Meet the man quietly cleaning the road between Malpaís and La Lora
Some people talk about loving a place. Others show it—step by step, bag by bag.
For the last 6 years, part-time Malpaís resident Bill Dolhancey has been doing exactly that.
Born in Pennsylvania in the United States, Bill has spent much of his life chasing the rhythm of the seasons and the ocean. For years he worked in Alaska alongside a close friend in the fishing industry. With a captain’s license in hand, he eventually built a career guiding fishing trips, spending nine seasons working those waters. Today he still captains a fishing tour boat in Florida for part of the year.
For a long time his life followed a simple pattern: cold half of the year, hot half of the year. Alaska’s rugged waters on one end, Florida’s warm tourist fishing scene on the other. Two worlds. Two climates. One life built around the sea.
Then Costa Rica entered the story.
About 6 years ago, Bill first came down to help a friend with a building project. What started as a simple visit slowly turned into something deeper. The surf, the people, the laid-back rhythm of life between Malpaís and Santa Teresa began to pull him back year after year.
Eventually the balance of his life shifted. Instead of Alaska seasons, he began spending five to six months each year in Costa Rica, splitting the rest of his time between Florida and Pennsylvania.
And somewhere along those dusty roads between Malpaís and La Lora, another routine quietly took shape.
A Simple Walk That Became a Mission
“When you walk,” Bill says, “you notice more of your surroundings.”
It sounds obvious. But anyone who has traded a steering wheel for a pair of sandals knows the truth of it.
When you slow down to walking speed, the details jump out. Birds in the trees. A wave breaking down the beach path. The smell of salt in the air.
And, unfortunately… trash.
Beer cans in the grass. Plastic bottles near the roadside. Chip bags tangled in the vegetation.
The more Bill walked, the more obvious it became.
“If I was going to walk these roads every day,” he explains, “it made me feel responsible to give back a few hours picking up garbage.”
What started as a simple idea became a daily ritual.
It gave him something positive to do with his time.
It kept him active between surf sessions.
And it helped keep the community he loves a little cleaner.
The Routine of a Surfing Caretaker
Bill’s days in Malpaís follow a rhythm that most surfers would envy.
Wake up.
Surf.
Trash walk.
Clean up and eat.
Help friends with whatever they need.
Sunset surf.
Dinner.
Sleep.
Repeat.
Somewhere between 9 and 11 in the morning, Bill heads out for what he calls his “trash walk.”
Starting in Malpaís near the surf camp where he stays, he walks north along the road toward La Lora. The route covers roughly two miles each way, passing through one of the busiest stretches of businesses, pedestrians, and traffic in the area.
Four miles total.
On average that walk racks up about 18,000 steps a day, sometimes climbing past 20,000. Add in two surf sessions and Bill laughs that he’s more than happy with the exercise he gets.
But the real workout isn’t the walking.
It’s the picking up.
154 Bags… and Counting
This season alone, Bill has already collected 154 bags of trash, and he still has about a month left before returning north.
That number continues a pattern that has repeated every year since he started the habit.
“Over 100 bags every season,” he says.
The trash itself tells a story about how people move through the town.
Bill focuses on materials that will stick around the longest: plastics, aluminum cans, bottles, and food packaging.
Paper and tissue he usually leaves behind.
“They’re biodegradable and usually already breaking down,” he explains.
The real problem is plastic.
And beer cans.
“Beer cans are the number one thing I pick up,” he says with a laugh that carries a hint of disbelief. “It’s ridiculous the amount.”
Even on the same walk.
Bill might clear the roadside on the way north toward La Lora, then begin the return trip south… only to find another fresh beer can tossed into the grass within the same 45-minute window.
“I never actually see people drop the garbage,” he says. “But there it is.”
The Strange Things You Find on the Road
After thousands of miles of walking and picking up trash, Bill has become something of an expert in roadside discoveries.
This season alone he has found three credit cards, all of which he managed to return to their owners.
Coins show up often too.
Over five months, he estimates he collects about $50 in loose change that people have dropped along the road.
But some of the strangest finds are harder to explain.
“Hair ties… lots of chip bags… plastic bottles,” he says.
“And this year… socks.”
Lots of socks.
“Always just one,” he laughs. “Makes you wonder where the other one went. And honestly… who wears socks in a beach town?”
Good question.
A Tool That Makes It Possible
One small invention makes Bill’s daily cleanup possible.
The trash grabber.
It’s a lightweight pole with a small trigger handle that controls a gripping claw at the end—an extension of the hand that allows trash to be picked up without bending over.
“That’s the biggest benefit,” Bill says. “No bending over. That’s why I can do this every day.”
Each year when he travels back to Costa Rica, he packs several of these grabbers in his luggage.
Before he leaves at the end of the season, he gives them away.
Often he posts on Instagram announcing that he has extras available, offering them to local businesses or residents who might want to start their own cleanup routine.
Small tools.
Big impact.
Walking Through a Community
Bill’s route focuses mainly on the road rather than the beach.
Occasionally he’ll walk down popular beach access paths where garbage tends to accumulate, but the street itself is where most of the problem lies.
And where the most people see him.
Sometimes other people join him on the walk, though most days he goes alone.
But he’s far from unnoticed.
Back in 2020, people began recognizing him after someone posted about his cleanup routine on social media. Since then, locals have frequently stopped to thank him.
Restaurant owners sometimes offer him a cold drink as he passes by.
The staff at Super Ronny’s often wave him down with a refreshment when he’s working nearby.
Surfers occasionally hand him a pipa, the chilled coconut water that might be the most refreshing reward after a hot walk under the tropical sun.
The gestures are small, but they mean a lot.
“I appreciate that very much,” Bill says.
Inspired by Grandma Dorothy
When asked where this sense of responsibility comes from, Bill doesn’t hesitate.
“My grandma,” he says.
Grandma Dorothy.
She was a big influence in his life, instilling many of the values he carries today.
“She loved baking, music, parties… bird watching, wildlife… everything about nature.”
More importantly, she taught him to slow down and notice things.
To look around.
To appreciate what’s right in front of you.
That influence still shows up in unexpected moments.
“Sometimes when I smell chocolate chip cookies,” Bill says with a smile, “I still think of her.”
Living Out of a Backpack
For the past 15 to 20 years, Bill has lived a life that many dream about but few actually choose.
He travels light.
Often literally out of a backpack.
Moving between beautiful places around the world, working seasonally, surfing when he can, and exploring the communities where he temporarily calls home.
But wherever he goes, one habit remains.
He picks up trash.
Florida. Pennsylvania. Costa Rica.
Anywhere he walks.
Costa Rica just happens to be the place where he has the time to fully dedicate himself to it.
“Here I’m not working,” he explains. “I’m on vacation. So I dedicate part of my day to picking up trash.”
And in a place he calls paradise, it gives his days a deeper sense of purpose.
Being Part of the Solution
Along the roads of Santa Teresa and Malpaís, garbage collection boxes installed around town often overflow with loose bottles, cans, and plastic packaging scattered nearby. These public bins have been organized through local community efforts involving groups such as the Nicoya Peninsula Waterkeeper, neighborhood associations like the Asociación de Desarrollo Integral de Santa Teresa, and other volunteer initiatives that work to improve waste management in the area.
Still, the problem often comes down to individual choices.
And that’s where Bill’s philosophy is simple.
He once heard a quote that stuck with him.
“You can point to the ground and say someone should dig a hole,” he recalls. “Or you can pick up a shovel and dig it yourself.”
For Bill, the trash grabber is the shovel.
He could complain about litter.
Or he could do something about it.
So he does.
Leaving a Place Better Than You Found It
Bill doesn’t expect everyone to walk four miles a day picking up garbage.
But he hopes people notice.
He hopes it sparks something.
Maybe someone decides not to toss a beer can out of habit.
Maybe someone else starts carrying a small bag on their daily walk.
Maybe someone finds their own way to care for the community they spend time in.
“I hope I can influence others,” he says, “especially people who come here for half the year like I do.”
His philosophy is simple.
If you spend time enjoying a place, leave it a little better than when you arrived.
For Bill, that means surfing the waves, walking the road, and filling another bag of trash before lunch.
Five months a year.
Year after year.
Just one guy.
One grabber.
And a quiet reminder that caring for paradise doesn’t require a big plan.
Sometimes it just starts with a walk.
