"The water in these situations does not give you time to negotiate."
The ranger at the Río Celeste trailhead said it plainly: "El nivel del agua está alto. Quédese en los senderos marcados. Si escucha truenos, salga." The water level is high. Stay on marked paths. If you hear thunder, get out.
I nodded. I had heard versions of this before. I did not understand what he meant.
It was 9:40am on a Tuesday in mid-October — the tail end of Costa Rica's temporada lluviosa , when the Pacific slope of the Guanacaste mountains absorbs 300 to 400mm of rainfall per month. The sky was overcast but stable. The air smelled of wet moss and sulfur. I was one of the first six visitors through the gate that morning.
The trail at Tenorio Volcano National Park is well-maintained: wooden boardwalk sections over the muddiest stretches, rope lines where the path descends toward the river, clear orange marker poles every 50 meters. The water is that particular blue that makes people think a photograph has been edited — caused by nanoparticles of calcium carbonate meeting volcanic minerals at the point where two tributaries converge, el teñidero . I reached the mirador by 10:35. I took photographs I knew would not capture it.
The sound arrived before anything changed visually.
A low, sustained rushing — not the waterfall I could already hear, but something different in register, something wider. The river was clearing its throat. Within forty seconds the water on the trail at my feet, which had been an inch deep, was at my ankles. Then my calves.
I did not panic. This is what I want to say. But I moved — quickly, uphill, away from the riverbank, grabbing the rope line and pulling. Two other hikers — a couple from Germany who had been photographing orchids twenty meters behind me — saw what was happening and moved in the same direction. We did not speak. We climbed together to a wide flat section of boardwalk, elevated perhaps 1.5 meters above the normal waterline, and we waited.
The surge lasted eleven minutes. I timed it on my phone.
The Ranger
When José appeared — his name was on his vest, radio in hand, boots already soaked — he had been running from the entrance. The park uses a weather monitoring system that had sent him an alert at 10:48am. He arrived at our position at 11:03. He guided us out on a secondary access path I had not known existed, cut along the ridge above the normal trail. The exit took forty minutes.
At the trailhead, a SINAE (Sistema Nacional de Emergencias) vehicle was already parked. Two officials checked if anyone needed medical attention. I had twisted my left ankle on a root I hadn't seen while climbing. Ice pack. Assessment. A recommendation to visit the clinic in Bijagua — the nearest town, eight kilometers south — if swelling continued.
It continued.
The clinic in Bijagua is a single-story government EBAIS — a primary care unit. A doctor examined my ankle, confirmed no fracture on the portable X-ray, and prescribed anti-inflammatories. Total cost: ₡45,000 colones, approximately $87. Three days later in San José, a sports medicine evaluation at Clínica Bíblica — a private hospital on Avenida 14 — cost $340.
I had travel insurance. I paid nothing.
What Happened With the Insurance
This part matters, so I'm going to be direct.
I had travel insurance. I'd purchased it before the trip, partly because I was driving a rental in a country I didn't know well, and partly because a friend had told me — and I want to pass this on exactly as he said it — "in Costa Rica, during rainy season, something always happens."
The Claims That Were Covered
I'm not saying this to sell you insurance. I'm saying this because Héctor saved my life in the water, and the insurance handled everything else, and both of those things were necessary, and I'd had one and almost hadn't had the other.
I went back to thank Héctor properly before I flew home. Brought him a bottle of rum and a box of coffee from San José. He seemed amused by the gesture.
"Usted pagó bien," he said. You paid well. He meant: you got out. You made it.
I fly back to Costa Rica next November. I've already booked the same region, a different road, a longer stay. Héctor knows I'm coming. Elena has already said she'll make rice and beans again.
I've already bought the insurance.
