Ziplining in Costa Rica

Ziplining Over Costa Rican Rainforests: I Screamed, Then Smiled

By Kaitlyn Fraser
A fun, adrenaline-packed account of flying through the jungle.

Booking the Adventure: An Impulse With Altitude

I wasn’t planning to go ziplining. It wasn’t on my itinerary. My plan was to sip coffee in Monteverde, wander cloud forests, and spot sloths in slow motion. But travel has a way of surprising you—of nudging you toward choices you didn’t know you needed.

I overheard a group at my hostel raving about a zipline canopy tour in the heart of Monteverde Cloud Forest. One guy said it was like flying. Another said he almost cried from the thrill. I’m not an adrenaline junkie—not even close—but something in me sparked. Maybe it was the fear. Maybe it was the promise of trees rushing past at 60 kilometers per hour. I signed up before I could talk myself out of it.

That night, I lay awake wondering what the heck I’d gotten myself into.

Gearing Up: Harnesses, Helmets, and Nerves

The next morning, we were picked up in a rickety van that bumped along steep dirt roads. We arrived at the launch point: a small wooden building surrounded by impossibly green jungle. As the guides handed out helmets and gear, I felt my pulse spike. The harness felt foreign—tight, awkward, and mildly terrifying.

Our instructor, Carlos, smiled and said, “Don’t think of it as falling. Think of it as flying with rules.”

Everyone laughed nervously.

We practiced on a low line first. Just a few meters up, gliding between two platforms. It was manageable—until I looked down. My fear wasn’t just of heights; it was of losing control. But Carlos kept his eyes on us the entire time. His calm confidence helped me breathe.

The First Zipline: A Scream and a Revelation

The real ride began moments later. We climbed a wooden staircase to a platform perched high above the canopy. Below, the forest stretched endlessly, a sea of green mist. I was third in line. When it was my turn, I stepped up, legs trembling. Carlos clipped me to the line, double-checked the harness, and whispered, “Trust the line. Look forward.”

I stepped off the edge—and screamed.

The wind roared in my ears, my heart thumped wildly, and the trees blurred beneath me. But halfway through the line, something shifted. The scream turned into laughter. My eyes widened. I felt the speed, the height, the wild joy of letting go. I stopped thinking and just felt.

By the time I landed on the next platform, I was breathless—and smiling like a maniac.

Through the Trees: Flying One Line at a Time

The course had 13 lines total. Some were short and fast; others were long and misty. We zipped over ravines, through clouds, past monkeys howling in the treetops. I felt like a superhero, a bird, a little girl on her first roller coaster.

One of the longest lines was nearly a kilometer long. By then, I had learned to relax into the harness, to tilt my head up and just fly. That line felt like forever. The mist wrapped around me. My legs floated. Time disappeared.

And in the middle of it all, I realized—I hadn’t thought about work, emails, or my to-do list in hours. I was present. Fully, beautifully, fearlessly present.

The Superman and the Tarzan Swing: Going All In

Just when I thought it was over, Carlos said, “Now for the Superman.”

This line had us clipped from the back instead of the front. We flew belly-down, arms outstretched—like Superman. As I launched from the platform, I screamed again. But this time, the fear was laced with exhilaration. I soared like a falcon above the forest.

And then came the Tarzan Swing.

It’s exactly what it sounds like: you step off a ledge and swing like Tarzan on a jungle vine. It was the only moment I hesitated again. But I had come this far. So I closed my eyes, yelled something incoherent, and jumped. The drop was sudden and wild, but the swing? Incredible. I whooped like a kid on a playground.

Back on Solid Ground: Changed by the Air

When we returned to the lodge, I sat on a bench and watched the forest sway. I felt different—not in a big, dramatic way, but in the quiet knowing that I had done something brave. I had faced a fear and found freedom. I had screamed—and then smiled.

Travel isn’t always about going far. Sometimes, it’s about going deeper—into your own limitations, your own willingness to risk joy. Ziplining didn’t just give me adrenaline. It gave me perspective.

Fly Whenever You Can

If you ever find yourself in Monteverde, say yes to the zipline. Say yes to fear. Say yes to flying.

Because some of life’s best moments begin with a scream—and end with a smile.

Have you faced a travel fear that turned into your favorite memory? Share it with us or tag @AffordableJourney using #ScreamedThenSmiled.