I write from Bahía Drake, on the Osa Peninsula of Costa Rica — a place National Geographic called the most biologically intense on Earth, three hours from the nearest hospital.
People ask why I’d build companies here instead of a city. That distance is the point.
I’ve worked this territory for fifteen years: naturalist guide, wilderness first responder, vertical rescue specialist. I built Sukia Travel from zero — an expedition company that takes serious people into Corcovado — and I’m building Sukia Kin, a sanctuary at the edge of the rainforest for people who want something more than a vacation and less than a religion.
Along the way I’ve watched hundreds of people meet the jungle. Some come back changed. Most come back rested. The difference between the two has almost nothing to do with how hard the trail was — and almost everything to do with whether the pressure got interpreted, honestly, before life smoothed it back over. That observation is the reason this site exists.
I’m not a coach. I don’t sell certainty, and I distrust anyone who does. I read Jung and Sapolsky, I run rescues at 2am, and I write field notes about what holds up under both.
After a decade of building things I thought I was supposed to want, I wrote a personal code in the jungle. It opens this site because it’s the most honest thing I own.
It took me a decade to be able to write those six lines. This site is where I document what they cost — and what they return.
If that’s useful to you, the work lives in the newsletter. One letter, most Sundays.
Read Field Notes