After decades spent raising a family, building a career, and being everything to everyone, life went still.
Redundancy. An empty calendar. No one needing me.
One grey Monday morning, two cancelled appointments left me sitting in bed, coffee cooling in my hands, tears sliding down my cheeks. It wasn’t grief for the meetings — it was grief for the sense of purpose that had quietly slipped away.
And then came a quiet thought: What if I stopped waiting to be needed? What if I chose adventure instead?
From Office Blocks to Tree Tops
I didn’t want a cruise. I didn’t want a retreat. I wanted to escape, I wanted wild. That’s when I decided: I would go to the jungle.
Costa Rica — a country of thick rainforests, glistening waterfalls, and extraordinary biodiversity — had always called to me. So, I found an opportunity to volunteer with Global Vision International (GVI) on a biodiversity monitoring project deep in Kekoldi Indigenous Reserve, near the Panama border.
I’d be tracking wildlife, recording data, living in a treehouse, and immersing myself in the rhythms of the rainforest.
At 60, setting out alone into the unknown felt daring — thrilling, even. Most other volunteers would be in their twenties.
I packed my camera, my hiking boots, and boarded the plane with butterflies in my stomach and fire in my chest.
Baptism by Mud
Landing in San José, I was swept into the humid heat of Costa Rica. After an overnight hostel stay, we drove five hours south to the edge of Kekoldi.
There was no grand arrival — just a dusty roadside where we shouldered our backpacks and prepared to hike uphill into the rainforest.
The mud clung thickly to my mandatory wellington boots as we climbed through the dense, humid forest. My 18-kilogram backpack pressed into my shoulders. My heart raced — partly from exertion, partly from sheer excitement.
The jungle was alive. Frogs croaked and peeped. Birds flashed through the trees. The air smelled rich — damp earth, green leaves, unseen flowers.
Our base camp, built by the Bribri people, was rustic and perfect: wooden platforms, open trellis walls, mosquito nets, no glass between you and the forest. A small mirror was hazy from the humidity — only the sights and sounds of the jungle as your companions.
That night, exhausted and exhilarated, I slept to the sound of rain tapping on leaves and the low growl of howler monkeys.
Jungle Rhythms
Each dawn began with the howls of monkeys and the chatter of toucans. Some volunteers groaned at the noise. I smiled, nature’s alarm call. I brushed my teeth at an outdoor sink overlooking the canopy, pulling a scarf over my wild curling hair and stepping into the day without a glance in a mirror. I let go of ‘presentable’ and embraced ‘purposeful.’
After a breakfast of rice and beans, we split into teams to conduct bird surveys, check camera traps, or identify HERPS (frogs and reptiles).
We hiked deep into the rainforest, learning the language of the trees and the creatures that called them home. Life was sweaty, muddy, exhilarating — a complete unburdening of the routines and rules that had quietly anchored my city life.
Jungle Life Isn’t Always Glamorous
Adventure wasn’t always pretty.
The first night hike tested me: boots sucked into the mud, my headlamp swarmed by enormous insects, the darkness pressing close.
Owl butterflies — with 20 cm wingspans — dive-bombed my head, their dusty wings brushing my face. Glistening eyes of jumping spiders — reflecting red in the torchlight — watched my every step.
I was disoriented by the darkness but I stayed upright. I kept going. And with every step, I felt my strength growing.
Waterfall Hike
And then there was the waterfall hike.
We trekked down 100 meters through thick jungle to a spectacular waterfall — a roaring silver ribbon cutting through emerald green forest and granite rock formations.
The descent was exhilarating. The return climb? Brutal.
Halfway up, my legs gave out. Tears came — tears of frustration, embarrassment, exhaustion. I hated the idea of slowing the team down.
But the others, more than half my age — rallied. They sang ‘The Bare Necessities’ from The Jungle Book as the leader took my hand and helped me climb.
I wasn’t failing. I was belonging.
Rediscovering My Strength
By the time I returned home, I was transformed — physically and mentally. I trekked daily in dense rainforest, laden with binoculars, SLR camera, a 1.5 lt camel bladder, and 6 kg of other ‘just in case’ items. I had crossed rivers, climbed hills, and stumbled through mud.
Upon my return, I weighed myself on my bathroom scales while wearing both backpacks — I was carrying 23 kilograms, nearly half my body weight!
I had traveled 5,000 miles on my own — by trains, planes, and jungle paths — and I loved every moment.
My skin glowed. My mind cleared. My 60-year-old body felt strong, powerful, capable.
I realized: I hadn’t just gone to the jungle. I found myself there.
Lessons from the Land
The rainforest stripped everything back to what mattered most:
Connection. Simplicity. Presence.
I came home craving less: fewer possessions, less noise, less screen time.
I wanted adventure, fresh air, freedom. More walking barefoot. More rain on my skin. More moments spent listening to birdsong instead of answering emails.
The jungle taught me that adventure isn’t out of reach. It’s waiting — beyond the comfort zone.
Why It’s Never Too Late to Volunteer Abroad
To every woman who thinks she’s too old, too tired, too invisible:
You are none of those things.
You are brave.
You are ready.
You are powerful beyond your imagination.
So, book the ticket. Pack the boots. Trust your courage.
Adventure — and magic — is waiting for you.
Author Bio: After raising a family and spending 40 years in corporate life, Nicola Bickers decided it was time for a new kind of adventure. Armed with a camera and a spirit of curiosity, she set off for Costa Rica to volunteer on a conservation project. Nicola is an enthusiastic photographer, explorer, and storyteller, inspiring others to step outside their comfort zones no matter what their age.
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