In the late aughts, colonialism, imperialism, and (not unrelated) swelling coastal development along the Pacific coastline of Costa Rica (to say nothing of neighboring nations) had left ocean frontage bare of once-lush hardwood habitat—jungle, for all intents and purposes.
What lay in its wake was sorry-looking patches of brown brush and grass that, to visiting surfers, may have looked like natural dune grass, but in actual fact was simply just the land’s answer to patterned baldness and an excess of cattle farms.
Spend enough time hunting waves up and down the Pacific coast of Central America, and you’ll recognize it easily enough—there are plenty of beaches still looking like this, though, similarly, they didn’t used to. (That history is thoroughly detailed by the Guardian’s excellent firsthand reporting on this heartening success story.)
What changed for Costa Rica’s Playa Hermosa and later on Nosara, was thanks in no small part to a spark of romance. A Costa Rican university student named Max Tattenbach, who used to make his way to Playa Hermosa to surf, had begun bringing his girlfriend—who didn’t surf—in tow. A day at the beach would have been all well and good for her, if only not for the lack of shade.
In a fantastically passionate gesture, lovebird Tattenbach told fellow lovebird and soon-to-be wife Mrs. Tattenbach that he would sow the wild seed of native flora all about the beach so as to provide her shade while he scored atop the bosom of the other great love of his life, Mother Ocean.
From that moment or thereabouts in 2009, Tattenbach garnered community support and founded Costas Verdes.
What started in Hermosa indeed spread south to Guiones, a fun-for-all beach break (to wit: mind the stingrays and do the shuffle) that’s become something of a free-for-all—but at least the howler monkeys are back swinging from the trees of which they were once crassly robbed by none other than our shameful race. But no need to digress further.
And where both local and visiting homo sapiens can both certainly agree, whether they find that incessant, banshee-like bellowing coming from the treetops charming or not, is on the added value of shade, as well as a pleasant stroll through cool, tidy, winding little paths through dense woods that border on deep jungle. The channeled foot traffic also makes for an excellent point of commerce for local vendors who are no longer forced to beat their way up and down the once-shadowless beach in the sweltering sun.
Fast-forward nearly two decades, and Tattenbach and co. have planted more than 100,000 native trees across 34 beaches.
But Costas Verdes doesn’t want to stop there. The nonprofit’s project manager for three years and counting, Gerardo Bolaños has big plans.
Still, he has an ambitious goal for Costas Verdes: to plant 300,000 trees across 100 beaches. “Our success story in Guiones shows the world that bringing back a coastal forest ecosystem in such devastated land is possible,” he says. “But it can only be done together as one.”
And that means financing. Costas Verdes hopes to raise $295,000 this coming year, mainly through donations, tree-planting tours—at $70 a pop–and general merch sales. That may seem like a pretty penny, but it’s nothing next to the hefty bank accounts that are building and patronizing the area’s booming beachside hospitality industry.
Another challenge, says Bolaños, is securing the active involvement of coastal communities and sustaining commitment beyond the initial kickstart. “People have their own lives. We need maintenance, follow-up, funding,” he says.
But what’s a stolen moment for some surfside shade, if not a healthy forest and planet? The more visiting surfers—hitting Hermosa and Guiones in droves and as much as ever—who can lend a hand or a handful of colones, the more reforestation, naturally. Onward and upward with the trees.
Related: How Humans And Mangroves Can Fend Off Climate Chaos (And Storm Havoc)
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