What It's Really Like to Patrol a Beach for Nesting Sea Turtles

When new volunteers arrive at a sea turtle conservation camp, there’s usually one thing on everyone’s mind: seeing a turtle nest. That moment — standing under the stars, watching an ancient reptile haul herself out of the waves to lay the next generation — is what draws people to places like the Osa Peninsula. And rightly so. It’s magical.

But here’s the thing: nature doesn’t run on our expectations.

Over the time I spent volunteering at Río Oro with COPROT, I saw the same arc repeat itself. Wide-eyed excitement on arrival. Questions about how soon we might see a turtle. And slowly, the dawning realisation that the job — the real, on-the-ground work — is more demanding, unpredictable, and often more powerful than people anticipate.

Let’s talk about what it’s actually like to patrol a beach for nesting sea turtles.

The Waiting Game

Patrols run every night, regardless of mood or weather — unless there’s lightning above us. Otherwise, we walk. In the dry season, that might mean a cool breeze and clear skies. In the rainy season, you’ll be soaked within minutes. Either way, the shift goes on.

At Río Oro, we split night patrols into two shifts: 8pm to midnight, and midnight to 4am. And then there’s a morning patrol at 5am too. Each one is roughly four hours — though that can stretch much longer if you’re lucky enough to find a nesting turtle. Or unlucky enough to reach the far end of the beach only to find a false crawl.

What surprises a lot of new volunteers is how often you don’t see anything. You can walk 10km in a night, in the rain, in silence, and not find a single track. That’s just how it is. Nature doesn’t deliver on a schedule, and even during peak nesting season, there are quiet nights.

But we don’t go out only for the moments of awe — we go out because every shift matters. If we’re not there, no one is. A nest could go unrecorded. A turtle might be disturbed. Eggs could be poached. We go because the work matters — not just the results.

The Unexpected Rewards

Of course, when you do find something, everything changes.

There’s a moment when someone ahead spots a track in the sand. The torch goes red. Voices drop. And suddenly, every complaint, every ache, every moment of “I just want to go back” disappears.

Finding a turtle nesting is a rush like no other. It’s humbling. You’re in the presence of something ancient and raw — a creature that’s returned to this exact stretch of coastline, just as her ancestors have done for millions of years. Watching her dig, lay, and cover her eggs in complete silence is unforgettable.

And then, just like that, she disappears back into the waves.

Those are the nights we remember. But even on the quiet ones, there are moments that stick with you.

One night, we didn’t see a single turtle — but spent four straight hours playing “What if…?” as we walked. Hypothetical after hypothetical. We laughed so hard we forgot how tired we were. And those shifts — the long, turtle-less ones — often become the best bonding moments in camp. You learn people’s stories. You share jokes and dreams. You walk under stars brighter than any you’ve seen before.

And somewhere along the way, you realise that this is the work. It’s not always glamorous. But it’s honest, it’s physical, and it’s necessary.

The Lessons of the Sand

Beach patrols teach you patience. They teach you to show up, regardless of the outcome. They teach you that protecting wildlife isn’t about ticking boxes or getting selfies — it’s about being present, night after night, even when you’re tired, sore, or soaked through.

You’ll get blisters. You’ll curse sand in your socks. You’ll complain when the last kilometre feels like the longest walk of your life. But then you’ll see a turtle — and it’s like someone hits the reset button. The adrenaline kicks in. Everyone wakes up. And you’re reminded, in that moment, exactly why you’re there.

No one ever regrets going on patrol. But many regret skipping one.

So, What’s It Really Like?

It’s exhausting. It’s unpredictable. It’s full of sand, sweat, and sometimes disappointment.

But it’s also one of the most rewarding experiences you’ll ever have.

You come expecting to see turtles. But what you get is a deeper understanding of what it takes to protect them — and the incredible effort these animals go through just to nest.

It’s a chance to connect. With the turtles. With your fellow volunteers. With the rhythm of the natural world.

And when that moment finally comes — when a shadow in the distance becomes a turtle hauling her way up the beach — there’s nothing like it.

No photo, no video, no blog post can quite capture that.

But it’s why we walk.