Monteverde Cloud Forest, Costa Rica | Eyes on the jungle, head in the clouds

I'm in the middle of this menagerie - 850 species of bird, 600 of butterfly, 1200 of orchid and 237 of mammal - but can't see the species for the trees. Or perhaps it's for the binoculars and lenses of the other spotters who, like me, are furiously eyeballing the jungle.

We're on a misty, 1440-metre ridge in the Monteverde Cloud Forest. I strain my eyes for the 20 species of hummingbird or the 3000 species of other teeming things that our guide, Alex, assures us live in, under and over the jungle canopy. He, of course, seems to spy them all effortlessly: "Ah, yes, over there, a black-faced solitaire thrush." And then: "Look, a quetzal. Oh, and see the agouti - a kind of guinea pig." And so on. Squinting and panning, zooming and pleading, "Where, where?" most of us eventually see the elusive whatever-it-was just after it flits or wriggles beyond our twitching digits.

I am convinced the only way Alex can perceive the imperceptible is by sneaking in here at dawn to superglue in place stuffed versions of these exotic creatures. Be that as it may, I do spot a rare quetzal, the fabled and endangered superstar of Central America's aviary. The regal turquoise creature sits high in the canopy with its 60-centimetre tail feathers trailing below like the train of a monarch's gown.

Monteverde is in the middle of the country; indeed, I can see the Pacific Ocean to the west, while the Caribbean sits further east, unseen. My journey started in the nation's surprisingly unlovely capital, San Jose, the only major "missable" part of this otherwise superb country. The shabby, "don't go out at night" downtown seems to be all burger franchises and razor wire, yet populated - at least during the day - by the most courteous people.

Next morning, I'm on a minibus heading east from the urban jungle into the real thing, rolling through the Braulio Carrillo National Park, where many scenes of the movie Jurassic Park were shot. "Enjoy your Costa Rican massage," calls our guide, Sebastian, as we hit corrugated rural roads. Soon enough we transfer to a canopied longboat and are gliding through iridescent jungle rivers walled by greenery. The three-hour journey is hypnotic. Almost too soon, we arrive at the little Caribbean town of Tortuguero, then transfer to a jungle lodge with the anomalous name of Samoa, complete with Wi-Fi.

"Tortuguero is the maximum expression of life on planet Earth," Sebastian says with more than a touch of Tico (Costa Rican) hyperbole. Tortuguero National Park is a Central American Amazon, with 21,000 hectares of rainforest (plus attendant rain), a major sea turtle hatchery and endless kilometres of canals. Each day, we prowl these backwaters looking for three-toed sloth, caimans and invisible lizards.

Our local guide, Marlon, sees a Jesus Christ lizard. "Where?" is, of course, our first response. A reasonable question. It sits motionless on a branch, looking nothing like a lizard and virtually indistinguishable from the leaves around it. The green basilisk lizard - its proper name - has a party trick that warrants the "JC" nickname: moving so fast and lightly that it can miraculously "walk" on water without sinking. How Marlon sees it from 20 metres away in the boat is also a miracle. Another case of superglue in the night?

I head west, climbing Costa Rica's central cordillera spine with its 200 volcanic vertebrae, 11 of them still active. At 1633 metres, active Mount Arenal is the most photographed, thanks to its symmetrical cone shape and fuming eructations.

Its namesake town is the Queenstown of Central America. Like the adventure mecca in New Zealand's South Island, backpackers flock to Arenal for zip-lining, rafting, trail riding, mountain biking, bungy jumping and canyoning thrills. I, however, settle for Arenal's least adrenal stunt: stewing in a hot spring. My resort is way out of town but does have a series of cascading pools: the higher you climb, the hotter the water. I sit at the top and simmer while a corona of mist settles on the volcano's brow.

Costa Rica, population 3.8 million, is a bridge of happy-enough sighs between the restive post-banana republics of Nicaragua and Panama to the north and south, respectively. While most of Central America arm-wrestled their independence from Spain in September 1821, Costa Rica - ever the sleeper - wasn't even aware of it until a month later. Since then, and unlike its neighbours, the country has largely enjoyed stable, democratic government. It radically defied the Latino tradition of revolving-door dictators and military coups by permanently abolishing its army in 1948 and instead allocating the funds to nation-building. Today, its comparatively prosperous economy depends on agricultural and electronics exports and tourism.

With nearly a quarter of its territory (51,000 square kilometres) being biological reserve, national park or wildlife refuge, in the age of ecotourism, Costa Rica is like a Jurassic Redemption Park.

Nowhere is this eco-Eden status more evident than in the town of Santa Elena and its celebrated 5000-hectare Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve. Its founders, pacifist American Quakers who moved here in the early 1950s, succeeded in gaining legislated protection for this unique domain of primary forest that remains home to quetzals, bellbirds and thousands of other species.

Monteverde Cloud Forest is a Garden of Eden with a gift shop. In the morning, we pay $17 to hike its well-marked trails, eagle-eyed Alex pointing out the "now-you-see-them-now-you-don't" critters that swing, slither and scamper through the jungle's primal topiary. Some creatures are so rare, so elusive - or simply so intelligent - that they steer well clear of our reverential but well-advertised presence. These include, I'm told, jaguar, ocelot, Baird's tapir and the wattled bellbird. Fair enough, given that among our numerous sightings I am satisfied to have seen the prized quetzal and then, at the end of the walk, to come to a hummingbird sanctuary. Here, brilliant, hyperactive little violet sabrewings hover like tiny, frenetic helicopters around a feeding station, their wings moving at 60-80 blurring beats a second.

Finally, it's adrenalin time. A zip-line is American parlance for what Australians call a flying fox. In a 100-hectare private reserve near Santa Elena, I board a cable car that hauls us up the mountain to a platform boasting a perfect view of the distant Arenal volcano. But we're not here for the view. A young Tico guide gives me a safety harness that hooks to a shackle that's attached to a sturdy metal cable stretching over the jungle. And we're off! Gravity does the rest as we soar 130 metres across a sea of green treetops until we reach a landing platform. Unshackling, we cross to another platform and do it again, rocketing out of the canopy to swoop across a second valley. It's like being Batman for a day, with a quetzal's-eye view of the forest below. In nine single and tandem "flights" we zigzag down 1320 metres of zip-line until landing, buzzing, back at the cable car station.

While Costa Rica has long been a favoured holiday and retirement destination for Americans, its Pacific and Caribbean coasts are largely free of the cancerous resort sprawls that consume many tropical shores. Little tourist towns dot its coast, often with a speciality ranging from scuba diving to surfing, or game fishing to doing nothing. The best known is the central Pacific coast town of Quepos and its nearby Manuel Antonio Beach. I spend an afternoon here, bodysurfing, reading and snoozing on its volcanic sands before heading towards the adjacent national park.

It's simian city in here. Howler monkeys go unseen but never unheard with a booming bark that rattles the jungle like Tarzan's holler. Equally difficult to see are the long-limbed spider monkeys. White-faced capuchins, however, are everywhere, including one that's devouring an unfortunate frog. "I always thought they were vegetarian," a surprised local man says. I see a three-toed sloth moving at glacial speed high in the trees, while lower down, tiny squirrel monkeys flit like quicksilver.

Call it Noah's Park or Jurassic Ark, there's just too much wildlife to keep up with. Of all the exotic creatures I encounter during my stumble in the jungle, there are two Costa Rican curiosities I miss, the coatimundi and the peccary. I still have little idea whether they are fish or fowl.

Three gems on the coast

1 Curu Wildlife Reserve on the Pacific coast's Nicoya Peninsula. Wander this primary forest at will and see white-faced capuchin monkeys galore. Don't miss the protective enclosure for the elusive and endangered spider monkeys. nicoyapeninsula.com/curu.

2 Sea Turtle Conservancy Centre, at Tortuguero on the Caribbean coast. The beach sands here are studded with marker poles indicating protected turtle eggs below. The centre's Turtle Museum has excellent educational displays on turtle life and lore. conserveturtles.org.

3 Playas del Coco ("Coconut Beaches") on the north Pacific coast. This sleepy retreat with a handful of bars and pizzerias offers clear waters, peace and quiet (plus old-time internet speeds) with access to quality diving and surfing. govisitcostarica.com.

Trip notes

Getting There

Fly Sydney to San Jose via Dallas-Fort Worth on Qantas and American Airlines from $2874 including taxes. 1300 939 414, flightcentre.com.au.

Touring there

World Expeditions' eight-day Best of Costa Rica tour departs daily, year-round and is priced from $1390 (single surcharge $310). 1300 720 000, worldexpeditions.com.

Staying there

Best Western Irazu is a convenient and well-run three-star hotel and casino in Irazu, an upmarket enclave near San Jose airport and 15 minutes from its less salubrious downtown. Rooms (with breakfast) start from $US122 ($116) a night. Costa Rican street addresses can be imprecise or non-existent. In this case, it is Km. Three, Autopista General Canas but don't worry, taxi drivers know it. +506 2290 9300, bestwestern.com.

Hotel El Rodeo Country Inn, a spacious family hotel with pool and restaurant in San Antonio de Belen, is 10 minutes from San Jose airport and 20 from downtown. Isolated but secure, it is perfect for short stays en route to your excursions. Singles, $US75/night; $US85/double. Belen-Santa Ana Road, San Antonio de Belen, Heredia. +506 2293 3909, elrodeohotel.com.

Samoa Lodge and Resort is a cosy, German-run lodge hidden on the banks of Tortuguero Canal beside the Caribbean. There are tiger herons on the roof and giant Hercules beetles in the scrub. Access is by a 10-minute dinghy trip from Tortuguero village. You'll want at least two nights here. Round trip packages ex-San Jose for one night, two days (including transport, meals, lodging and tours) start from $US213 a person. +506 2222 3927 or +506 2222 3931, hotelflordetortuguero.com.

Hotel El Sapo Dorado was named after Monteverde's now-extinct golden toad. This friendly, sunny resort with big bungalow suites and a good restaurant sits on a hillside not far from the famous Cloud Forest. You can see as far as the Pacific coast from your balcony, then stroll to nearby Santa Elena village. Nightly room rates (including breakfast) are $US103 for a single, $US122 a double, plus 13 per cent tax. +506 2645 5010, sapodorado.com.

See + do

Monteverde zip-line. Sky Trek and Sky Tram package, $US60 (adult), $US38 (child). skyadventures.travel.

Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve. Guided tours, $US41. monteverdeinfo.com.

Manuel Antonio National Park, Quepos. Entrance fee, $US10. manuelantoniopark.com.

When to go

This is a year-round destination. Rainy season is from May to November, dry season December to April.

With the kids

Costa Rica can be fascinating for all travellers, including families. Its strengths are wildlife and jungles, plus very good tourism infrastructure. Add to this the daily challenge of using Spanish. It is a long-haul destination (allow 24-hour travel door-to-door, Sydney to San Jose), suitable for a longer holiday of at least a week.

microsites.visitcostarica.com.