Paso Ancho & Surroundings
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I don’t know why I wanted to go into the direction of Cartago. Maybe because the name reminded me of my Latin and KCV (Klassieke Culturele Vorming; Classical Cultural Formation) classes of high school, bringing back feelings of nostalgia. Obviously in these classes I learned about the ancient history of the Spanish Cartago, but as the Spaniards were so friendly to conquer South- and Central-American land, suppress, exploit and murder the local population and put their own flag down instead, there is now also a Costa Rican Cartago.
Nevertheless, this Cartago has an interesting history of its own: Established in 1536, Cartago grew out to be the capital (after a military conflict in 1835 it switched to San Jose). In 1822 an earthquake destroyed the city completely, which happened again in 1841 and 1910. In 1723, Volcán Irazú erupted, which also happened again in 1963. Why do people still live here, you ask? Ashes make fertile land, my friend. You may as well ask: Why do the Dutch live under sea level, behind some dikes that flooded anyway in the past... because we are human and live under the illusion that we can manage nature. And what did we find here? Beautiful landscapes, national parks, green valleys and a creepy sanatorium, to sum it up. Indeed, a two-day nature break from smoggy San Jose easily turned into a five-day stay.
Nevertheless, this Cartago has an interesting history of its own: Established in 1536, Cartago grew out to be the capital (after a military conflict in 1835 it switched to San Jose). In 1822 an earthquake destroyed the city completely, which happened again in 1841 and 1910. In 1723, Volcán Irazú erupted, which also happened again in 1963. Why do people still live here, you ask? Ashes make fertile land, my friend. You may as well ask: Why do the Dutch live under sea level, behind some dikes that flooded anyway in the past... because we are human and live under the illusion that we can manage nature. And what did we find here? Beautiful landscapes, national parks, green valleys and a creepy sanatorium, to sum it up. Indeed, a two-day nature break from smoggy San Jose easily turned into a five-day stay.
I didn’t sleep in Cartago downtown, but in the quiet village of Paso Ancho right next to it, on the sofa of Couchsurfer Hector. This fully tattooed and well-travelled funky-haired punker realised his ambition to transform his house into a free hostel including house rules, information posters and flags decorating the walls. He even came up with a name: “The Jaguar House”.
I was glad I took along enough clothing, as the ice cold breeze of the highlands kept me awake all night. I kept on adding layers until I finally fell asleep with tights, long pants, a sweater, a jacket and my face under the blanket to warm myself with my own breath. Welcome to Costa Rica, country of the contradicting micro-climates.
As I didn’t really know what one can do in Paso Ancho I just decided to walk up the road and see what happens.
As I didn’t really know what one can do in Paso Ancho I just decided to walk up the road and see what happens.
Amidst the stunning environment I kept on seeing signs of some ‘National Monument’ in Guayabo at about a 35km distance. I had no idea what this monument could be, but I figured that if it’s that well indicated it must be worth going. Walking 70km in a day might be a bit too ambitious though, so I decided to put my thumb up and see if hitchhiking is a thing here. It is. Although the people don’t stop as easily as in Panamá, I managed to get five rides that day: with a young couple to Pacaya in the back of a pick-up truck, then to Pastora in the backseat of the car of two old toothless chaps, to 3km away from the monument with a bright-eyed local man and finally the last kilometres chucked into an overloaded car with a big Tico family.
The monument appeared to be the ruins of an ancient aqueduct and they were just about to close. No problemo, it was the completed mission that counted. I saw everything of the breathtaking environment in between Paso Ancho and Guayabo, created my own adventure and had some 1-on-1 interaction with the locals, what to me seems more interesting than sitting in a tourist bus waiting to be dropped off at the next so-called highlight. I caught the last ride back to Cartago in the car of an intelligent guy that provided all the background information about the region, politics and daily life of his country: Even though the prices are about three times as high as in Europe and the wages four times as low, the Costa Ricans are one of the happiest people on Earth... El misterio de sobrevivir.
I ended the day with visiting the church of Cartago, where surprisingly enough the people tortured themselves by walking meters and meters on their knees, even if they were old, wrecked or handicapped. Friendly god that requires that from his followers. Instead of joining I decided to put my camera in their face to film this uncomfortable worshipping... What? Don’t look at me like that, if they were ashamed of it they wouldn’t do it right?
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The next day I walked into the other direction and took two buses to Orosí, some idyllic lush valley with a refreshing river surging through it. As by now I was aware of the unpredictable weather I packed both sunscreen and a rain poncho and indeed had to shuffle between these two every half hour. Other travellers had recommended me to visit the Mirador and as this was another steep climb up the mountain I tested my hitchhiking luck again until a friendly man dropped me off at the entrance.
This place is a classical example of ‘tourism done well’: well-maintained and guarded by uniformed men so no graffiti-gangsters or plastic-polluters can mark the place with our wonderful sign of humanity... AND, as nature is not a private good: 100% free. This unique spot provides a gorgeous look-out over the entire valley, in which cars moved around like little boys-toys and birds of species I had never seen before floated passed, surfing on the wind. Although I was aware that no other place could beat this location, I hitchhiked down again with a fast-driving macho, his phone glued to his ear. Apparently I was too late to hike any of Orosí’s free trails and I learned that I’d better steer clear of these paths anyway. Gringo’s like me would undoubtedly fall victim to gente mala, ‘bad people’... not from Orosí of course, like everywhere it’s always the outsiders who cause all the problems (, take all the jobs, don’t let go of their traditions, don’t ditch their religion, speak with weird accents and strangely enough refuse to go back to their economically disastrous or war-infiltrated country... but whatever we gossip, we don’t mean it in a discriminating way, we’re the civilized, ‘good people’ after all). Nevertheless, I made an attempt to reach some waterfall, until a one-toothed man with sagging pants claimed to be the owner of the forest and held me hostage with his stories until darkness made its entrance. So I took my last hitchhike back in the luxurious car of a Spanish damsel and called it a day.
The day after I immediately called it a day as well, as even from a holiday you need a holiday sometimes in order to relax, reflect and gain strengths again to hike non-stop another day. I made up my mind to visit the Tapantí National Park that day, until Hector convinced us Prusia (a section of the Volcán Irazú National Park) is the true hidden gem. Hidden indeed, as no Google, Lonely Planet or travel blog ever mentioned its existence, but also a gem in the true sense of the word.
First I hitchhiked with a Pakistani-looking man to the remains of a previous sanatorium, one of those places that are truly scary when deserted. Built in 1915 by Dr. Duran, it first operated as a hospital for tuberculosis patients, as well as an asylum for the mentally ill. After 1963 it stood empty, since tuberculosis was no longer an issue and the mentally ill could be treated in bigger, more humane hospitals. For awhile, the place operated as an orphanage, and then later it was turned into a prison. The Duran Sanatorium shut down permanently in 1973 when it suffered serious structural damage from a volcano eruption.
Some residents never left though: Commonly seen apparitions include a nun, who is said to have been a caretaker during the TBC-era; a woman with white hair and a blue dress; and a little girl, said to be the daughter of Dr. Duran himself. She contracted tuberculosis while living at the Sanatorium and died...
Some residents never left though: Commonly seen apparitions include a nun, who is said to have been a caretaker during the TBC-era; a woman with white hair and a blue dress; and a little girl, said to be the daughter of Dr. Duran himself. She contracted tuberculosis while living at the Sanatorium and died...
I stared at the rusty playground at the entrance and imagined this is where the little death girls in long white dresses play at night.
My brain played an essential role in the experience, as I even felt the temperature drop as soon as we entered the building, shivering the most passing the crematorium where the burning bodies used to heat up the rooms of the patients. Would you spend the night here?
My brain played an essential role in the experience, as I even felt the temperature drop as soon as we entered the building, shivering the most passing the crematorium where the burning bodies used to heat up the rooms of the patients. Would you spend the night here?
Catching another ride with a father and son I went deeper into the forest to arrive at the Prusia entrance where I paid the $2 entrance fee (although later I found out I could have entered for free if I would have taken a left at the last intersection just before the entrance... so you know that now). After putting on all my clothes I defied rain, storms and Scandinavian temperatures in order to witness the true splendour of Costa Rican nature once again. With its eucalyptus and pine trees and cold-weather-vegetation I realized how severely a country can contradict itself and understood why tourists keep on coming, even though the prices are outrageous here.
Cold woods, mountains and valleys, Caribbean beach destinations, surfing paradises, big metropolises, tropical rain- and cloud forests, the world’s highest density of national parks... Costa Rica has it all.
Cold woods, mountains and valleys, Caribbean beach destinations, surfing paradises, big metropolises, tropical rain- and cloud forests, the world’s highest density of national parks... Costa Rica has it all.
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