The Rebirth of the Mangroves

The Estero de Puntarenas Wetland is a protected wildlife area in the district of Pitahaya, where El Establo is located. With a current area of 12,951 acres (the equivalent of 7,340 FIFA-sized soccer fields), 61% of its surface is covered by species such as red mangrove (Rhizophora mangle), white mangrove (Laguncularia racemosa), buttonwood (Conocarpus erectus), and piñuela (Pelliciera rhizophorae), among others.

For 80 years, this ecosystem was exposed to sedimentation, agricultural expansion, pollution and fires, resulting in a historical loss of 2,139 acres, which represents approximately 76% of the original cover in that sector.

During the drafting of the management plan in 2018, the National System of Conservation Areas (SINAC) identified the urgent need to restore the ecosystem and requested assistance from the Tropical Agricultural Research and Higher Education Center and Conservation International.

They opted for hydrological restoration, so 14.7 miles of channels had to be dug to return tidal flow to degraded zones. “In other words, we needed people swinging shovels,” says Jairo Quirós, Marine Program coordinator for Conservation International.

That was how, in 2021 and 2022, a crew of 20 people from El Establo, led by López, cleared a path for water. “In our sector, we went more than 1,312 feet inward with nothing but shovels. Each person was assigned a ten-foot section to work on,” the foreman recalls.

Quirós admits that the experience of working with the community members was enriching, as they contributed valuable techniques and a deep empirical knowledge to control the entry of water during the excavation.

“Many of them work on sugarcane farms as part of the irrigation crews,” Quirós mentions. “They were very good at suggesting how to manage water direction. They worked in sections: they would dig a channel but leave a temporary plug to ensure water wouldn't seep through and block the incoming flow. Once they finished that sector, they would clear the path, allowing that section to fill with water. All of their suggestions were spot on.”

A few months after the work was completed, white mangrove and buttonwood seedlings were already visible. “They would arrive and plant themselves,” Quirós comments. “The mangrove is extremely grateful. You restore the ideal conditions and it immediately recovers.”

Not Everything Is Sweet

On Sunday, May 3, 2026, López returned to the restored sector for the first time in nine months and his walk brought him face to face with a heartbreaking reality. On the grayish ground, the black remnants of an arson fire were still smoking. “It’s a shame to see how people's recklessness sets fire to what cost us so much to recover,” he lamented.

According to data from SINAC, nearly 42% of Costa Rica's wildfires are caused by vandalism and arson, either as revenge against park rangers or to distract them while committing other crimes.

For Quirós, arson fires are an ever-present threat. Like other protected areas, the Estero de Puntarenas Wetland suffers from institutional neglect due to severe staff shortages. "If the site has survived, it is thanks to the dedication of local leaders and the staff at the El Palmar sugar mill," Quirós acknowledges.

Productive activities surrounding the mangrove, such as honey production or educational tourism, are ways to protect the ecosystem. The more it is used sustainably and the greater the community's presence, the less vulnerable it becomes to arson fires.

"There is enormous potential for tourism," Quirós says. "Unlike other mangroves where walking is a struggle because of the mud, access here is extremely easy. We have taken people by boat when the overland route washes out due to heavy rains and we believe that birdwatching is a viable economic alternative for the community."

The other challenge lies within ApiMangle itself. With only 20 hives, current production is limited to a micro-lot (about 440 pounds annually), and transportation to urban centers doubles the final price of the product.

The strategy they have settled on is competing on added value and not on price. To do this, they are seeking alliances in tourist stops in Puntarenas and ecotourism ventures like the Posada Rural Amistad on Chira Island. But time is running out. They must establish the alliances before international funds expire at the end of 2026.

Destination

López steps into the vegetation, heading away from the river. About 160 feet in, he stops to point out one of the ditches. He recognizes it because he was here, working, a few years ago. Now, only mangrove trees are visible.

In El Establo, honey serves as an incentive for conservation and the community cares deeply about the health of the ecosystem that sustains their economic activity. The honey comes from a protected area and that gives the product an added value.

From a biocultural heritage perspective, honey is the witness to a tradition of harvesting and production that is closely linked to the natural environment. Its nutritional and medicinal properties have been known since pre-Columbian times, when the Chorotegas—an Indigenous people who inhabited Costa Rica—traded with it.

In times of climate change, the regulating ecosystem services provided by mangroves become increasingly important, as does their capacity to fix carbon in their mud, roots, trunks and leaves.

López speaks about all of this and then he falls silent, his gaze revealing the swirling swarm of thoughts in his mind. He knows perfectly well what it cost to clear every foot of mud to make space for the tide. He also recognizes that the mangrove rewards that effort with nectar, and the bees do the same with honey. He is aware of the threat that arson fires represent and that worries him. He knows that this is where the path to resilience lies.

After a heavy sigh, he says, “Without the mangrove, we are doomed.”