I knew Santa Catalina was going to be hot but I didn’t realize it was going to be that hot. The kind where you step outside and instantly start sweating, like the air itself is heavy. I was staying in one of the cheaper hostels, no air con, just a fan pushing around warm air and doing absolutely nothing during the middle of the night. It was basic, a little rough, but that’s kind of the point when you’re traveling on a budget, you take what you get and lean into it.
The biggest challenge every day wasn’t even surfing it was getting to the beach. From my hostel, it was about a 30-minute walk, and under that sun it felt way longer. There’s barely any shade, just a dusty road, heat radiating off the ground, and that constant feeling of being slowly cooked. I’d leave already sweating, board in hand, knowing full well I’d arrive completely drained before even touching the water. By the time I got there, I was already sunburnt, dehydrated, and questioning my decisions.
But then you step into the ocean, and everything resets instantly.
I spent my first two days learning to surf, and it definitely didn’t come easy. The first day was just wipeouts, getting smashed by waves, swallowing saltwater, and wondering how people make it look so effortless. It’s way harder than it looks. But there’s something addictive about it, you keep paddling back out, keep trying, because you know eventually something will click. And on the second day, it finally did. I stood up, found my balance, and actually rode a wave. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t matter. That feeling hits you instantly it’s pure adrenaline and satisfaction all at once. And suddenly, those brutal 30-minute walks in the heat feel completely justified.
After those surf days, I decided to stay longer and focus on getting my open water dive certification. That meant a few more days in Santa Catalina, settling into the rhythm of the place, early mornings, salty skin, constant heat, and that slow, simple lifestyle. Diving around Coiba National Park was on another level. The second you descend, it’s like entering a different world. Everything goes quiet, colors pop, and you’re surrounded by life in every direction.
Huge schools of fish moving together like one organism, flashes of silver and blue, and then the moment that really stays with you sharks.
The first time you see one underwater, your brain kind of pauses. You expect fear, but it’s more like a calm adrenaline. They move so smoothly, so effortlessly, just passing by like you don’t even exist. It’s humbling. You realize very quickly you’re not the main character down there, you’re just visiting. Seeing sharks like that, in the wild, completely changes your perspective.
Despite how intense the days were, the evenings became my favorite part of Santa Catalina. The main surf beach was a mission to get to, but there was another spot, the boat launch beach (can't remember the name, but the one with all the boats that take you out diving etc.), that was much closer to my hostel. Just a short walk, nothing like the long trek I had to do earlier in the day. And every evening, I’d head down there to watch the sunset.
Those sunsets were unreal.
The sky would shift from bright orange to deep pink and purple, reflecting off the water while fishing boats slowly came back in. Locals hanging around, travelers sitting quietly, everyone just kind of taking it in. After a full day of heat, salt, and exhaustion, it felt like a reward. No rush, no noise just the ocean and the sky doing their thing. It became a bit of a ritual, ending each day there, cooling off, watching the light fade.
By the time I finished my dive certification, I felt like I had really earned it. Surfing, diving, surviving the heat, it all built up to that moment. So naturally, the last night turned into a celebration. A few drinks turned into quite a few drinks. It felt deserved good people, good vibes, and that sense of actually accomplishing something.
The next day… not so great.
Leaving Santa Catalina is never simple, it’s a chain of four buses, and doing that with a hangover is something I wouldn’t recommend. Every transfer turned into a survival checkpoint. Step off the bus, find a Gatorade, sit down, try to come back to life, then drag myself onto the next one. Repeat. By the third bus, I was in that strange in-between state—exhausted, slightly delirious, but also laughing at how ridiculous the whole situation was. It’s the kind of travel moment that feels terrible at the time but you know will be funny later.
Eventually, after what felt like a very long, very slow journey, I made it up into the mountains and arrived at Lost and Found Hostel. And the difference was immediate. Cool, fresh air. Mist drifting through the forest. No intense sun beating down on you. After days of that coastal heat and those long walks, it honestly felt unreal like stepping into a completely different world.
Looking back, Santa Catalina pushed me. The 30-minute walks in the heat, the constant sweat, the learning curve with surfing, the intensity of diving, the sharks, the slightly reckless last night it was a lot. But it was also where I grew the most on the trip. Where things felt real, unfiltered, and earned.
And somehow, the sunsets, the struggle, and even that four-bus hangover with Gatorades at every stop… are exactly what made it unforgettable.