Want to See Monkeys and Sloths in Central America? Get on a Boat
This expedition cruise takes you to the heart of Costa Rica and Panama.
“Shhhhh! Quick!” exclaims veteran Costa Rican naturalist Conrad Weston as he lowers his binoculars and slinks into the damp rainforest with the reflexes and vigor of someone half his age. Silent-mode camera in hand, the tall, lanky birder captures an image of the white-throated shrike tanager. He is breathless with excitement over spotting this curious yellow-chested bird, which sports black wings and a fan-like tail, in Costa Rica’s Corcovado National Park.
According to the New York Times, the white-throated shrike tanager is among the tropical forest inhabitants that have lost more than a third of their global habitat since 2001. “This isn’t a difficult bird to see if you’re in the right place,” Weston tells me afterward. “Getting to these places is what’s difficult.”
Weston is one of the expedition guides accompanying a troupe of just 33 voyagers, myself included, cruising the Central American country’s Pacific coastline aboard Australian-based Aurora Expeditions’ ship Greg Mortimer. We’re the only group exploring this stretch of Corcovado, having arrived by panga boat at San Pedrillo, one of six ranger stations responsible for sectors of the park. Situated on the Osa Peninsula in southwestern Costa Rica, Corcovado is the country’s largest national park. To maintain its pristine ecosystem, park authorities enforce strict controls on visitor numbers. These vary between ranger stations and are reviewed periodically, but somewhere around 100 people can visit each sector daily between about 7 am. and 4 pm. All boats must be registered and work all over the region, Weston says. You can also only visit Corcovado with a certified guide.
It’s precisely this commitment to preserving the natural environment and wildlife that’s established the country as a pioneering ecotourism destination. Costa Rica is home to about 6% of the world’s species, including more than 6,700 marine, 900 bird, and 250 reptile species. The National System of Conservation Areas (SINAC) oversees the country’s network of protected areas, namely national parks, wildlife refuges, and other conservation zones. It primarily regulates sustainable tourism within these areas, and through collaboration with local communities and tour operators, aims to safeguard the environment. A percentage of ecotourism revenue is then reinvested in protected areas.
“Corcovado is considered among the most important and active places in the world in terms of biodiversity,” says our guide José. Here alone, there are more than 256 bird species, 52 types of mammals, and more than 10,000 insect species, he notes. “The animals don’t see us as a threat,” José continues, amid a chorus of sing-song bird calls. “They know we aren’t going to attack them so they just see us as part of the forest.”
The Osa Peninsula is one of the few places in Central America where jaguars are still found. Considered a keystone species, the survival of jaguars is critical to the health and resilience of the larger ecosystem. According to the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Red List of Threatened Species, jaguars are near-threatened globally and critically endangered in Costa Rica. But their elusiveness makes it difficult to estimate their numbers. It’s believed there are between 15,000 and 75,000 left in the wild worldwide. “I’ve heard 50 individual jaguars are left in Costa Rica, but it’s hard to know,” says Weston.
Named after the intrepid Australian mountain climber who co-founded the expedition cruise company with his wife Margaret, the 341-foot, 132-passenger Greg Mortimer is sailing from Costa Rica to Panama. Earlier in the 13-day journey, we spent a few hours exploring Manuel Antonio National Park in Puntarenas province on Costa Rica’s central Pacific coast. In contrast to Corcovado, there were numerous groups taking tours. At 683 hectares, Manuel Antonio, established in 1972 and open year-round daily except Tuesdays, is the country’s smallest but best-known national park. Dense tropical rainforest, white-sand beaches and myriad wildlife draw up to 1,200 daily visitors, who can access only 30% of it. Notably, in May 2023, Costa Rica’s constitutional court ordered the number of visitors be cut by half to reduce the environmental impact.
Entering the park, I felt a slight heaviness in my chest as I breathed in the thick tropical air. At around 89 degrees Fahrenheit, the air temperature was unbearable, the 84% humidity making matters even worse. Our brows glistening with perspiration, we followed our guide Henry along the trail, which is flat, making it accessible and wheelchair-friendly. With so many fellow visitors, I wondered if we’d see any animals and remembered Weston’s first onboard briefing. “People come to Costa Rica and say, ‘I want to be there,’” he told us, showing a mural teeming with scarlet macaws, jaguars, ocelots, and toucans. “Not gonna happen.” What he meant was we shouldn’t expect to be surrounded by animals, Dr. Dolittle-style.
Equipped with a powerful scope used for spotting wildlife, Henry paused every 30 feet or so, his ears attuned to the slightest sounds and movements of the forest. Spying a brown-throated, three-toed sloth, whose shaggy brown coat serves as brilliant camouflage, gently making its way through the forest canopy, he offered a close-up view. “It’s not often you’ll see a sloth on the move,” Henry said of the arboreal leaf-eater that moves at about a foot per second through treetops. “For a sloth, this is sprint speed.”
Just off the trail, a white-tailed deer stood frozen, eyes widened and ears pricked. “There must be a predator deeper in the brush, like an ocelot or jaguarundi [a sleek brown wild cat], so she’s listening,” Henry explained. Occasionally stamping the ground with a single hoof in an attempt to ward off her enemy, she paid us no attention. “Humans aren’t viewed as a predator here,” Henry said.
Manuel Antonio is Costa Rica’s most popular park because there’s a great deal of wildlife concentrated in a small area, Henry explained, as he pointed out a toucan. “They’re quite mean with other bird species because they steal their eggs and eat them,” he said.
Further along, a white-nosed coatimundi, which resembles a mix between an anteater and lemur but is a raccoon relative, crunched on seedpods, ignoring us. Another coati scurried up a tree with Spider-Man-like ease. And we heard howler monkeys long before we saw their silhouettes swinging across the rainforest canopy.
Our next destination was Golfo Dulce (“sweet gulf” in Spanish) which, like Corcovado, is on the Osa Peninsula. After making landfall at Saladero Eco Lodge, located within Piedras National Park, we wandered amid palm trees lining the silver sand beach. A sign warned of falling coconuts, a disturbingly common cause of fatalities. But walking through grounds filled with flowers and mango and avocado trees, I was convinced we had arrived in Eden.
Meeting our warmly-welcoming naturalist guide Gerson Cedeño Sequeira, we embarked on a trek into the wet tropical jungle. “Someone said they saw a snake here this morning, so keep an eye out,” Sequeira warned. No snakes, but we did see a strikingly-patterned caracara, an unusual member of the falcon family, seated on a coconut palm perch searching for prey. Toward the end of the hike, expeditioner Gabby asked that we pause. “Let’s be silent for a minute so I can record the sounds of the rainforest,” she said. Without the distraction of human voices, a sweet cacophony of bird calls revealed itself. We could hear a male trogon calling out “coo coo coo coo” and an aracari toucan’s echoing chirp in the distance. “The trogon belongs to a huge family of birds, and it includes one of the most beautiful birds of the near tropics—the quetzal,” Gerson explained. “This is a paradise for birds.”
That afternoon, marine biologist and conservationist Phoebe Edge led a Zodiac cruise on the calm, teal waters of the 656-foot deep tropical fjord, one of just four in the world, in search of bottlenose dolphins. Soon enough, we found a pod feeding. Edge, who serves as director of environmental NGO Osa Ecology, dipped a microphone into the water so we could eavesdrop on their conversations—a series of trills, grunts, and squeaky door-type sounds.
Anchors aweigh, and we were off to Panama. Best known for its famous canal, Panama has only recently begun to showcase its rich biodiversity and taken steps to protect it. Turning its attention to sustainable tourism development, the Panamanian government has put indigenous and rural communities front and center of initiatives to draw conscientious, adventure-seeking travelers. In Coiba National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site off the country’s southwest coast, we snorkeled amid corals near the remote Pepito isle. Despite drizzly weather, we spotted Moorish idols, surgeonfish and parrot fish. Off Coco islet, a pair of green turtles weighing well over 220 pounds flapped past us, one with a fin missing but no less nimble.
Mission Blue Foundation classifies Coiba as one of 161 Hope Spots, an initiative that identifies and seeks to safeguard areas of the world deemed critical to supporting marine life and the health of the world’s oceans. Like land animals, marine animals are always on the move. Numerous species, such as sharks, migrating humpbacks and sea turtles, pass through the Eastern Tropical Pacific Ocean. When they’re within the boundaries of marine protected areas (MPAs), they’re relatively safe. But when they’re between MPAs, they can fall victim to unsustainable fishing practices. Panama’s decision to expand the Cordillera de Coiba MPA to three times its current size, reaching the edge of the country's Exclusive Economic Zone and two Colombian MPAs means that migrating marine animals will be better protected.
It’s no coincidence the godmother and namesake of Greg Mortimer’s sister vessel is renowned oceanographer and Mission Blue founder Sylvia Earle. With more than three decades of expedition experience, particularly in Antarctica and the Arctic, Aurora Expeditions considers environmental education paramount to its mission, striving to educate voyagers about the challenges facing the delicate environments that its ships visit. On our expedition, experts like Weston and Edge delivered in-depth lectures to prepare us for every land- and sea-based adventure and followed up with detailed interactive debriefings on what we’d just witnessed. Weston recounted entertaining tales of how he managed to capture images of Panama’s rare national bird, the imposing harpy eagle, “It showed up in the wrong moment, in the wrong light. But I saw it carrying a howler monkey,” he said.
During a presentation on sea turtles, in which Edge mentioned the impact of discarded plastic straws on these ancient mariners, she said, “If every single one of us changed a handful of things in our day-to-day habits, it would make a huge difference.”
Panama truly proved to be a revelation. As Weston noted during one talk, Costa Rica has managed to “promote itself better” as an ecotourism destination, but its southerly neighbor is also brimming with rare wildlife you won’t see anywhere else. Heading out on boats to explore Gatun Lake, which forms part of the Panama Canal system, I was surprised to discover just how many species call it home. Our skipper maneuvered close to a bank so we could get a closer look at mischievous white-throated capuchin monkeys swinging in the trees. “Don’t show your teeth; they view it as an act of aggression,” Edge said of the omnivore whose diet includes everything from fruit to iguanas.
In a neighboring boat, capuchins which, together with chimpanzees are considered the world’s smartest primates, bounced on the roof as passengers tossed them bananas. Weston, however, made it clear that feeding capuchins was anathema to efforts to ensure Panamanian wildlife remained wild. The scene underscored the challenges Costa Rica and Panama face in striking a balance between preserving the countries’ natural wealth and the pressure tourism places on vulnerable habitats.
As we crossed the Panama Canal, Panamanian guide Jean Maurice Posner pointed out an American freshwater crocodile that appeared to have made one of the watertight locks his home. In Central America, where wildlife-spotting can happen in the most unlikely places, I was relieved to be viewing the reptile lashing its tail in the water from the bow of an expedition ship.