The First Time I Had Something Stolen in Costa Rica

Sadly, this is a three part series since I’ve been robbed more than once. This was the first time, over 20 years ago, when there were a lot less tourists visiting Costa Rica. I had already been on a few surf trips around the country, but this was one of my first times on the Guanacaste coast. I hope this series offers a reminder to others, that even if you think your things are safe it is important to always be vigilant with your belongings.

So back in 1999, before digital cameras arrived, I loved taking surfing photos. I had a Nikon 35mm camera with a decent 500mm lens for getting up close to the surf action. In Dominical I would take photos of local and visiting surfers, then take the bus over the mountain to San Isidro to get the rolls of films developed, and then take the bus again to pick up the finished prints, hoping they were not too blurry or dark or out of center to share.

My friends Tommy and Russ were visiting from Florida and we headed up to Playa Negra, a powerful hollow right wave that breaks on a rock reef shelf. At low tide I was able to walk out over the shelf and take some unreal photos of my friends getting barrelled in the dark blue cylinders that formed 100 meters away. They paddled in and got a few of me as well. We were so stoked.

The next morning at dawn we left our hotel in Tamarindo and headed down to Avellanas. We were the only ones in the parking lot and we walked with our boards and my camera down the beach north to the rivermouth, just across from where Hacienda Pinilla starts now. We had heard not to leave anything in the car so we left it empty.

The waves at the rivermouth were amazing, 1-2 feet overhead on the sets, milky glass conditions and not another person around. I took some shots for about 30 minutes and by then was dying to paddle out and catch a few myself. I looked up and down the beach and didn’t see another soul. I thought no one could sneak up on the wide sandy section where I was standing to take my gear without one of us seeing them.

So I set the camera back in its nondescript bag and pushed the bag against a large log that had washed up from an earlier swell. The sun was just peeking over the trees as I walked into the shore break with my board, anxious to paddle out. It took about 5 minutes to get to the peak, and when I turned back to the beach it appeared the bag was still there.

I caught one wave, did a couple of carves and finished with a floater, diving off the board to avoid the shallow sandbar. I looked toward the beach again, and at that moment I saw a man standing over the log with my camera bag in his hands. I shouted to my friends that I was getting robbed and jumped on my board to belly surf to the sand.

I left the board there, somehow running towards the log and removing my leash at the time. I was sprinting to catch up to the guy who had a head start towards the mangroves behind the hotel Cabinas Las Olas. I remember crawling over fallen logs, jumping over grass and mud, thinking the thief was just ahead of me as I could hear the rustling and breaking tree limbs as he crashed through them.

After 10 minutes of running barefoot I lost him but kept plodding forward with my eyes on the ground, hoping that maybe he dropped the rolls of film and only wanted the camera. Eventually I reached the hotel grounds and searched all over the property hoping to find the thief or anything that was in the camera bag. I came up empty and both feet were bleeding from the rough terrain.

My friends brought my board back to the car and we drove around for another hour, wondering how he was able to stalk us, get to the bag, and then escape without getting caught. We checked around the nearby village to see if anyone was trying to sell a camera. And we went back to surf the same spot the next day so I could retrace my steps of the chase, hoping again that the thief dropped something.

I will always remember how good the waves were that trip, but not having those photos hurts to this day. The lesson I learned is – Never leave your valuables unattended on the beach – even something as trivial as a pair of flip flops. Someone is bound to be watching you and waiting for the right moment to steal it. For things like keys or a phone, if there is no place to hide them really well and you have to leave them on the beach, put them in an old plastic snack bag and dig multiple holes, and then bury them in one of the holes. Or find an old coconut husk and hide your keys in there, setting it back among other beach debris above the high tide line. At least that way the thief will need more time to find your stuff.