We left our hotel at dawn for the best chance at wildlife and clear views of Arenal Volcano. Our destination was Arenal Observatory Lodge, 870 acres of rainforest tucked between the volcano and Lake Arenal, where more than 500 species of birds have been recorded. Well, we almost left at dawn — we did stop for a mocha first. I'm dedicated, but I need caffeine.
The mountain roads wound us through small patches of rain showers, and by the time we arrived the sky was cloudy but holding. We decided to push our luck and head straight for the "Nest," a 28-meter observation tower with 146 steps that sway ever so slightly in the wind. On a clear day, the 360° view from the top takes in the volcano, Lake Arenal, Cerro Chato, and the Tilarán mountains. Today it took in a whole lot of clouds — but just as I reached the top, a pair of macaws flew across the canopy. Breathtaking.
And then it started to rain, and I had a sudden urge to be back on the ground and very far away from a giant tower of metal. We took cover in the hummingbird garden, which is honestly not a bad place to be stranded. Hummingbirds crack me up. They are little but mighty — daringly buzzing close, dive-bombing one another to defend their territory, completely unbothered by the weather or by us.
When the rain let up, we tucked our rain jackets into our backpacks and set out to explore. The property has about 11 kilometers of trails, and we picked the ones running along the edges of the reserve. We made it to the farthest stretch, and that's when the clouds unleashed. Our rain jackets were no match for the rainforest. We were absolutely soaked — the kind of soaked where you stop trying to avoid puddles because what's the point. We ducked into a rain shelter, wrung out our socks, and shook out our jackets.
Bird watching, wildlife spotting, and volcano views were clearly not happening today. But you know what thrives in the rain? Waterfalls. Our new mission: hike to every waterfall on the property and enjoy the fog and clouds rolling over the mountains.
The first waterfall was sheer power, and worth the climb down what must have been 150 steps — I really didn't have a plan for getting back out of there. I laughed from pure happiness at the rawness of it, the roar of rushing water and the mist adding another layer to my already drenched clothes. We did make it back to the top of the trail, under strong protest from my glutes.
The second waterfall was everything I had pictured a rainforest to be. We hiked across a flooded road (the water was only a few inches deep, I promise) to where a small river cut through the forest, ferns and moss clinging to every rock. It was smaller than the first, but the setting made you feel like you'd wandered into a scene from Jurassic Park.
By the last waterfall, I'll be honest — I was done hiking in the rain and getting a little cranky. I get the hangries when I don't get my snacks. But we pushed on, down a narrow path and over small wooden-planked bridges, hearing the water long before we could see it. When we turned the final corner, I stopped in my tracks. This waterfall was tall. I had to crane my neck to find the top of it. Slender, but no less impressive — it looked like water dripping straight out of the clouds and over the rocks.
There is something mystical about standing at the bottom of a waterfall and letting the mist roll over you. For a few moments, all you hear is rushing water, and all you can do is be present.
Sometimes you just have to wring out your socks, wait out the storm, and regroup. Without the deluge, I never would have spent the day chasing waterfalls. Standing there in the mist, watching water pour out of the clouds and down the mountainside, I realized the rain hadn't ruined the day at all. It had simply changed where we needed to look.
