something ice- cold and sugar- heavy – usually pineapple, sugarcane, or passion fruit. It was also another chance to practice Spanish with a local, who would inevitably laugh with us while correcting our pronunciation or offering a better way to say what we were trying to say.
We stopped at one of the viewpoints just in time to catch the last light of golden hour spilling across the landscape. As we neared the end of our week- long ride, there was a quiet understanding between Caleb and me that this wouldn’ t be the last time we explored this country.
From the incredible biodiversity to the genuinely welcoming locals who helped us improve our Spanish one conversation at a time, to the simple, unforgettable food – we had only scratched the surface. Even with a full day of riding still ahead, we were already thinking about when we’ d come back.
Rio CanO NegRo
Back at the river, the decision had already been made. Caleb and I stood at the side of the Rio Cano Negro, giving each other a silent yet knowing look. We were about to ride across the
biggest and deepest water crossing we had ever attempted. One of the local construction workers who was helping with the bridge rebuilding efforts was trying to convince us to give it a try.“ Aqui es buen! Aqui es buen! Pasa por aqui! Evita esas rocas!” He was hollering at us while he walked toward the water, pointing at the path he recommended we follow.
“ Are you sure you want to give it a try?” Caleb said to me through the helmet comms.“ Are you sure YOU want to?” I answered.
We nodded silently to each other and walked back towards the bikes, which had already steadily carried us over more than a thousand miles of Costa Rican backroads.
After zipping and cinching everything in place, it was my turn to go first. Trying to remember the path the Tico pointed out a little while ago( hey, where did he go, anyways?), I started slowly into the water. Picking my line carefully, I tried to stay on the high ground and keep my feet on the pegs. Until I hit a large rock that darted my front wheel to the side and sent me nose first into a deeper hole. I stopped momentarily, sliding to one side of the bike as my foot fell into the deepest point. I steadied myself as water rushed over the top of
Top: The sun painted the countryside in shades of gold, turning an already beautiful landscape into something unforgettable. Bottom: Crossing the rushing waters of the Rio Cano Negro offered a glimpse at Costa Rica’ s untamed spirit.
CaptionObitatur rerrum, as eium quam el essersp ieniam rest, net, volum fuga. Et volum consedi conestis earit vellori aeperch illuptatur apic
48 / JULY 2026 / RIDERMAGAZINE. COM