Camping & Exploration

Dome tents, family tents and hammocks:

answer the question of where you sleep in three different ways. A dome tent for two or three stands on its own poles, so it goes up on sand or a wooden platform, and it is light enough to carry from the car to a beach campsite. Family tents with tall walls and a separate room give headroom for a week of holidays but want flat ground and a car. Plenty of people on the coast skip the tent and sleep in a hammock with a built-in mosquito net, hung from tree straps under a stretched tarp. An entry-level dome tent for three from a brand like Coleman is around ₡70,000 to ₡90,000 new, and a six-person family tent from the same makers is nearer ₡240,000. The family tents are the ones worth hunting second-hand: most are pitched once a year and spend the rest of it in a cupboard, and because the waterproof coating ages whether the tent is used or not, a used one is judged by how it was stored, not by how many nights it has done.

A rainfly that reaches the ground:

matters more than the number of people on the box. Across much of the country the rain arrives in the afternoon and carries on after dark, so look for a fly that comes down on every side, taped seams, and a floor that curves up at the edges like a bathtub. A fly rated around 3,000 mm of water column holds through a proper storm; cheap tents often leave the figure off. Capacity on the label is generous: a three-person tent sleeps two adults and their packs.

Sleeping bags, from Chirripó to the Nicoya coast:

cover a wider range than buyers expect. A night at the Crestones refuge below Chirripó’s summit can drop below freezing, and hikers pack a bag rated for it; on the coast the same bag is unbearable and a cotton liner is plenty. Read the comfort temperature on the label, not the lower limit many budget bags print large. Down packs smaller, but once wet it stops keeping you warm, which makes synthetic fill the safer choice in the rain.

Camp stoves and trekking packs:

are where compatibility catches people out. Small backpacking burners take screw-on canisters, two-burner camp stoves run on the green propane bottles and tabletop cookers on slim butane cans, so check what a used stove needs before you pay. A trekking pack is sized by torso length, not height; try it on loaded. Campers who paddle in carry dry bags and often a boat from kayaking, and many pack a rod that belongs with fishing.

A used tent fails at the coating, the poles and the zips:

and all three only show once it is standing, so ask to see it pitched. Rub the inside of the fly and the floor: a coating that feels sticky or smells of vinegar is breaking down and will leak however clean the tent looks. Run every zip end to end, check the pole sections for cracks near the joints, and hold the floor to the light for pinholes. Pull a sleeping bag from its sack and watch how fast it lofts; one that stays flat and lumpy has spent years compressed. Brand-name packs, The North Face above all, are widely copied, and loose stitching, unbranded zip pullers and a price that seems too kind give them away.

Your tent, pitched in the yard before you list it:

sells itself in one photo. Put it up with the fly on, then add close-ups of the floor and the zips. Count the poles and pegs, give the capacity on the label, and mention any patch or splinted pole. For a sleeping bag, photograph the temperature label and say whether it is down or synthetic. Someone coming over from Pérez Zeledón for a cold-weather bag will want to pull it out and watch it rise, so leave it hanging loose for a day before they arrive, not crushed in its sack.