The Rhythm of Pura Vida

Finding more than just surf in one of the most biodiverse places on Earth

Words and photos by Morgan Maassen

There is no one on this planet who isn’t familiar with Costa Rica, but there are few who have squeezed it for all of the beauty and experience it can offer. Its waves are more diverse, its jungle denser, its wildlife population more vibrant, and its expanses of land and sea so much more untouched. 

I’ve entered this country many times searching for one thing, then left dazed and content by something else entirely. The Caribbean side has turquoise water that glimmers psychedelically, waves of immense power that buffet the coastline, and forests dotted with sloths and jaguars. The Pacific side has bustling bohemian towns, gentle farmland, and sleepy surf villages. Connecting the coasts are highlands filled with mysterious mammals and weather patterns, cold fog that clings to a shimmering jungle. 

This visit was different from the others. I had the aspiration of surfing, as a late-season swell had solidified itself on the charts, but I was going to the Osa peninsula, a small corner of the country christened as the most biodiverse region in the world. By the time I arrived, surfing was almost an afterthought as my mind raced with all the animals I wanted to track down and document, starting with watching humpback whales rolling around in the channel as our small puddle jumper landed in Puerto Jiménez.

Across the week I spent here, the surf was brilliant. Perfect pointbreaks, reef breaks, and beaches lit up with no wind, head-high waves, and swimming-pool temperature water. The locals were seemingly elated to have company, as the beginning of the rainy season usually sees visitors drop to nearly zero. I stayed with local professional surfer Brisa Hennessy at her retreat Encanta La Vida, and every morning was spent tracking ocelot cat prints through the trees, watching leafcutter ants stream through the foliage, and checking the surf down muddy trails. We ate like kings, dousing anything edible in the national hot sauce, Lizano. Evenings were spent under torrential rain storms. Howler monkeys swung through the canopy screaming at any other species of ape that stood in their way, toucans danced in the treetops every which way I looked, and sloths lazed about within arm’s reach as I brushed my teeth.