Here we are! The inaugural Travel Bug Tuesday post, which I am proud to say, was written by my beautiful sister Jennifer. She is passionate about traveling and supporting our wildlife. She also has a killer view from an 8th story condo in Chicago. I’m not jealous or anything though. Please read the wonderful account of her trip to Costa Rica. And don’t forget to comment so my first guest blogger feels welcome ::waves at sister::

About the author: Jennifer is an amateur travel writer who enjoys traveling to new and different locations. In 2010 alone, she traveled to Paris, Thailand and Costa Rica! She is also an avid wildlife supporter. This was her first wildlife conservation experience. She lives in Chicago, Illinois and works as a health care administrator.

Under the darkness of a moonless sky on the Caribbean coast, I met the green sea turtle. In the faint star light I could see the blurry outlines of a darkened bump amidst the effervescent tide that encircled her. I never really saw her, to be honest, but I knew she was there. Xavier, my guide that first night and I waited silently along the shoreline for her to decide if this was going to be her spot to come ashore to lay her eggs. She was like hundreds of other would-be mothers that same night and for many nights to come that made the journey back to their place of birth so many years ago on the shores of Tortuguero National Park. For me, sitting there patiently waiting and straining to see her in the darkness, it felt much as I imagined it would have in prehistoric times. She was as close to the dinosaurs as I would ever come…

In September of 2010, I made the decision to volunteer with the Sea Turtle Conservancy. I spent a week at the research station at the protected Tortuguero National Park lodged between the Mawamba Lodge and the village of Tortuguero, each an easy walk from our habitation. The research station began in 1959 by a man named Archie Carr. He has long since passed, but his legacy to protect the sea turtles lives on.

Let me start by saying that Tortuguero is not a luxurious destination. The beach is riddled with debris and the sand is a darkened color with a gritty texture. Giant ghost crabs pop out unexpectedly from small holes in the sand. The beach at first glance looks in some places as though it has underwent a grenade attack with giant pits encroaching on the vegetation and sometimes even mid-beach ranging from three to four feet in diameter. The jungle reaches out nearly to the sea and birds of prey can be seen circling from above and calling to one another. I witnessed this for the first time amidst a cloud of ignorance. I had only a general sense of what went on in the overnight hours, but would quickly come to learn that the pits I was viewing were actually those of the turtles as part of their arduous ritual to lay their eggs and further their species.

Each night during breeding season, hundreds of sea turtles would come ashore and begin the process of cleaning, digging, laying eggs, and camouflaging their nests. I witnessed this that first night and for three additional nights beyond. In darkened clothing and with red lights sparingly used, teams of research assistants tracked the turtles, measured, and tagged them when possible in order to try to gain a better understanding of the breeding habits and number of turtles left in the wild. In four hour shifts, the teams went out each night to accomplish these tasks. The turtles themselves were highly sensitive to our presence and the utmost caution was used to minimize disturbance to them. They were enormous, sometimes weighing up to 300 pounds and if they didn’t want to be bothered, they could choose to return to the sea at anytime. The researchers taught me to read the tracks from the shoreline to know if a turtle was there or if she had returned already to the sea. The beach was scarred with the tracks of turtles coming and going. Sometimes we noted “half moons” where a turtle made a quick entry and exit without making a nest, who knew what had spooked her…

For me, day time hours could be hot and sultry, but were leisurely and the jungle paths and abundant wildlife made for great photography. The station where I stayed lies between the Caribbean Sea and the canals and rivers that make up the Tortuguero National Park. Canoe tours provided an up close view of caiman, monkeys, and many species of butterfly, bird and lizard. The jungle was a cacophony of sounds with the most notable the oropendola, a common Central American bird with a flashy golden tail. And the deep vocalizations of the howler monkey saturated the air for much of the day. My neighbors at the station included the ominous looking, yet timid and shy green iguana that made its home in the trees overhead at night and basked in the sun by day. In fact, these interesting creatures were the first ones to greet me as I traveled up the path to the main building that first afternoon.

At night after turtle work and a much needed shower, I would listen to the sound of the surf pounding the beach as I went to sleep, realizing that each wave could be occupied by a sea turtle. Or could be carrying one back out to sea, her duties complete.

The experience wasn’t just about the wildlife, although that was my prime reason for going. It was also an infusion of a variety of cultures including Hispanics, Garifunas, and the international presence of the research staff and tourists. The Caribbean side of Costa Rica as well as many other Central American nations is made up of a mixture of descendants from the remnants of the African slave trade that dominated this region a century or more ago. Many dialects were heard and a variety of languages were used. I was frequently mistaken for a German especially when I didn’t use English first, a humorous note given my own journey into my genealogical past that strangely enough shows up in my present.

As I waited at the landing strip that final morning to catch the puddle jumper plane to San Jose, I reflected that I had only seen hatchlings that had been accidentally dug up too early by other turtles furiously and unknowingly digging their own nests in what could be at times the grand central station of turtle world.

Apparently the hatchlings best chances are to make their journey at night under the cover of darkness hidden from the birds and other predators that are awaiting their arrival. Given this thought, I decided to take one last look at the sea and walked through a small opening in the brush where I was met by an ecstatic British tourist shouting across the runway to her husband that there were hatchlings on the beach. As I passed her by and headed to the ocean, I watched in amazement as several small hatchlings made their somewhat late journey to the sea that morning. They were miniature, darkened versions of their mothers. They climbed over sticks and out from deepened foot tracks on the quest to reach their new home. As soon as the surf bubbled up, they were gone with only their little hatchling tracks left as proof that they were ever there. Many will not make it, as the odds of surviving to adulthood at sea will prove to be too much. But as I watched these tenacious little creatures and thought of their much larger mothers’ quest to carry on, I realized that some will beat the odds and maybe because of my presence I will have in some small way helped to make this possible. It was a hopeful ending to a week of adventure and personal challenge for me.

For more information about the Caribbean Conservancy Corporation, please visit their website at http://www.conserveturtles.org/index.php

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