August 31, 2004: Just as the daily downpours of Costa Rica’s rainy season wane, Neil and I head to the Caribbean coast. The Talamanca Mountain Range cuts Costa Rica geographically from north to south and separates the Caribbean coastal regions from the majority of the country. Culturally in this region, most of the population has Jamaican rather than Spanish heritage. The weather patterns here are also different—here the rainy season is just beginning.

Neil and I arrive in the small coastal village of Manzinillo, on a sunny day as luck would have it. The transparent ocean is calm and refreshing blues and greens laced with white waves. It’s hard to believe we’ve come to this place to farm. We ask at the local grocery store for Baco—a fisherman who loads us up in his boat. We buzz across the sea, Baco weaving expertly around coral reefs, and slowly motor into shore on a secluded sandy beach lined by forest and palms. Only a small wooden ramp and a tiny hand-painted sign let us know we’ve arrived.

Punta Mona, or Monkey Point, in English, is a peninsula that juts off Costa Rica’s southeastern edge, about an hour’s drive north of the Panama border. A sustainable living and education center bearing the same name nestles into the tip of the point.

Up the ramp and through an arch of wild vines, we’re greeted by a couple of large, airy, thatch-roofed constructions. Built from locally sourced materials, these buildings house volunteers and more long-term community members of the Punta Mona Center, and provide living, cooking, and dining space.

The thatched roof structures that house Punta Mona's year-round supply of volunteers are made locally sourced materials.

Beyond these first two buildings, the 85-acre property opens into gardens, a greenhouse, and more dwelling spaces. Paths weave through fruit trees (many labeled with brightly painted signs) and vegetable beds. The trails cross irrigation ditches, and one eventually winds through rainforest to more open fields. The quantity of growth, both cultivated and natural, is extensive. In the beginning, it’s easy to get lost. But within a couple of days, we know our way through the property and forest.

The lifestyle on Punta Mona also takes some getting used to. We drink rainwater from the roof (it is the rainy season), wash clothes by hand, and eat huge communal meals. Neil and I sit in on several community meetings during our week-long stay. Some aspects of the farm are new, but not hard to adjust to: We take swim breaks in the ocean after work, ‘cooling down’ in the warm Caribbean Ocean. We hike along the point on the beach and wade into the river that empties into the ocean from the property. We take walks through the farm to find a mid-day snack.

The founder of the Punta Mona Center, Stephen Brooks, has a penchant for fruit trees; more than 120 varieties are planted on the property. On work mornings, we break from pushing back weeds with machetes and sample several fruits, savoring their exotic names, shapes, and tastes. One of the favorite fruits now ripe on the farm is the biriba, of the Anona family. It looks similar to a large artichoke—spiky and rounded—and when it’s mature, its green skin takes on a yellowish tinge. Inside, the flesh is white and has the texture and taste of custard.

The biriba, a soft-yellow fruit with spiky exterior and sweet white interior, is rarely found outside of its native region as the fruit blackens and spoils rather quickly. The biriba is just one of more than 120 fruit varieties planted on the farm.

The farm community provides its own fruits and many vegetables as one aspect of self-sufficient sustainability. While we are at the farm, the number of volunteers—short- and long-term—stays steadily at around 15 people. This means a lot of salad for dinner. I pick a hefty amount of Malabar spinach, which vines up trellises throughout the gardens. Its dark green leaves are broad and provide a substantial amount of salad fodder with minimum picking. This spinach loves heat. Neil and I take note—perhaps this prolific variety could supplement our spring and fall crops in the states. We fill the salad bowl with asin-asin, a common Costa Rican bushy plant that has small, oval, vitamin-rich leaves. Asin-asin is a farm-meal staple, as it’s easy to grow, nutritious, and tasty. Yuca (or manioc), coconuts and bananas also grow prolifically and appear on our plates often.

The Punta Mona community has strong incentive to provide much of its own food, as supplies must be brought in by boat. An old government road leads through swamp from Manzinillo to the point, but it’s impassible other than on foot.

In the mid-1800s, Punta Mona was a small fishing village settled by Jamaicans. By the 1970s, however, with the construction of the government road, the village moved to Manzanillo. The coast was deserted, except for one stubborn lone fisherman, Blas Martinez, whom everyone called “Padi.” Padi, in his 70s, continues to live on the coast—his home and property merge with the Punta Mona Center. He is a reminder of the site’s history, a unique tie to stories and advice from times past.

In 1995, Stephen Brooks came from the United States searching for an appropriate site to hold classes for North American high school students. Stephen had connected with Costa Rica’s ecological beauty on a previous visit, and this time he found Punta Mona and Padi, who took Stephen under his wing.

In 1997, Stephen purchased land adjacent to Padi’s in order to develop a sustainable living center and organic farm. In 1999, several buildings were constructed on site, fashioned from local fallen trees and thatch. Solar panels provide the farm’s electricity, and one burner on the gas stove functions on methane piped from the composting toilets. Through Stephen’s project, more than 2,000 U.S. students have connected with sustainable agriculture and living skills in Costa Rica. The Punta Mona Center also works with Costa Rican school groups, teaching the next generation skills for living off the land.

When Neil and I visit, Stephen is in the midst of a biodiesel tour from California south through Central America and others are running the center. Alexandra, a peppy Costa Rican woman who has lived at Punta Mona for eight years, is the main administrator. José, a Panamanian, organizes farm work. He’s in his early 20s, has a halo of beach-weathered hair and a quick laugh, and admits that he’s feeling overwhelmed. Many volunteers speak only English, and often he can’t communicate his extensive botanical and tropical farming knowledge with his limited English vocabulary. Manuel, a shy middle-aged Nicaraguan, works full-time in the fields and speaks only Spanish.

For more consistent farm management, Alexandra dreams of hiring a Tico (Costa Rican) farm manager—someone who would organize full-time and bring more focused traditional Costa Rican farming skills to the learning center. The gardens are extensive and promising, but it’s evident that much organization will be needed to keep the planted areas healthy and in production.

Beyond the housing and living areas is a thick jungle forest, complete with leaf-cutter ants marching in quick file and white-faced monkeys swinging above our heads. Throughout the landscape stand stately trees thick enough to remind me of California’s sequoias, their massive roots winding over the earth.

Peppers, sweet potatoes, beans, squash, herbs and flowers fill a 2-acre clearing in the Costa Rican rainforest.

The trail through this primary rainforest leads to a 2-acre milpa, a cleared area filled with crops. Sweet potatoes, beans, squashes, herbs, flowers, and peppers grow all around in small, interspersed plots. We pick shiny red peppers, occasionally biting off a tip to check for spiciness, and toss them in a feed bag for dinner. Much is planted, but there’s room for more: I wish I had more time to dig in here.

Many volunteers have budgeted months of time to spend at Punta Mona. With extended time commitment, the cost of living at the center decreases. Some work for months at a stretch, form bonds with the community of volunteers and long-term workers, and end up returning. The option also exists for interested people to join the community permanently.

The Punta Mona Center brims with possibility, offering a beautiful space for self-motivated farmers to spend time experimenting with tropical agriculture. On its way to self-sustainability, the Center is powered by enthusiastic and determined folks who love the farm.

You’re invited to get involved. Check out the website at www.puntamona.org, to find contact information.

Susanna Meyer is a freelance writer and urban farmer in Pittsburgh, PA.