We are on the Nicoya peninsular in Costa Rica, a long promontory that stretches for 35 kilometres south from the northern end of the Pacific coast. It is famous for the turtles that come ashore to lay their eggs and later for the mass hatchings. It was famous for its string of glorious isolated beaches but they won’t be isolated for much longer. Most of them are still only accessible by rough road, which is why we are not going to attempt to get to some of the best. The rainy season is imminent and we don’t want to spend the next four months stuck on a coconut-palm fringed beach. Did I just write that? What’s wrong with spending four months in a place like this?

We’ve been in Costa Rica for well over a week now and most reluctant to leave. We set off in the south coming from Panama. Like Panama it’s hot as hell on the Pacific coastal plain; the same goes for the Caribbean coast. Up in the highlands it’s a lot cooler, but still on the hot side so that’s where we headed first – up to San Vito and then westwards to ply our route along the line of volcanoes that form the central cordillera.

We have read and been told that the roads in Costa Rica are terrible and full of potholes and that the drivers are the worst in Central America. Since the latest president took office a couple of years ago, huge amounts of money have been spent filling in holes and resurfacing roads. Whoever made the statement about the drivers obviously hasn’t been to Ecuador. There is nothing wrong with the roads or the drivers, so we are happy bunnies. The police checks are few, even more reason to be contented.

Driving in South America can be real hairshirt stuff, as you now know. It can take ages to cover conservative distances just because of the road conditions. Driving in Costa Rica is enjoyable so you don’t want to go fast anyway and miss anything. This is a good thing because if you did want to cover goodly distances in a day, it ain’t possible.

The powers that be take the view that no-one needs to know where they are, no-one needs to know where they’re going. Some parts of Costa Rica are a maze of narrow or single track roads, some tar sealed, some dirt. None are signposted. There are no road signs in towns or at major junctions. Are they expecting an invasion, and like Kent during the war, all road signs have been removed so that spies and foreign armies won’t know which way to go? If that is the motivation, it’s a huge success. So, like spies and subversives, we spent ridiculous amounts of time asking the way. Ticos (as Costa Ricans are known), speak slowly when giving you the first direction and then slip seamlessly into machinegun Spanish. We can, by now, pick out right (derecho) and left (alzuedo), first, second, and third junction and beyond that we are confused.

There are a lot of Ticos who have never left their home village and have no idea what lies around the next corner, so asking the way became a regular routine. It’s also amazing how many people disagree about where anywhere is. You talk to a lot of people in Costa Rica when you’re on the road.

It’s also amazing how many invading foreigners managed to find their perfect spot in Costa Rica. The mountain lodge we found up a 1:3 drive was run by a Canadian and a German. They had a Japanese Akita dog and a Mexican Chihuahua. They all got here without road signs. Amazing. We were at altitude in cloud forest, this lodge was popular with birdwatchers (139 species of bird have been sighted here); our cabana had panoramic views of mountains and coffee plantations. The bird feeders attracted at least three species of hummingbird, along with several bright blue birds the size of a swallow but so much faster in flight. They liked to dive bomb us, trying to put a parting in our eyelashes.

There is a mountain road known as Paso del Muerte, so called because of the high road death toll. OK, it twists and turns and it has a double yellow line along its full length and it’s full of lorries crawling uphill but no more dangerous than many roads we’ve driven. It’s supposed to be possible to see both the Pacific and Caribbean coasts from up here - when the cloud doesn’t obscure everything. There are many side trips along this stretch of road, some down steep dirt roads with hairpin bends. It would have been easy to get down them, but back uphill on mud? Don’t think so. We took a well travelled detour through coffee plantations around the Santa Maria de Dota circuit, a series of twisty, short, sharp spectacular ups and downs. Another problem soon revealed itself, and we suppose it applies to other countries also – what is on the map does not always reflect what is on the ground, and visa versa. It’s so easy to get lost forever in this particular neck of the woods.

Our final destination on one particular day was Orosi, but you try finding it. We got stuck in a loop somewhere between Cartago and Orosi. I stopped to ask a Tico the way and he pointed that way. At the same time a guy in a 4WD pulled up and told Roberto to follow him in the opposite direction. He was from Bromley in the UK, had lived in many countries including the USA, which explained his American accent, and now was settled in Orosi. Apart from playing the big drum professionally in Scottish pipe bands, he was also into older classic cars, which was why he stopped to help.

His neighbour ran a B&B so we stayed there instead of our chosen hotel. He and his partner were Americans, of the first generation hippy. He used to have a 1953 TD but it was stolen. It was an interesting place, as was Orosi itself. The town and surrounding area seemed to be full of aging dropouts from the USA, the UK, and Europe. We felt comfortable here, the town had a relaxed easy atmosphere. Maybe we should join our peer group.

Costa Rica is one of the best places to stick your head over the edge of an active volcano crater. Our route from Orosi to Volcan Poas took us around the capital, San Jose. I had bought a second Costa Rica map on the strength of its street plan of San Jose. Without it we would still be there now. Volcan Poas puts out a constant head of steam, the crater lake boils. You have to get up early to see it clearly; we got there about 8am just as the national park gates opened. One hour later and we couldn’t see the hand in front of our faces. Sadly, the tour buses arrive just as the cloud descends.

That didn’t take long to tick off the list so we decided to try to find La Paz Waterfall gardens - so many people had told us we really must go see. The entry price was extortionate but what the heck. It was worth every cent. The aviary was one of the best we’ve seen. We’ve long been of the opinion that the best way to see tropical rainforest birds is to view them from above, which the aerial walkways allow visitors to do. Did you know that there are hummingbirds the size of a bumble bee? And that some species of hummingbird can perch where others must feed on the wing?

Butterflies are things that lay eggs that turn into caterpillars that leave my cabbages looking like net curtains. We don’t get on. We entered a butterfly house where the air was full of huge, multicoloured beauties that took our breath away. The insect house had the same effect but for different reasons – we will never camp in rainforest after seeing these specimens, fortunately deceased and stuck to display boards with pins. Six inch nails would have been more appropriate.

Monkeys behave badly. Highly venomous snakes are odious. Remember the snake in Jungle Book? "Trussssst in meeee." Not likely. The notices said not to touch the glass. How come? I really looked forward to visiting the frogarium. Yes, I made it up. It was called a ranarium but frogarium gives you a better idea of what is in there - vivid red frogs the size of your thumbnail, lime green and navy blue frogs a little bigger, bright green tree frogs, yellow frogs, red and yellow frogs. They all look like plastic, until they breathe. Some were in glass cases, most were attached to leaves at varying heights housed in a walk through mini rainforest. As the frogs moved around, frogarium assistants moved little marker stickers to show you where they were. Another sign – "tread carefully" – made us wince.

Its all a bit Disney but in the best possible taste, set in beautiful gardens with trails kilometres long through genuine rainforest with waterfalls running out of the La Paz river. All in all it was a great day, and all done without road signs and a totally inaccurate map.

A boiling steaming sulphurous crater lake is one thing, but what about a live, highly active volcano spewing molten lava all day and all night long? To see this phenomena we headed to La Fortuna further northwest, first following the mountain backbone of Costa Rica and then dropping down to the Caribbean coastal plain. The heat hit us in the face like a brick.

La Fortuna owes its prosperity to a natural disaster that happened in 1978. A river suddenly started to run at 42C, which should have been a warning sign, followed by a major eruption of Volcan Arenal. It had been a sleeping giant up to that point. Since then, Volcan Arenal has never been quiet. A cloud of poisonous gases pours out constantly. Molten lava spills over the crater rim in quantities ranging from just visible to major firework displays. During daytime hours the lava is barely discernible. At night you can clearly see red molten rock tumbling and bouncing down the volcano slopes. Too many people have set off for an afternoon stroll up the volcano and never returned.

The river still runs at 42C, now diverted through resort hotels that provide hot pools and other ridiculously expensive diversions. La Fortuna now offers many ways to set the adrenalin running with white water rafting, canoeing, kayaking, or canopy tours through rainforest. The whole area is great for hiking, cycling etc. We opted for a wetland tour on one of those flat bottomed boat things around the Cano Negra reserve. Our party wasn’t too big, the guide was great, the wildlife prolific. You get sick of the sight of caiman - they were everywhere, from tiny hatchlings to big guys one and a half meters long.

There were howler monkeys, white faced and spider monkeys, strange bright green lizard things with a mohecan spinal ridge, turtles, long-nosed bats that hung from a tree trunk in a pattern designed to resemble a boa constrictor, and prolific birdlife. And then there were stupid cows that had slipped into the river accidentally while trying to have a drink. One had been stuck in the water for three days, another had recently fallen in. A ranch-hand had been trying to drag them out of the river with a rope tied to his saddle. In sympathy, someone decided that if we all jumped ashore and got a hold of the rope and pulled, we might be able to help, so we did. We got both cows out of the water while a third busied itself trying to fall into the water. Poor caiman, denied a good feast.

After all this cloud forest and rain forest and wildlife, we hit on the idea of a bit of R&R. We’d read about the Nicoya peninsular and its magnificent beaches, which is where we ended up, watching pelicans and frigate birds flying by and sipping Pina Coladas. Still kidding. Pelicans and frigate birds don’t drink Pina Colada either.

Our only regret about Costa Rica is not being able to get to Monteverdi, a mountain rainforest habitat that wildlife enthusiasts enthuse about. The road around Lake Arenal is reputed to be rough, and then it gets rougher heading up to Santa Elena, and then really really rough to Monteverdi. We found the lake road perfectly OK, obviously resurfaced after major washouts a couple of years ago. Experienced local guides had said that we would never get our TC anywhere near Monteverdi and that only the most rugged, ie. Land Rovers, could get up there. So we didn’t try. There are an awful lot of short wheelbase Land Rovers in Costa Rica, probably because the unsealed roads are red dirt and turn to red slime in the rainy season. The only dirt road we went down wasn’t exactly crash hot in the dry.

We left the Nicoya coast and headed back inland and picked up the Pan America northwards towards Nicaragua. This northerly area turned quickly into dry, open savannah with fewer trees, perfect for the huge cattle ranches. It is also home to poorer Ticos and it got poorer as we approach the border area. How can we tell – because of the amount of garbage strewn along the roadsides, the best indicator of poverty there is.

We knew this and the next three border crossings were going to be the most difficult of the entire trip. It took over two hours to fight our way through the chaos. We managed the exit from Costa Rica on our own, despite being hounded relentlessly by disreputable looking youths offering to "help" us through. The entry into Nicaragua was too much even for us, despite our extensive experience of border crossings. For the first time, we used one of the many "guides". We would never have sorted it out on our own. He wasn’t cheap but he did save us a car search by narcotics police so he was worth every dollar. All thirty of them.