Mount Costa blends forest therapy with main-character energy
BAGUIO CITY — There is something humbling about realizing tourists have explored more of your hometown than you have.
As someone from La Trinidad who had visited Mount Costa years ago, long before the pandemic rewired all our brains and social batteries, returning to the sprawling garden sanctuary hidden in the mountains of Benguet felt strangely emotional. Familiar, yet transformed. Quiet, yet alive in new ways.
And somehow, the entire place radiates forest therapy with main-character energy.
Not in the curated influencer sense. More like the kind of place where your screen time suddenly drops because your body remembers what silence feels like.
Located along Pico-Lamtang Road in La Trinidad, Benguet, Mount Costa, short for Mountain Conservation in Sustainable Tourism, has grown into one of the Cordillera’s most ambitious eco-tourism spaces.
Dubbed the region’s “Green Living Room,” the six-hectare property blends forest landscapes, art, conservation, and Cordilleran terrain into a massive walkable sanctuary far removed from the noise of nearby Baguio City.
Perhaps what makes it more compelling now is that some of its most memorable spaces were created during the pandemic.
A garden that refused to stay frozen in time
The roots of Mount Costa trace back to the Acosta family’s strawberry farming history.
According to the family’s historical marker inside the property, the late Colonel Voltaire Acosta and his wife Cleotilde were among the pioneers of strawberry wine and preserves in Baguio during the late 1970s. When a virus devastated strawberry crops in the 1990s, the family eventually stopped farming strawberries on the land.
Years later, the property evolved into something entirely different.
Instead of abandoning the mountainside, the Acostas transformed it into a living landscape of themed gardens, forest trails, installations, and ecological spaces designed around the natural terrain itself.
Third-generation family member Verona Acosta, who guided the visit, shared how the gardens continued to evolve even during the uncertainty of the pandemic years.
That evolution can be seen in one of Mount Costa’s most quietly haunting creations: the Enchantress.
Hidden within the forest landscape, the giant reclining female figure appears almost camouflaged against the mountainside. Formed from sand, stone, and cement during the pandemic period, the sculpture was intentionally designed to become part of nature itself. Instead of artificial hair, foliage and creeping plants were allowed to grow naturally around her head and body over time.
She does not dominate the landscape. She disappears into it. And maybe that is what makes her unforgettable.
There is something deeply Cordilleran in allowing nature to finish the artwork.
Twenty-four gardens, endless detours
Mount Costa houses 24 themed pocket gardens connected by around 5.5 kilometers of walking trails divided into color-coded routes.
The Blue Trail leans toward installations, structures, and interactive artistic spaces. The Yellow Trail highlights flowers, plant collections, and botanical arrangements that change with the seasons.
But labels barely capture the experience.
One minute you are walking through geometric floral grids that look lifted from a fantasy game map. The next, you stumble into Zen-inspired meditation spaces, koi ponds, mirror-lined walkways, wire sculptures frozen mid-conversation, or hidden forest corners that feel accidentally cinematic.
Some gardens are playful. Others feel therapeutic.
And for younger visitors used to overstimulation, Mount Costa’s greatest flex may actually be its refusal to rush people.
You wander instead of consume. You pause instead of scroll.
Even the installations feel reflective rather than performative. Signs across the park talk about growth, landscapes, seedlings, and infinity with an almost poetic sincerity that somehow works in the middle of the forest.
Corny? Slightly. Effective? Absolutely.
Slow tourism in the age of burnout
Across the Cordilleras, tourism has always walked a delicate line between economic opportunity and environmental pressure.
Places become overcrowded. Quiet towns become content backdrops. Nature becomes aesthetic before it is treated as ecological.”
Mount Costa feels like an attempt to resist that.
Rather than functioning like a conventional tourist park packed with loud attractions, it leans into slow tourism, encouraging visitors to sit, walk, observe, and breathe.
That feels especially relevant after the pandemic years, when green spaces became emotional lifelines for many Filipinos dealing with isolation, anxiety, burnout, and digital exhaustion.
And maybe that explains why Mount Costa resonates now in ways it did not before.
The place does not beg for your attention. It simply waits for you to notice it.
What visitors should know
Mount Costa is located in La Trinidad, Benguet, around 30 minutes from Baguio City depending on traffic and weather conditions.
The eco-park is open daily from 7 am to 5 pm, including holidays.
Current entrance packages range from around P300 to ₱P50, with some bundled options including snacks or lunch. Benguet residents may avail of discounted rates upon presenting valid identification. Advance bookings through Mount Costa’s official Facebook page may also offer lower rates.
Visitors are advised to wear comfortable non-slip footwear because trails involve uphill walks, uneven gravel paths, and slippery sections during foggy or rainy weather. Light jackets and insect repellant are also highly recommended.
The best months to visit are generally from November to May during the dry season, when blooms are more vibrant and the trails easier to navigate.
The forest still knows how to heal
Maybe what makes Mount Costa linger long after the visit is that it does not feel obsessed with spectacle.
It feels patient.
The gardens do not compete with the forest. The sculptures sink into the earth. Even the Enchantress eventually surrendered her hair to leaves and vines.
In a time when everything online fights to be seen, Mount Costa feels comfortable simply existing.
Quietly.
And somewhere between the fog, the pine trees, the winding trails, and that giant sleeping woman slowly reclaimed by foliage, you remember something the mountains have always known:
Healing does not always arrive loudly. – Rappler.com
المصدر: Rappler (PH)
