Joanna Biggar's Blog

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Sooner or later, the Osa experience had to end and we had to make the return trip to the airport, and had to have a final adventure which turned out to be Thanasis nearly getting knocked down when a big wave hit the boat broadside while he was trying to disembark. But that is another story.

For the last Osa afternoon, I opted for a walk on a quiet beach and a search for Scarlet Macaws while Doug went off on foot with his flyrod. I joined Laurie, Jim, and Thanasis and some other folks from the midwest for a last bumper-car boat ride across the water to the reportedly “Best beach, best beach in the Osa,” San Jocesito, according to Carlos. And as we dropped into one of the most idyllic palm-lined beaches I’ve ever seen, following a fringe of curving white sand, I needed no further convincing.  “Best beach,” said Carlos, “Mel Gibson beach.”

And so it is. It seems three years ago, Gibson bought a private tract of virgin forest and coastline, 20 acres for $4 million. But with caveats. In Costa Rica you can’t actually buy the beach. That, they say, belongs to the people. Private property can only begin 100 meters further than the highest tide. So local fishermen and mangy tourists and backpacker — anybody at all– can swim and camp and picnic on “Gibson’s” beach. Right in front of his house, a one-story, modest affair with a hammock in front and a window unit a.c. and a “Privado” sign tacked on a low wooden fence. It seems the Costa Rican gov’t. also discourages building McVillas these days, too.

We found no Scarlet Macaws that afternoon, but did see a pair of rare, flaming red Trogons, relatives of the mystical Quetzals. And after a final swim in that amazing, clear, bath-warm water, we all piled into the boat for the ride back and our last delicious open-air meal.

Before going up the path to the lodge, though, we did stop at one of the low-walled gardens to check for the rainbow boa. All 6 feet of him was happily coiled up, resting, and he appeared to be in a better mood than the last time we’d seen him. That would have been before lunch, when one of the staff arrived with a big white sack, and announced he’d caught something in the forest behind our rooms. We all went to look, and sure enough, there was the snake, who seemed to be getting agitated. An angry boa constrictor in a bag, “not so good,” the fellow proclaimed, whereupon he let it go in the front garden.