Call of the wild: Costa Rica’s Osa Peninsula - A transformative journey from jungle to sea

The adventure in Costa Rica’s Osa Peninsula begins even before you arrive. From the San José international airport, you wander down the street to a modest domestic terminal. There, you board a tiny seven-seater plane, where the pilot and co-pilot — who also happen to be the loaders, unloaders, and flight attendants — laugh and flirt with each other as the plane cruises on autopilot over misty mountains and thick clouds. Who, you wonder, is flying the plane?

As you descend toward Puerto Jiménez, you spot the runway: a narrow strip of tarmac wedged between the village and, fittingly, but also unsettlingly enough, a cemetery.

Calling it an airport feels generous; it’s just a fence, a gate, and a small path leading straight into town. From there, a taxi picks you up, pausing at the only grocery store you’ll see for the next week, before you set off toward the jungle and the sea, leaving paved roads and supermarkets behind.

Pacific’s southern end

The Osa Peninsula sits at the southern end of Costa Rica’s Pacific coast, wrapped around the appropriately named Golfo Dulce — the Sweet Gulf. This sheltered body of water, fringed by tropical rainforest, feels like a secret kept by the land. Midway through the week, on a boat trip across its calm waters, we found a pod of dolphins that decided, to our delight, to dance and swim alongside us, leading the bow of the boat and performing a choreographed private show.

On one side of the Osa lies Corcovado National Park, a remote, fiercely protected stretch of rainforest that the National Geographic once called the most biologically intense place on earth. We stayed at the far end near Cabo Matapalo, where beaches spill out in every direction—from the gentle, glassy waters of Playa Dulce to the thundering surf at Playa Matapalo, home to one of the world’s most renowned surf breaks. Wherever you are in the Osa, the rainforest is your companion: crickets sing you to sleep at night, and you wake to the haunting roars of howler monkeys. You’d never guess from the eerie roars that howlers are the gentlest of monkeys; they sound like an alien invasion. They are just the beginning. The long-tailed spider monkeys are the largest species of monkey on the Osa, and you’ll see them swinging from tree to tree like trapeze artists.

The smaller, white-faced capuchins are fearless and can be aggressive. They may show up on your porch, so keep your food hidden. Whether you are chasing adventure or seeking a quiet retreat from the speed of everyday life, you’ll find it here, tucked between jungle and sea. 

Yoga at the Osa

Indeed, people come to the Osa for many reasons. I was there for a yoga retreat, and it’s hard to explain the joy of practising every morning while looking out over the Pacific. With each breath, you feel a connection to the timeless vastness of the universe. Sometimes, our practice was observed by curious spider monkeys swinging in the trees overhead and accompanied by the sounds of toucans, macaws, and a host of other birds.

My personal highlight, though, came off the mat. I faced a lifelong fear of heights on a jungle hike led by a young guide named Talon. At just 20 years old, Talon had grown up deep in the forests of Costa Rica, left briefly for high school in the United States, and returned home to help his father’s business, guiding terrified tourists like me through the wild. He hiked barefoot, pointing out frogs and birds as he led us along a river and through the jungle. At one point, he told us we had to walk up a waterfall, and as insane as it seems, we scrambled up to continue our trek to a giant tree that towered above the canopy. There, with Talon belaying us by hand, each of us climbed up the branches to a spot seven stories high, stuck our heads into a hollow to glimpse a nest of bats, then stood with arms outstretched in the treetops—before jumping into the air and floating gently back down. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience and maybe the only place on earth wild and alive enough to make me believe I could do it. Each person finds their own magic here. Some come to surf the waves, some to hike the rainforests, and others to write, read, or simply breathe differently for a while.

Tiny hotels and eco-resorts are scattered along the coast, tucked inside the forest, each accessible only by dirt roads—most of which demand a sturdy four-wheel-drive vehicle and a certain spirit of adventure. Wherever you stay, you’ll find yourself living side-by-side with the jungle. Walking along the shaded paths, you’ll want to watch where you step: you might spot a green-and-black poison dart frog hidden among the leaves or find a curious land crab taking up residence in your shoes. (Tip: always bring your shoes inside at night—and check them before putting them on!) 

Sounds of nature

Step outside at dawn, and you’ll wake to a chorus of birdsong: the sweet, fluty call of toucans, the raucous shriek of scarlet macaws, and dozens of others you’ll never quite manage to name (tip: download Cornell University’s Merlin app on your phone, and you’ll be able to identify birdcalls!). 

At first, the rainforest sounds — the ceaseless hum of crickets and the deep-throated calls of howler monkeys — might not seem peaceful. But after a single night, they will wrap around you like a warm, living blanket. Unlike city noise — the blare of sirens and the rush of traffic — the sounds of the Osa root you to the earth beneath your feet, and gently, almost without noticing, you begin to breathe with the rhythm of the forest.

After a week in the Osa, when you head back, even Puerto Jiménez — the sleepy village you first arrived in — will feel overwhelming. Cars rumble down the street. The supermarket hums with voices and footsteps. You’ll walk into the tiny building that serves as the airport, hand over your bag at the counter, and quietly wonder why you’re leaving at all.

As you stand by the cemetery, reading the worn gravestones of those who called this magical place home, you will feel the joy of an experience that transforms, combined with the sorrow in leaving a place behind where every sunrise is magic.