Eyelash Palm-Pitviper, which is known to favor this habitat. We didn’t cross paths with one this time (perhaps for the best!). The swampy terrain did, however, prove to be prime mosquito territory, which kept our pace brisk as we swatted away the welcoming committee.

Along the way, we clocked troops of Howler Monkeys, charismatic White-faced Capuchins, Agoutis, White-nosed Coatis, Pale-billed Woodpeckers, Blue-chested Hummingbirds, Northern Plain Xenops, Black-crowned Antshrikes, and Ochre-bellied Flycatchers. To top it off, a Two-toed Sloth was curled up in a tree right beside our car in the car park, and hadn’t moved an inch by the time we finished hours later! Because we were covering a decent trek, I left the heavy scope behind and simply enjoyed the walk through the canopy.

After four or five kilometres, the boardwalk gave way to the shoreline, and we spent the remainder of the day tracking the coastal path around the point, drinking in the coastal panoramas as the sun finally broke through the clouds. Along the beach fringes, we added Crab-eating Raccoons and coastal birds like Magnificent Frigatebirds and Royal Terns to the tally.

By the time we reached the car, we had racked up well over 12km—thoroughly soaked in sweat, parched, and ready for a proper meal. We made a beeline for our new favourite spot, Pita & Hummus, for a massive plate of fresh hummus and warm pitas. Finding plant-based options in this part of Costa Rica was surprisingly straightforward; their falafel pita was substantial and easy on the wallet. Another standout was Sol Del Caribe down in Playa Cocles, which served creative, delicious vegan breakfasts. For trail snacks, the regional supermarket chain Super Negro (you’ll spot one in practically every settlement along this stretch) became our go-to for hearty vegan empanadas and fresh banana bread.

The following morning promised settled weather, so we lined up our snorkelling excursion out on Cahuita’s offshore reef. Cahuita was an easy 30-minute drive up from Punta Uva, making it a breeze to visit while letting us enjoy the quieter coastal vibe back at our base.

We met at the boat ramp before 8am. There were only two small skiffs heading out to the reef that morning, and although guests had booked through various agencies, we all ended up on the same boats—meaning going with Willie’s Tours, the most budget-friendly outfit, was a neat little win.

Underwater visibility hadn’t fully cleared after the recent rain and swell, but the structural health of the reef was evident. We spent our time floating alongside several large, docile Nurse Sharks, spotting schools of Four-eyed Butterflyfish, French Angelfish, Grunts, and a handful of Caribbean Spiny Lobsters tucked into the coral ledges.

We pulled up at the point of Punta Cahuita for a fresh fruit spread, fending off an opportunistic troop of White-faced Capuchins intent on hijacking the pineapple slices. With the morning run finished by midday, we dried off, picked up a fresh stash of Super Negro empanadas, and headed straight back to the Puerto Vargas boardwalk. Armed with my scope this time, the return trip delivered: we stumbled upon an active White-collared Manakin lek, with anywhere between ten and twenty males snapping and displaying through the mid-story. Tracking their lightning-fast hops between branches was an athletic challenge for photography, but watching the courtship spectacle unfold was fascinating.

After heading back to the studio for a well-earned shower and the customary jetlag afternoon nap, we returned to Sol Del Caribe for dinner. Right on cue, a mother sloth and her baby were inching across the overhead cables right above the open-air dining deck. It’s nearly impossible to escape the wildlife here. While continuous natural forest canopy would certainly be preferable to power lines, the care and protection local communities show these animals is heartening to see.

Following four consecutive days of lengthy hikes and time on the water, we declared a rest day, spending a leisurely morning birding within the studio grounds. Still, resting only lasts so long before restlessness sets in, so we eventually ambled down to Punta Uva Arrecife—a protected cove of powdery white sand and pale turquoise water. The sea had calmed down considerably, but the inshore bay didn’t offer much in the way of snorkelling, so we focused on the coastal birdlife instead. The patience paid off: I finally locked in a clean, unobstructed photograph of a Great Green Macaw! Crested Guans and trogons rounded out the morning, followed by yet another sloth navigating the power lines during our lunch run.

On our final morning in Punta Uva, we were up at dawn to soak in the coast one last time. The canopy was alive: Keel-billed and Yellow-throated Toucans called back and forth, while a mixed flock of Slaty-tailed and Gartered Trogons sang in the palms—until a Common Black Hawk swooped through and scattered the party.

I managed some crisp video of a foraging Agouti and finally nailed a clear shot of a Long-billed Hermit feeding in the undergrowth.

It was a rewarding send-off that perfectly rounded out our first week back in the country. The Caribbean coast delivered everything we had hoped for—a wild, unhurried landscape where primary jungle meets vibrant coral reefs, and where you’re never more than a glance away from sloths, macaws, and rich tropical wildlife. With the coastal leg complete, it was time to pack up the car and head inland toward the misty highlands.

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