Costa Rica: Always an Adventure
Last time I left you soaked and grinning in the belly of a fishing boat named Inés, the Golfo Dulce still dripping off my life vest. When I finally published Into the Gulf, I was convinced it was the best story I'd told — and that anything I wrote after it would live in its shadow.
How do you follow up a rogue wave and a waterfall hidden from time?
For weeks, that question kept me from writing this piece.
I had it backwards.
The crossing wasn't the whole story. It was the high-stakes adventure in the middle of it — the moment the needle jumped. But the heart of the trip, the slow, steady thing the whole week was actually built on, wasn't out on the water. It was back on the farm and in town, in the days after.
The morning after the gulf, nobody was in a hurry. A day on the water with Neno, el capitán, will do that to a crew. So we spent the morning recovering the only way that made sense: yoga on the back patio of Paraíso de Miguel, watching storm clouds dump rain over the Golfo Dulce and across the farm.
Once the rain quit, we made a plan.
Stickers and Storm Clouds
First order of business: souvenirs.
We headed back into Pavones and stopped at Supermercado Río Claro and the little shop attached to it. I came out with two stickers worthy of adorning my journal — the same notebook these words came out of. An Imperial beer sticker adorned with the iconic eagle. And a Pavones sticker of a surfer riding a set of waves.
Back at the farm, we decided today was the day. The podcast.
We scouted a couple of spots before settling on the back patio, the jungle as our backdrop. Cameras set. Microphones on. Notes at the ready.
We hit record.
Why The Modern Xplorer?
We talked for almost two hours. Spencer (@spencer.is.a.story), Wynn (@wy_photo_video), and I were all on camera, talking through our creative paths and how we'd ended up on this expedition together. We covered our inspirations, aspirations, and what we think is next.
One question hit harder than the rest. Why?
Why were we here? Why build The Modern Xplorer?
In that moment, I finally understood why I'd started this in the first place.
I built The Modern Xplorer as a promise to the sick seven-year-old version of myself who dreamt of being an adventurer one day. A promise that you can make your dream come true.
I’ve been in that hospital bed, surrounded by those infernal beeping machines. And in those days in Costa Rica, I made my childhood wish come true.
People might look at you and ask, “Don’t you want a normal life?”
Hell no.
I had a normal life until the age of seven, when terminal cancer tried to pick a fight. It lost.
So I will always pursue a life of adventure. That’s the foundation The Modern Xplorer is built on, and it’s for anyone fighting cancer out there who thinks life is over.
It's not.
Life is complicated, uncertain, and scary sometimes. But life is also filled with sea caves and jungle waterfalls, unexpected friends like Neno and the Inés, and the best pineapple of my life at Danyasa’s table. Moments like these change the way you see the world.
And life is always an adventure.
Embrace it.
We only get one.
Nothing Is Open on Mondays
Sunday was a rest day. We hung out at the house and made pizza with Johan to celebrate Beth's birthday.
Monday was a mix of rest and adventure. Mostly rest.
We headed into Pavones looking for breakfast, only to discover that not much is open on Mondays. We settled for snacks from Supermercado Río Claro and drove down the beach to check the surf. The swell that had been building for days?
Blown out by the wind.
But there's nothing wrong with another chill day. We were on vacation too.
It was a good reminder to slow down. It's easy to think everything has to be full throttle — that if you slow down for a second, you'll lose momentum and lose everything. Slowing down and stepping back is what keeps everything in check.
That's what this whole trip was about. It was a chance to step back from regular work, the city, the apartment, and focus on what I love: travel and the creative side of life.
Back home, that space warps my sense of creativity. I start to wonder whether my creative pursuits are worth it. That's a devastating feeling.
Being in Costa Rica with Spencer and Wynn was the opposite. It was a refreshing wave of creativity and inspiration.
I wrote more in my journal in six days than I had in six months in Pittsburgh.
Spending that week with Spencer and Wynn was intimidating. They're both so refined and knowledgeable in their crafts. But it was just as inspiring to watch them maneuver and adapt those crafts in a new environment.
I'd stepped away from writing and from The Modern Xplorer last winter. I knew I would come home with a clear head and the motivation to chase it again.
I made myself a promise: find fellow creatives and keep that collaborative inspiration flowing.
And the creator expedition format?
So far, a resounding success.
Rudy's Table
Two or three nights that week, we ended up at La Choza de Gaby.
We shot pool on a locally crafted table. We tried chiliguaros: a shot of guaro, Costa Rica's sugarcane liquor, with tomato juice and chile. Spicy, as promised.
One night I ordered the chicken burrito.
Amazing.
Which brings me to Rudy. Our server, and an all-around legend. Rudy is awesome. Simple as that.
If you're ever in Pavones, go to Gaby's. Order the burrito. Rack up a game. And say hi to Rudy (@rudycarillorojas).
Stones the Size of My Head
On our last full day in Pavones, we had one final adventure. Michael took us down to hike up to a waterfall.
At Punta Banco, we cut across the beach, clambering over fallen palm trees while the waves crashed around us. We found our way onto a local Tico's property. He pointed us towards a path marked by stones the size of my head.
Guided by the stones, the sound of rushing water, and ropes to hold onto, we delved deeper into the thick jungle.
Then, between the tangled ropes and bejuco vines, the waterfall revealed itself. A series of cascading spouts splashed down in front of us, settled, and began their slow march down to
meet the beach.
No one swam this time. The pool still had a few thousand years of carving to go before it would be swimmable.
But that's the awesome force of water. All in due time.
Here There Be Crocodiles
Further down the beach, we hiked up a small river mouth, keeping a mental clock running. The tide was slowly rising, and none of us wanted to swim back down the river.
Here there be crocodiles.
What we found at the waterfall was spectacular. Spencer zipped his drone from the falls down to the river mouth. Michael, Wynn, and I sank into the dipping pool.
Then a fully grown black hawk landed on a branch above our heads.
We froze.
We watched it. It watched Spencer's drone.
Not wanting to scare it off — or lose the drone — we settled for taking photos of the magnificent bird.
From a distance.
Wheelchairs
After the rivers and hidden waterfalls, we returned to Pavones Point and watched world-renowned surfers dance with the double-overhead waves. Spencer flew his drone overhead to see the surf up close.
Michael told the tale of the legendary cantina that once sat overlooking the wave: Esquina del Mar. For decades it welcomed surfers and travelers alike, its ceiling adorned with broken surfboards. These unfortunate boards had fallen victim to the waves, or to the nearby rock formation nicknamed "Wheelchairs."
A foreboding warning, or perhaps a taunt, to anyone who dared surf near them.
A fire took the cantina in November 2011.
I can only imagine sitting under that ceiling. Surfers from across the globe and travelers from every corner of the map trading stories of the wave of their lives, and the one that nearly didn't let them go.
Goodbye to Paraíso
On the 10th, we said our goodbyes. To Aunt Beth and Uncle Michael. To Gus and Lucy, the dogs. To Vago (the vagabond) and Ms Pickles, the cats.
Watching the place we'd learned to call home fade into the rearview mirror wasn't easy. Saying goodbye to family never is. But I had a feeling we'd be back.
And something had taken hold.
On the farm, the food on the table was grown a few steps from it. The jungle pressed in at every edge, and nobody fought it. Life there wasn't lived around the natural world so much as with it — slower and more intentional.
I did my best to take some of that intention home with me, into my daily life.
Then we hit the road to Dominical, for our last night.
About three hours in, we hit traffic. Four kilometers from Dominical, we sat for thirty minutes.
So close. And yet so far.
Back to Fuego
When we finally arrived, we were ready for food (yet again).
Back to Fuego Brew Co. for the birria tacos.
If you read The Long Way In, you know we'd already ordered one of everything here on night one. The birria earned the encore.
Just as delicious the second time around.
After lunch, we walked down to the open-air market to find all kinds of knick-knacks and souvenirs.
We picked up souvenirs for the people back home — a couple of fridge magnets, plus some postcards for the fridge — and checked into our hotel. Tribe Boutique Hotel, a serene, secluded, jungle-side sanctuary in the heart of Dominical.
Last Supper at Lori's
After showering, we set out for dinner. A few steps from the hotel, we found the spot.
Lori Restaurant. An all-vegan spot.
For this crew, that's a holy grail. Spencer's gluten-free. Wynn's vegetarian.
I went for the Lori Burger: a veggie patty on a soft bun with homemade mustard, mayo, and chimichurri. As someone who's always on the hunt for a good burger wherever I am, I was pleasantly shocked.
A perfect closing meal for the final day of the trip.
Sitting there, I could declare it without a doubt: the entire expedition was a success.
Now it was time to see what we create.
I was beyond excited to get writing.
And We're Back
I wrote the end of this story at an airport hotel in Pittsburgh.
For the last few days of the trip, I didn't journal. I wanted to maximize the experience. Maybe I was a little in denial about coming home and didn't want to reflect on it yet.
But here I am, reflecting on it. Quite a few months later.
It's October now. Writing these stories, I've had the pleasure of experiencing the trip twice, and I needed the second time more than I expected.
I'll be honest: I don't know exactly where the next one is yet. Italy has been on my mind. But the promise I made in that journal still stands — find more creatives, keep building, keep chasing that dream.
I'm ready for the next one.
Any suggestions?
Siempre una aventura.
Huge thanks to Beth and Michael for opening up Paraíso de Miguel, to Neno and the Inés for the gulf, to Johan, who manages the farm, to Rudy (@rudycarillorojas) at Gaby's. And to the crew: Spencer (@spencer.is.a.story) and Wynn (@wy_photo_video). Follow their work.
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