Parismina... a place that had truly stepped off the radar from the western world. A place where children played in the sandy puddles of the road; horses grazed on the football pitch and the barber cut his neighbours hair on the doorstep. It might have only been around 27 degrees but the humidity hovered at 71% and so every time you stepped outside one of their cool, wooden houses you would immediately be met by a clammy hand of heat on your shoulder. It was no wonder that time drifted by at the pace of the local Leatherback turtles.

Being early March, I had hit this remote little Carribean village at the start of nesting season in the hope of catching a glimpse of the magical pilgrimage. Through ASTOP -a not-for-profit, grass roots association -I was to be joining the band of local guides and visiting volunteers to patrol the beaches at night in search of the nesting Leatherbacks.

Every 2-3 years the females return to the beaches near their hatching to lay up to nine clutches (each averaging 110 eggs) per season. Up until 1999 it was perfectly common - and very much legal - for sea turtles to be hunted for their eggs in Costa Rica; they were said to be a delicacy and supposedly have the power to increase libido. However this practice has now been illegal for 19 years and although old traditions are hard to brake the work of conservation bodies such as ASTOP are helping to spread the word and reduce the number of poachings every year. In Parismina alone sea turtle poaching has dropped from 98% to only 38% since 2001 when ASTOP was formed.

My first patrol rolled around as darkness settled over the peaceful village; for the next 4 hours we would be walking the miles of black sand in search of our planet's largest turtle. But the beach lay empty. Large palm trunks and fallen coconuts littered the glistening sand; bioluminescence twinkled beneath our feet and luminous, white waves crashed apon the shore to chase us up to where fireflies danced in the trees. Sometimes, even the moon poked his head out from behind a cloud. But not a turtle in sight. Not even a track. One foot in front of the other we kept going, each step sinking a little deeper into the wet sand. My legs were weary and it was begining to get very difficult to see where you were going. "One lagoon... Two lagoons..." Slowly we counted off the markers along the beach until at last we reached the estuary.
" We'll stop here for 10 minutes," Raquel -a conservation worker who was helping with a research project on the turtles- informed me.
"Thank goodness!" My body cried out, weary after a long day traveling. I lay back against a log, buried my feet in the sand and closed my eyes... "Just for afew minutes..."

"Kirsty! Kirsty! We're heading back now." I prized open my eyes to see...nothing. And then slowly, slowly the dark silhouettes of the other volunteers began to appear out of the night. I lept to my feet- mortally embarrassed! My first night and I had fallen asleep on the job!

We saw no turtles that night. Or the one after. Every night for 7 days we patrolled those beaches; there were sticky nights, mosquito bitten nights, moonless nights and then there were the rainy nights -and by rainy I mean torrential downpour. Sometimes it was so wet and so hot that all I wore under my flimsy jacket was a bright, pink bikini. But still no turtles...
"Mirar! Look!" Carlos our guide suddenly called out running up the beach. We followed haste to find a scuffed out sandy track leading from the waters edge upwards -turtle tracks. They ended at a slight dip in the sand above the high tide line. Carlos's face fell as he spied a long pole beside the indent.
"Los cazadores furtivos." Poachers. He went on to explain that poachers used these sticks to search for the exact whereabouts of the nest: poking around in the sand they could feel for the nest by the sudden sinking of the stick. The first leatherback of the season and his eggs had already been poached.

Of the three types of sea turtle nesting on the parismina stretch of coastline, two are considered critically endangered: the Leatherback and the Hawksbill. The third -the Green turtle- although not critical, is still considered endangered. ASTOP works right through until the end of September patrolling and relocating the eggs for closer monitoring in their hatcheries - it may not be an easy job; but to see the tiny, fragile hatchlings shuffle down towards the sea must be one of the most enchanting experiences on earth.