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eated on a patch of sand and jagged rocks along a nearly deserted beach, just a step away from a dense jungle, I am moved by the thunderous waves and the calls of howler monkeys leaping effortlessly from tree to tree. My three-year-old twin girls listen intently to the strange sounds as they play with a pair of heavy coconuts they found washed up on shore. The forest ridge, adorned with bromeliads, hardwoods, vines, and coconut trees, filters the morning light, its fingers reaching down to touch the beach below. The scene feels untamed and initially a little uncomfortable—hiding a spot to swim amid the heavy surf and rugged rocks, and mosquitoes buzz relentlessly around us. Yet, as I listen to the guttural calls of the monkeys, an unexpected connection to the land begins to form.
The ocean is the heartbeat of the Nicoya Peninsula
The ocean is the heartbeat of the Nicoya Peninsula, a region on Costa Rica’s southwestern Pacific coast, divided into the provinces of Guanacaste in the north and Puntarenas in the south. Its proximity to the Equator ensures year-round consistent swells from the Pacific, brought in from both the Northern and Southern Hemispheres, paired with sandy-bottom beaches and warm waters—a perfect surf spot.
Each morning, I stroll along the sands of Santa Teresa, a laid-back beach town near the southern tip of Nicoya on the western edge of Puntarenas province, and the starting point of our trip. At first, I have mixed feelings about the place. Santa Teresa is a small town packed with surfboard shops, yoga retreats, and trendy restaurants serving organic food, all set amidst a swirling cloud of dust. A few Hollywood stars own homes in the area, which includes the neighboring town of Mal Pais, as well as Playa Carmen and Playa Hermosa, all connected by a dirt road set back from the ocean. Tanned, yoga-toned surfers carrying their surfboards buzz around on mopeds and ATVs, nearly all wearing bandanas over their faces. The roads are either dusty or muddy, given the occasional biblical rainstorm.
Nestled between Santa Teresa’s main street and its sun-kissed Pacific coastline is Nantipa, the oceanfront retreat where we stay. I enjoy walking through its lush jungle paths with my kids, eventually spilling out onto its sands, at the sight of exotic wildlife. Nantipa feels real – a place where we interact with the ticos, or Costa Ricans, and taste local barbecued fish rather than burgers and fries. We listen to the insects and small animals that inhabit this rich environment. My kids spend hours searching for shells on the pristine beach, immersing themselves in the natural world.
I’m initially indifferent to Santa Teresa’s changing tides and shifting scenery, but slowly I come to appreciate the lush jungle teeming with life as I reach its wild beaches. I tailor each day to the ocean’s tides and rhythm, choosing to surf in Playa Hermosa, or to swim in the shallow rock pools, or in the calmer waters of Playa Suecos. I horseback ride just north of town, near the fishing village of Manzanillo. I’m accompanied by Lester, a sabanero from Ario, a family-owned, coastal working ranch nestled in the heart of the Nicoya Peninsula. I am assigned to Pinta, one of their fastest horses. “Pinta is Gisele Bundchen’s favourite horse here (she has a property in the region)”, says Lester, “I’m assigning the same horse to you, her countrymate,” he explains. We ride through mountains in primary forest, fertile river valleys, rolling hills, mangrove forests, and move along a desolate beach, where the only sounds are our hooves pounding the sand and the gentle lap of the Pacific. A few days later, I return to Ario with my family, where my children join local kids for a day at Cirena (Ario’s NGO). Together, they play on sand while listening to stories about turtle conservation — experiences that transcend travel, leaving a mark on their hearts and memories.
Like many of my favourite destinations, Santa Teresa isn’t easily accessible. Historically, the area near Mal Pais and Santa Teresa was just a large cattle ranch until after World War II. Surfers began arriving in the 1970s and ’80s, and electricity and telephone service reached parts of the area in the mid-1990s. Over the past decade, growth has accelerated. To get here, we fly into San José, Costa Rica’s capital, then endure a long, four-hour journey, including a one-hour ferry ride. While travelers arriving from San José can opt for a short flight to Tambor—just a half-hour drive from Santa Teresa—the unpaved road into town remains unavoidable.
Paradise has never been an easy place to get to. Costa Rica’s roads can become quite rugged, especially during the rainy season (May through November). On our way to Nosara, we take Route 160, which follows the Pacific coast. It’s the most direct route from Santa Teresa but also the most challenging, involving river crossings and requiring a sturdy 4×4 vehicle. Crossing these rivers in our car is an adventure, made possible with the help of a local guide we found online who expertly navigates us through. For a smoother, though longer, journey, travelers can opt for the fully paved Route 21, which goes around the Nicoya Peninsula.
We stay in Nosara’s Playa Guiones, a pristine four-mile stretch of protected beach within the Ostional Turtle Refuge, where no buildings are permitted within 200 meters of the shoreline. Renowned as one of the most consistent surf breaks in the world, with 330 days a year suitable for riding waves. The town exudes a laid-back, vibrant atmosphere, with a quieter, more polished vibe than Santa Teresa. I’ve never felt more comfortable than at one of Sendero’s villas, located in the heart of Playa Guiones, just a five-minute, sandy walk down a jungle path to the sound of crashing waves. The nearby town of Guiones boasts organic bakeries, surf shops, and bohemian clothing boutiques, all within a ten-minute walk. Sendero blends Nosara’s relaxed spirit with cosmopolitan sophistication—unpretentious and inviting, with plush linen cushions scattered throughout and a chic palette of earthy tones. Yet, the authentic Costa Rican vibe prevails—pura vida—a rhythm of life that’s easy-going, sociable, and deeply connected to nature.
That essence is what every trip to this country should embody. From Nosara, we head northeast toward the volcanoes and lush forests, embracing the country’s natural wonders. Road-tripping through Costa Rica with our children holds a spiritual significance for me; I strictly prohibit screen time during our journey. I want my kids to immerse themselves in their surroundings, to ignite their sense of adventure, and engage with the world around them. We spend the following days at Hacienda Montezuma, an exquisite traditional Costa Rican ranch nestled in Guanacaste’s northern province. Spanning 3,700 acres across the continental divide, it’s a sanctuary for diverse birdlife—from trogons and oropendolas to six species of toucans—drawing both Caribbean and Pacific influences. Here, we live the rhythms and routines of farm life: horse riding with the sabaneros, hiking through forests, and soaking in the tranquility. Mornings feel like a sacred communion with nature—fresh sunshine, the chorus of birds. The hacienda, covering 1,000 hectares of protected primary and secondary forests between the Miravalles and Tenorio volcanoes, acts as a vital biological corridor for native flora and fauna.
Though it’s hard to leave the serenity of the Hacienda, we venture onward to the area near the extraordinary 200-foot La Fortuna waterfall. The scenery shifts dramatically—volcanoes silhouette the horizon, while sparkling rivers and lush jungles weave a vibrant tapestry of life. Yet, so does the sense of development; Arenal Volcano National Park, just a short drive from San Jose’s airport, buzzes with tourism, less the intimate escape I crave. Reflecting on my travels through Costa Rica’s more secluded corners, I feel fortunate to have glimpsed the true essence of the land, where pristine nature still holds sway, and it feels less untouched by mass tourism.
Practical Information
| Destination | Nicoya Peninsula, Costa Rica |
|---|---|
| Best time to visit | December to April (dry season) for reliable sunshine and passable roads. May to November is the green season — the landscape turns lush and crowds thin, but roads become very challenging. Hacienda Montezuma is open December through August only. |
| Getting there | Fly into San José (SJO) or Liberia (LIR). From Liberia, Santa Teresa is approx. 3 hrs by road — a 4x4 is strongly recommended. Nosara is approx. 2.5 hrs from Liberia. Small domestic flights also connect San José to Nosara airport (NOB). Hacienda Montezuma is 1.5 hrs from Liberia. |
| Where to stay | Nantipa in Santa Teresa — a luxury beachfront boutique hotel with private bungalows and villas set directly on the beach. Sendero Hotel & Villas in Nosara — tucked into a nature preserve a short jungle path from Playa Guiones, one of the world's most consistent surf breaks. Hacienda Montezuma in Guanacaste — a private 1,500-hectare working cattle ranch and nature reserve between two volcanoes, hosted by the remarkable Floriana Acosta. Taken exclusively by one group at a time. |
| Currency | Costa Rican Colón (CRC). US dollars widely accepted. |
| Language | Spanish |
| Visa | Visa-free for EU, UK, US passport holders (up to 90 days) |
| Notes | The Nicoya Peninsula is one of only five Blue Zones in the world — regions where people live measurably longer. A 4x4 is essential for exploring. Route 160 along the coast involves river crossings — hire a local guide if attempting it in wet season. |
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