Volcano Climbing in Nicaragua (Or The Most Complete Account Of Our Journey Ever Produced)
Day 1: Arriving in Managua
We left Atlanta around 2:30pm on Friday the 13th and arrived in Managua after sundown. The airport is relatively small and customs is simple so we breezed right through and out into the reception area where Mike Elmer, our host for the first and last nights of the trip, was easily picked out of the crowd. He's a tall guy, 6' 9" tall. As you may guess, there are not very many 7-foot gringos in Managua. We hopped in his hilux (which I MUST HAVE!) and drove through the craziest traffic menagerie I have ever seen to arrive at the condo he shares with his sweet wife Esther and their newborn son Isaac (only a few weeks old!). They were very gracious hosts and had a very nice place with gardens and a pool. It so happened they were going to Granada the next day, as were we, so they offered us a ride for the 45-minute trip south. The next morning we threw our gear in the back of the hilux, put Isaac in the baby seat and set off, with the Elmers pointing out features along the way and telling us of places to visit and things to see.
Day 2: Granada
We arrived in traffic in Granada. After some time, we said goodbye to the Elmers, leaving them at their hotel and made our way to the central plaza where there's a cathedral and a park full of vendors. Chris was wearing a Georgia Tech shirt when we were called out by an older white gentleman with a big camera. He said his son went to Tech and that he was from Marietta (very near to where I work). He insisted on taking our picture because he didn't think his son would believe that he had run into another techie in far away Nicaragua. Later we went into the cathedral. Noticing the bell tower door was open, we decided to have a look. Apparently the two towers were being renovated. The ground level had concrete bags and other construction materials stacked around but no one was in sight. We went all the way to the top and found a perfect viewpoint for a panoramic view of the city (which I must now stitch together). We spent a bit of time there, taking the photos and made our way back down the stairs to find the door had been closed and locked from the outside. We went back up the stairs, across the balcony and to the other tower but it was in a less restored state, having no stairs at all. In the end we had to call out to some workers on the street, one of which then came to open the door for us. We left pretty quickly, feeling embarrassed.
In Granada we settled in at The Bearded Monkey, a fantastic hostal with a great courtyard filled with hammocks, an excellent bar, and good clean dormitories. Then we left for Laguna de Apoyo, a lake not far from the city. We took a taxi not realizing that The Bearded Monkey and The Monkey Hut were related and offered $2 trips out to the lagoon a few times a day. When we got there, we had the taxi driver drop us off at a fork in the road. It seems we chose the road less traveled, and less touristed, as we ended up on private land and were turned away. We were told by some locals that the place next door was public and that we could go there to swim. So we did. It all seemed very strange, auto access to the place was closed and nobody was about. When we got to the water, there were three people swimming there, two embracing each other... we weren't sure what was going on. But they saw us and told us that, eventhough it was private land, we were ok to swim there. The guy, George, was a taxi driver. So in the end we agreed that he would wait for us (since we had no ride back to Granada) while we swam and then he would take us back.
La Laguna de Apoyo is a crater lake with a high sulfur content. It's supposedly beneficial to one's health to swim there. The water was lukewarm, relatively clear, and very nice for a swim. Perhaps they are right, it was a very calming place.
We had George take us back to Granada and he gave us his contact info to call him for a ride to San Jorge (the departure point for the Ometepe ferry) the next day. We never did call him though. We went back to The Bearded Monkey, had dinner at "La Hacienda" (see Chris' blog, where I stole this info) and sat at the bar talking to people from all over the place, one of who was, as Chris pointed out, a nice Scottish girl who was working for the government of Luxembourg in the town of Estelí (north of Managua). Our nice chat was interrupted by an obnoxious Swiss named Marco, who are first seemed harmless enough but later we got into an argument about the role of the US in the world. You're supposed to avoid this kind of talk with foreigners because it never ends well. It sort of soured the whole conversation (because for the most part tourists in hostels are the more liberal variety and usually believe that everything the US government does is wrong and that ponies and rainbows can solve all the world's problems.) Anyway, that night we went out to this crazy bar where it was way to hot, met some girls from Arizona, and a few from the UK, then went back to The Bearded where Chris was playing bridge (I guess) with some Australians and maybe an American or two. One of said Australians had recently climbed Concepción, which we would climb on day 5.
Around this time Chris also met some Canadians (Trevor, Ryan, and Reesa(?)) who were going to San Jorge the next day for a trip to Ometepe.
Day 3: Arriving in Ometepe
The next morning rather than call George, we traveled with them by bus from Granada to Rivas, and then by cab from the Rivas bus terminal to the San Jorge pier. We got a good deal on the cab but as there were 5 of us, it was not possible for everyone to have a seat so Reesa had to sit in the front seat with Ryan, half-way hanging out the window for the few miles between Rivas and San Jorge. Some of the locals looked surprised by this, which I thought was odd when you consider how many buses we saw completely crammed full of people (and some bus workers on top of the bus), trucks with a dozen people standing in the back, etc.
At the pier the ferry was being loaded with cars. It could hold perhaps 5 cars and then had space on two decks for passengers, a little store inside, and a restroom. We rode up top next to the captain's cabin where we could see the two volcanoes of Ometepe, Concepción and Maderas rising out of Lake Nicaragua.
After an hour or so on the ferry, we landed in Moyogalpa, one of the two "large" "cities" on the island. The other being Altagracia. Our plan (also agreed upon by the Canadians) was to reach the Charco Verde Reserve, east of Moyogalpa. We flagged down a taxi bus that took us to Hotel Charco Verde. There we were told that the place was completely full for the night... and the next night... etc. This despite there being not a soul in sight. The restaurant was empty. However, the Hotel Venecia was just a short walk up the beach and they might have rooms. Indeed they did and we got a nice room for $20/night (the highest we paid on the entire trip). At sunset we hiked the trails around Charco Verde. There's a lagoon there with a small strip of land circling the lagoon with the lake on the other side. Here we saw some huge frogs and a few odd birds. The view of Concepción from the lagoon made it look all the more intimidating.
Day 4: Hiking and Kayaking
The next day with no plans and taking a break from all the travel we had done to get to the island, we hiked around the trails (but in daylight this time). We went up Mirador del Diablo which is an extremely steep, though short, trail to a look out over Charco Verde. We wondered if this would be conditioning for Concepción.
Later we took a kayak out to Isla de Quiste (I think it is called). We rented the kayak at Hotel Charco Verde for like $1/hr. Then headed out around the point and across a small bay to the island. The going was smooth except in the bay where the water was really choppy. We were under the impression that the island was home to "vicious spider monkeys", monkeys so morally derelict that they would throw poo at anyone who dared step foot on the borders. On the beach there was, exposed in the sand, the giant head of The Statue of Liberty... No, actually there was no beach, there were no monkeys, the island was deserted except for a few vultures who hung out in the trees and a large flock of white birds who crapped all over every branch, leaf, and rock along the coast of the small rock. This didn't stop us from venturing forth. We checked the tall, uhm, monkey grass for monkeys. None. We went around the rocky shore looking in the trees for monkey. None. Not even a single flung poo. But no bother, it was worth the trip out.
On the way back across the bay we beached at a place we knew was relatively near the lagoon. From there we carried the kayak overland to a launching point in the lagoon and kayaked across it with the smoking Concepción in the distance, mocking us.
That evening we requested a guide for the hike up Concepción. People said it was hard. Whatever. People had even died on that volcano. Whatever. We wanted to do it and go straight to its 1600m high crater, spewing (I imagined) hot ash and ruptured by lava flows. We assembled an international team of climbers to beat this volcano. Five strong all we needed was a charismatic guide to lead us to the summit.
Day 5: Climbing Conception
But it was not to be. Our guide Johan, would only take us to 1000m. Toxic gases he said. I was disappointed but wanted to do the hike anyway because 1000m is better than nothing. The hotel arranged for a truck to take us to the beginning of the trail and from there Johan took us up Concepción. There were Chris and I, two of the three Canadians, Trevor and Ryan, and finally Sara, from Arizona. It so happened that Sara and Johan's relationship was not strictly platonic, which didn't really matter but is worth noting. The trail was pretty rough. The Canadians almost died. They were "Prairie People", they said... from Winnipeg. Sara did fine. We did fine. We thought it was a tough trail. We'd find out later what a tough trail is. When we reached the 1000m vista, I was not satisfied with being so close to the crater yet so far from it. It was clearly visible before us but a dangerous 600m to its edge. Johan let me go up a little farther and Ryan came alive at the view and wanted to go higher. We hung out there for awhile with the cows (yes, cows on "top" of a volcano), taking pictures and eating lunch. You could see most of the southern coast of the northern part of the island from the view point. You couldn't see Maderas behind us and on the other side of Concepción, but the view was amazing.
When we got back to the hotel, we arranged with Johan to deliver a motorbike for us to ride to the south side of the island. Originally we were thinking to take two, one for Chris and one for me. The bike arrived in short order and we had Chris try it out. He did very well for never having ridden before but it was apparent that the island would be too much for him to develop adequate skills in time. Very little of the road is paved, most of it is very rocky and other traffic, including animals, can be unpredictable. We decided to take the one bike, with two of us and our gear onboard. We negotiated with Johan on the price and he agreed to have the bike delivered the next morning, 8am.
I believe it was this night that a bus appeared while we were hanging out in the restaurant. It was full of women of all ages (I'd guess 20-something to 40-something) with two male leaders. They immediately set to making drinks and chatting. We had no idea why they were there. Then one of their leaders announced they would be playing trivia. Few people know it but Pookiebadmuffin[1] and I are pretty much trivia gods. I can't count the times we've utterly destroyed the competition at Trivial Pursuit when dice weren't in play (we have been beaten by chance, once I think). Chris asked if we could play. I knew we could stomp the brits, even with our public school education. Their leader said we could play but that we would be at a disadvantage because some of the questions would pertain specifically to their tour. In fact the "trivia" was a few separate activities involving general trivia, riddles, a talent show, and tour-specific multiple choice questions. Our multi-national team (which the Brits, Aussies, and Kiwis balked at) consisted of two Canadians (Trevor and Ryan), three Americans (Chris, Sara, and myself), and an Nicaraguan (Johan). In trivia we held our own. Riddles... no problem. We DOMINATED the talent show with Chris and Johan's a capella rendition of Guantanamera but the judges were overly harsh, giving the show 4 out of a possible 10 points (even though the other "talent" sucked). We were pretty good at guessing the answers to the tour-specific questions. In the end, we came in 3rd out of 5 teams, which I think is a good showing for the Americans (and our Canadian cousins and a Nicaraguan).
Day 6: Arriving at Finca Magdalena and Traveling by Motorcycle
The next morning I was somewhat surprised that the bike actually showed up. It was a 150cc Chinese-made piece of crap but it was new. Everything on it felt cheap and we would learn later of some of its quirks, though in general and to its credit, it did get us everywhere we wanted to go on the island. We had breakfast, packed up, loaded our gear on the bike and headed out for Finca Magdalena. Finca Magdalena is a beautiful plantation co-op consisting of twenty-some odd families. It sits in the shadow of Maderas, the second volcano on the south part of the island.
After dropping our gear in the dorm, we hopped on the bike to go see the waterfall at San Ramón. Finca Magdalena is on the north side of the island, San Ramón on the south side so taking the motorcycle there gave us a good idea of how bad the roads on Ometepe can be. Part of the road from Moyogalpa is paved but once you go across the isthmus to the south side of the island, none of the roads are paved. They are mostly mud and rocks with small portions of dilapidated concrete as the main street of the small villages. Our goal was to reach the Biological Station. From there you can take a 2km 4x4 "road" to the parking area for the waterfall trail. Riding on the roads was easy enough even though I had little (ok, no) offroad experience. It was a bone jarring ride but we made it without incident... although I do recall either on the way there or back accidentally pulling a wheelie, which I'm sure was a great surprise to Chris.
The 4x4 road to the waterfall was brutal. Most of it is simply two tracks where tires had worn away the earth and a large grass berm in the middle. Further up it is alternately covered in two tracks of paving stones or just dirt. We came upon a parked truck, thinking this was the parking area but it turned out the truck was stopped there for no apparent reason and its driver was standing around... also for no apparent reason. We went around the truck, hit a rough spot, went slightly out of control and fell over into the grass along the side of the road. The man told us we would have to slow down. We carried on up the hill. At the parking area (mostly dirt) we fell again. The first time was funny but this time was more hilarious... until I noticed gas was leaking out of the tank.
On the island there aren't exactly tons of gas stations. In fact we saw only two confirmed gas stations, both in Moyogalpa, some few kilometers from anywhere you would be on the island. So when you're out in the middle of nowhere, gas is a precious commodity. As soon as we saw it spilling from the bike's tiny gas tank, we righted it and hoped we didn't lose enough to leave us stranded. After righting the bike, we were ready to head up the trail to the waterfall.
The waterfall is underrated and cannot be portrayed adequately in a photo. I think it is almost 60m tall. There's no swimming hole at the bottom, only a small pool you can wade in to stand under the fall. It's really spectacular. We also saw some local wildlife there. The picture below doesn't capture the scale. The spider is bigger than my hand.
On the way back from San Ramón, we dropped by the biological station's restaurant. It was a fancy place for Ometepe with its own chef who made us the best meal we had on the island. I forget what Chris had but I had spaghetti with chicken and a milkshake with "ochiado" or something like that. I wish I knew what it was. It tasted sort of like cookies and cream ice cream (thanks to loads of sugar). Next to the Barcelona chorizo, its one of the best things I've ever eaten.
Back on the road we stopped a few times to take pics and look around.
I forget exactly how the team was assembled but after returning to Finca Magdalena, we arranged to hike up Maderas. This time it would Chris, Joel, Jan, and I along with our guide Elmut (no idea on the spelling). Joel is a Canadian traveling south through Central America with his girlfriend Allie. Jan is a high-energy German who we passed on our way up Concepción. He turned up at Finca Magdalena sometime around when we arrived.
Day 7: Climbing Maderas
Maderas is a much different volcano from Concepción. Whereas Concepción is arid and active, Maderas is long dormant and inactive, with a lagoon in its crater. They say the dividing line for the tropics falls on the isthmus between these two volcanoes. Which is evident when you summit Maderas to find a cloud forest where everything is lush and wet. Concepción has only small trees and shrubbery at 1000m with no apparent plant life around the crater's rim. Maderas has no view from the top, unless you climb the trees to look out. Even if you do this you can't see very far because of the cloud cover. We had heard that the trail up Maderas was all mud and not as well maintained as that of Concepción. I thought it must be an easier hike because, for one, its only 1300m not 1600m, and looking at the volcano from a distance it appears to have a gentler slope and more inviting appearance. As it turned out, Maderas is one of the toughest climbs I've done. 12km round trip straight up, down into the crater, up out of the crater and straight down again.
We left about 30 minutes behind schedule at 8am because we were waiting for breakfast and packing. The first portion of the trail, which starts directly behind Finca Magdalena, takes you through a forest of tall trees with a few howler monkeys in their branches, past a few rows of coffee trees, and on up to a small number of cocoa trees. From here the trail becomes progressively steeper and muddier. First there are wide swaths of sleek black mud, then the trail narrows and becomes more rocky. Finally it narrows and deepens as you approach the summit. The rocks get bigger, the holes get deeper, you start climbing over fallen trees and stepping up to ledges higher than your waist. It seems endless as it goes up until it finally flattens briefly on the top in the most stereotypical jungle/cloud forest setting. Here we climbed the trees to get a view but aside from some distant fields and houses we could only see the volcano itself and the clouds.
Along the way we saw all sorts of plants but didn't see too many animals. One thing we did find was an angry crab. Elmut caught it and everybody took joy in briefly torturing it with prods and camera flashes. Very Lord Of The Flies.
Descending into the crater is no easier than the climb. Its steep and slippery and full of rocks and mud. At the bottom there is a flat field, with a fairly large lagoon. Surprisingly (and a little annoyingly) we came out of the canopy to find a bunch of hikers sitting on the field eating their lunch. They were high school students and teachers who had hiked up from Mérida, a town on the south side of the island, and were continuing on down to Finca Magdalena via the trail we took up the volcano. We ate our lunches (exactly one "meat sandwich" and one oreo) and sat with them for awhile, took pictures around the lagoon and rested.
While we rested the clouds sank into the crater, releasing a faint drizzle. The upper edge of the crater was obscured. Jan had in mind to take the trail to Mérida where one of the teachers said a truck was leaving to pick up the students at Finca Magdalena. If he timed it right, he could catch the truck for a ride back around the island. He didn't want to do it alone so Joel took it under consideration. I thought it was a bad idea. Certainly they would rush down an unknown trail only to miss the truck and have to find an alternative route back. I didn't want to waste any time waiting for a ride from Mérida so I was opposed. Elmut talked them out of the idea and we started back on the trail we came in on. By this time is was beginning to rain. We had only seen it rain once on the whole trip. But then we were under the thatched hut of the Hotel Venecia's restaurant. Now we were out in it with a 6km trek up and out of the crater and back down the side of Maderas.
I liked the rain. It made the whole scene feel like true jungle or like something from Indiana Jones. It turned the trail into a tiny river, washed the slippery mud off the rocks, and made us less careful (and thus faster) with our steps. We made good time going down. Everybody slid here or there. I almost completely lost my footing once but fortunately had a hiking stick to lever myself away from a face full of mud. Joel and Chris had knee problems but carried on without complaint. Joel was driven by a cold Toña waiting for him at the bar and Chris by a desire to get off the mountain. I was surprised I didn't have knee problems. On some of the trails in North Georgia I've had problems with my right knee but on the island I had no problems at all. Perhaps thats due to strange electromagnetic activity? We both know this is no ordinary island.
Near the end of the trail Elmut spotted a snake, which he then chased with his hiking stick. It got away for awhile but Jan, Joel, and Elmut eventually uncovered it again. I saw that it was red from a distance but never got a close look at it. Joel said it was a coral snake. By this time I was more interested in getting back to the the finca, thinking I hadn't just hiked 12km to get bitten by one of the most venomous snakes in Nicaragua.
The hike had taken a bit over 6 hours so it was only 2 or 2:30 by the time we returned to Finca Magdalena. We ran up our tab with Toñas, batidos, and food then sat around telling all the lazier hostal guests about our trek. Later towards dusk I went around the garden area of the finca, using the good light to take a few photos of flowers growing there but as luck would have it they all turned out crappy.
That night Chris and I eventually wound up at the card table with a hot Isreali chick named Rachel, "Dr." Evo (from Lisbon), Irish Ben, an Australian named Toby (he's switching careers to be an electrician), and an Asian-American girl named Jo. The game of the night was Shithead. We were playing under Irish-Israeli rules which I would explain to you here but it is very nuanced with too many odd rules to be worthwhile. The bar would not provide mixed drinks but they did sell small (375ml) bottles of Flor de Caña rum and they provided Chris with a bucket of ice, a coke, and a plate of limes. I believe some comments were made about a borracho. With all the ingredients, he proceeded to set up his own little bar at the card table, mixing I don't know how many Cuba Libres over the course of a few games. The others were drinking too, causing the game to slowly decline into chaos. People were playing cards out turn, didn't know which was the round was going, clearing the deck, etc etc. Eventually Chris took leave of us to lie in one of the hammocks on the adjacent porch "for awhile". He stumbled away, his drunken stumbling exacerbated by his sore knee. We played an infinite number of rounds of Shithead, with the Israelis and the Irish becoming increasingly agitated with each other until the game was interrupted by a very loud retching, I assumed, from the bathroom.
"Oh... THAT doesn't sound good." said Dr. Evo. We continued to play, agreeing someone was having a hard time of it.
More retching. This time louder and prolonged.
"Do you think they're ok?"
I continued playing cards, not putting two and two together and giving it no thought. Cards eventually gave way to guitar playing with Irish Ben and Toby really making a show of it (much to the chagrin of people trying to sleep in the barn dorms next door). Eventually I said goodnight and went off to bed, which was a cot next to Chris's in the upper dorm. He wasn't there so I figured he fell asleep in the hammock or was asleep in the bed in the unlocked room next door.
Day 8: Leaving Ometepe, Arriving in San Juan del Sur
The next morning was refreshing. The long hikes were over, we had done what we came here for, it was a great day, and I was ready for breakfast. Down below I noticed there was giant wet spot on the ground where one of the hammocks had been and the hammock itself was gone. That's odd. But whatever, on to breakfast. Eventually Chris shows up and explains everything. The contents of his stomach had done a reverse Bay Of Pigs Invasion, exiling themselves back into the world... or more specifically all over the floor around the hammock. Cuba Libre indeed. Needless to say we left a hearty tip for the staff.
After breakfast we cleared our tab, packed up the bike, and headed off. Well, not so fast. The bike wouldn't start. I tried multiple times to start it. I even tried kick starting it. We checked for any little levers or switches that might have been flipped. One of the finca workers joked that the moto didn't want to leave. Another said the battery was low. We tried push starting it but we didn't have enough speed. Lucky for us Finca Magdalena is at the top of a hill. I pushed off down the road and built up what I thought was enough speed to jump start the engine. It started, sputtered, and when I gave it some gass, it died. But now I was hopeful. The engine *could* start. I tried again with a bit more speed. This time the rear wheel locked up and a I slid to a stop. I hadn't done that before. Not something you want to do on the street (but my bike starts and has ABS so not as likely). I tried again and slid again. Then I gave it a long steady run down the hill building up as much speed as felt safe given I was bouncing over rocks and through potholes. Finally I released the clutch and the engine fired right up. We were on our way.
We returned the bike in Moyogalpa... or we think we did at least. I was filling up the tank (as requested by Johan) when some kid from the gas station started blabbing about getting a ride or taking the bike to the beach. I'm not sure what he meant exactly. I told him I had to return the bike to Johan's place and that I could not take him. By the time I got down to Johan's place (he was in Managua), the kid was there talking to Chris. I guess we both assumed the kid was the drop off contact (Johan had failed to give us any of this information) so we left the bike with the kid and he took off on it. Maybe he stole it, maybe he really was the right person... I have no idea. But I was glad to be rid of the obligation. Now it was Johan's problem. We hopped the little ferry (Reina del Sur, I think it was called) and took off across Lake Nicaragua along with our Canadian friends Joel and Allie who appeared at some point along the way.
Our goal with what little time we had left was to reach San Juan del Sur. A Pacific coast town not far from the border with Costa Rica. We had nothing better to do, having extinguished all options on the island so we figured it'd be worthwhile to see the ocean. Back in San Jorge we talked Joel and Allie into getting a cab instead of the bus. The cab was more expensive but we were more concerned with time than cost so we subsidized their portion of fare to get them to come along.
The roads were terrible. At times they were so bad that cars would drive alongside them in the mud rather than through all the potholes in the asphalt. Somebody said this was primarily due to the recent hurricane that swept through a short time before we arrived. I'm not sure. At any rate, we arrived at San Juan del Sur after about an hour's drive. Dr. Evo had recommended a place to stay called Rebecca's Inn. We found the place but only one room was available so we let Joel and Allie take it.
We went around the corner and found Casa Oro. We made the mistake of staying here. This place sucks. They cram 12 people in a room on bunk beds. Ten of those people (ie everybody but Chris and I) are late night partiers. The electricity goes out daily, at least for a few seconds. They put up all the signs instructing you what to do and not do. On top of all that they wouldn't let Chris use the phone to call Mike so we could arrange to be picked up in Managua the next day. Casa Oro sucks. Bearded Monkey rules.
San Juan del Sur is nothing to write home about either. I can't say we made a mistake by coming here because then we'd always wonder what it might be like. To me it was a typical tourist town. There were more gringos about than locals and everything was geared to that crowd. Signs outside of the restaurants proclaimed hamburgers were available. All the menus were in English and Spanish. The beach was littered with debris (again supposedly from the hurricane) and it just didn't seem as friendly as Ometepe or Granada. Perhaps if we had more time to spend and could have seen the other beaches I would have a better opinion of it. As it stands, I'd be happy to go back to Nicaragua and not go anywhere near San Juan del Sur, even if they were building a temporary Toña Town right next to the cathedral. Well, I might be persuaded if I could go to the bull ring, which is just outside the city but I bet plenty of cities down that way have bull rings.
We were stuck there for the night at least. We went out to one of the many restaurants (Marie's Bar, all the places in San Juan del Sur have feminine English names it seems). Being a tourist vortex we couldn't help but run into Joel and Allie who joined us for dinner. And who else should arrive but the other Canadians: Trevor, Ryan, and Reesa. It is a small country after all, with well-trodden tourist tracks.
Day 9: The Trip Home
We were supposed to catch the 5am express bus from San Juan del Sur to Managua. We had woken up early almost everyday. We thought we had a good chance of making it even if we didn't have an alarm clock. Of course we missed the bus. So we took the so-called Chicken Bus from San Juan del Sur to Rivas and then from Rivas to Managua. Mike picked us up near the Managua bus terminal and took us back to his place where we happily swam in the pool and washed clothes. That night we went to a movie theatre (VIP or something) that had big recliners and let you order food and drink during the movie. We watched Super Agente 86 (Get Smart in English) then went back to the Elmers' place to sleep before our 6:50am flight home the next morning.
1. Pookiebadmuffin aka FuriousJorge aka Cocoa aka Beep... IS NOT BAUCOM.
We left Atlanta around 2:30pm on Friday the 13th and arrived in Managua after sundown. The airport is relatively small and customs is simple so we breezed right through and out into the reception area where Mike Elmer, our host for the first and last nights of the trip, was easily picked out of the crowd. He's a tall guy, 6' 9" tall. As you may guess, there are not very many 7-foot gringos in Managua. We hopped in his hilux (which I MUST HAVE!) and drove through the craziest traffic menagerie I have ever seen to arrive at the condo he shares with his sweet wife Esther and their newborn son Isaac (only a few weeks old!). They were very gracious hosts and had a very nice place with gardens and a pool. It so happened they were going to Granada the next day, as were we, so they offered us a ride for the 45-minute trip south. The next morning we threw our gear in the back of the hilux, put Isaac in the baby seat and set off, with the Elmers pointing out features along the way and telling us of places to visit and things to see.
Day 2: Granada
We arrived in traffic in Granada. After some time, we said goodbye to the Elmers, leaving them at their hotel and made our way to the central plaza where there's a cathedral and a park full of vendors. Chris was wearing a Georgia Tech shirt when we were called out by an older white gentleman with a big camera. He said his son went to Tech and that he was from Marietta (very near to where I work). He insisted on taking our picture because he didn't think his son would believe that he had run into another techie in far away Nicaragua. Later we went into the cathedral. Noticing the bell tower door was open, we decided to have a look. Apparently the two towers were being renovated. The ground level had concrete bags and other construction materials stacked around but no one was in sight. We went all the way to the top and found a perfect viewpoint for a panoramic view of the city (which I must now stitch together). We spent a bit of time there, taking the photos and made our way back down the stairs to find the door had been closed and locked from the outside. We went back up the stairs, across the balcony and to the other tower but it was in a less restored state, having no stairs at all. In the end we had to call out to some workers on the street, one of which then came to open the door for us. We left pretty quickly, feeling embarrassed.
In Granada we settled in at The Bearded Monkey, a fantastic hostal with a great courtyard filled with hammocks, an excellent bar, and good clean dormitories. Then we left for Laguna de Apoyo, a lake not far from the city. We took a taxi not realizing that The Bearded Monkey and The Monkey Hut were related and offered $2 trips out to the lagoon a few times a day. When we got there, we had the taxi driver drop us off at a fork in the road. It seems we chose the road less traveled, and less touristed, as we ended up on private land and were turned away. We were told by some locals that the place next door was public and that we could go there to swim. So we did. It all seemed very strange, auto access to the place was closed and nobody was about. When we got to the water, there were three people swimming there, two embracing each other... we weren't sure what was going on. But they saw us and told us that, eventhough it was private land, we were ok to swim there. The guy, George, was a taxi driver. So in the end we agreed that he would wait for us (since we had no ride back to Granada) while we swam and then he would take us back.
La Laguna de Apoyo is a crater lake with a high sulfur content. It's supposedly beneficial to one's health to swim there. The water was lukewarm, relatively clear, and very nice for a swim. Perhaps they are right, it was a very calming place.
We had George take us back to Granada and he gave us his contact info to call him for a ride to San Jorge (the departure point for the Ometepe ferry) the next day. We never did call him though. We went back to The Bearded Monkey, had dinner at "La Hacienda" (see Chris' blog, where I stole this info) and sat at the bar talking to people from all over the place, one of who was, as Chris pointed out, a nice Scottish girl who was working for the government of Luxembourg in the town of Estelí (north of Managua). Our nice chat was interrupted by an obnoxious Swiss named Marco, who are first seemed harmless enough but later we got into an argument about the role of the US in the world. You're supposed to avoid this kind of talk with foreigners because it never ends well. It sort of soured the whole conversation (because for the most part tourists in hostels are the more liberal variety and usually believe that everything the US government does is wrong and that ponies and rainbows can solve all the world's problems.) Anyway, that night we went out to this crazy bar where it was way to hot, met some girls from Arizona, and a few from the UK, then went back to The Bearded where Chris was playing bridge (I guess) with some Australians and maybe an American or two. One of said Australians had recently climbed Concepción, which we would climb on day 5.
Around this time Chris also met some Canadians (Trevor, Ryan, and Reesa(?)) who were going to San Jorge the next day for a trip to Ometepe.
Day 3: Arriving in Ometepe
The next morning rather than call George, we traveled with them by bus from Granada to Rivas, and then by cab from the Rivas bus terminal to the San Jorge pier. We got a good deal on the cab but as there were 5 of us, it was not possible for everyone to have a seat so Reesa had to sit in the front seat with Ryan, half-way hanging out the window for the few miles between Rivas and San Jorge. Some of the locals looked surprised by this, which I thought was odd when you consider how many buses we saw completely crammed full of people (and some bus workers on top of the bus), trucks with a dozen people standing in the back, etc.
At the pier the ferry was being loaded with cars. It could hold perhaps 5 cars and then had space on two decks for passengers, a little store inside, and a restroom. We rode up top next to the captain's cabin where we could see the two volcanoes of Ometepe, Concepción and Maderas rising out of Lake Nicaragua.
After an hour or so on the ferry, we landed in Moyogalpa, one of the two "large" "cities" on the island. The other being Altagracia. Our plan (also agreed upon by the Canadians) was to reach the Charco Verde Reserve, east of Moyogalpa. We flagged down a taxi bus that took us to Hotel Charco Verde. There we were told that the place was completely full for the night... and the next night... etc. This despite there being not a soul in sight. The restaurant was empty. However, the Hotel Venecia was just a short walk up the beach and they might have rooms. Indeed they did and we got a nice room for $20/night (the highest we paid on the entire trip). At sunset we hiked the trails around Charco Verde. There's a lagoon there with a small strip of land circling the lagoon with the lake on the other side. Here we saw some huge frogs and a few odd birds. The view of Concepción from the lagoon made it look all the more intimidating.
Day 4: Hiking and Kayaking
The next day with no plans and taking a break from all the travel we had done to get to the island, we hiked around the trails (but in daylight this time). We went up Mirador del Diablo which is an extremely steep, though short, trail to a look out over Charco Verde. We wondered if this would be conditioning for Concepción.
Later we took a kayak out to Isla de Quiste (I think it is called). We rented the kayak at Hotel Charco Verde for like $1/hr. Then headed out around the point and across a small bay to the island. The going was smooth except in the bay where the water was really choppy. We were under the impression that the island was home to "vicious spider monkeys", monkeys so morally derelict that they would throw poo at anyone who dared step foot on the borders. On the beach there was, exposed in the sand, the giant head of The Statue of Liberty... No, actually there was no beach, there were no monkeys, the island was deserted except for a few vultures who hung out in the trees and a large flock of white birds who crapped all over every branch, leaf, and rock along the coast of the small rock. This didn't stop us from venturing forth. We checked the tall, uhm, monkey grass for monkeys. None. We went around the rocky shore looking in the trees for monkey. None. Not even a single flung poo. But no bother, it was worth the trip out.
On the way back across the bay we beached at a place we knew was relatively near the lagoon. From there we carried the kayak overland to a launching point in the lagoon and kayaked across it with the smoking Concepción in the distance, mocking us.
That evening we requested a guide for the hike up Concepción. People said it was hard. Whatever. People had even died on that volcano. Whatever. We wanted to do it and go straight to its 1600m high crater, spewing (I imagined) hot ash and ruptured by lava flows. We assembled an international team of climbers to beat this volcano. Five strong all we needed was a charismatic guide to lead us to the summit.
Day 5: Climbing Conception
But it was not to be. Our guide Johan, would only take us to 1000m. Toxic gases he said. I was disappointed but wanted to do the hike anyway because 1000m is better than nothing. The hotel arranged for a truck to take us to the beginning of the trail and from there Johan took us up Concepción. There were Chris and I, two of the three Canadians, Trevor and Ryan, and finally Sara, from Arizona. It so happened that Sara and Johan's relationship was not strictly platonic, which didn't really matter but is worth noting. The trail was pretty rough. The Canadians almost died. They were "Prairie People", they said... from Winnipeg. Sara did fine. We did fine. We thought it was a tough trail. We'd find out later what a tough trail is. When we reached the 1000m vista, I was not satisfied with being so close to the crater yet so far from it. It was clearly visible before us but a dangerous 600m to its edge. Johan let me go up a little farther and Ryan came alive at the view and wanted to go higher. We hung out there for awhile with the cows (yes, cows on "top" of a volcano), taking pictures and eating lunch. You could see most of the southern coast of the northern part of the island from the view point. You couldn't see Maderas behind us and on the other side of Concepción, but the view was amazing.
When we got back to the hotel, we arranged with Johan to deliver a motorbike for us to ride to the south side of the island. Originally we were thinking to take two, one for Chris and one for me. The bike arrived in short order and we had Chris try it out. He did very well for never having ridden before but it was apparent that the island would be too much for him to develop adequate skills in time. Very little of the road is paved, most of it is very rocky and other traffic, including animals, can be unpredictable. We decided to take the one bike, with two of us and our gear onboard. We negotiated with Johan on the price and he agreed to have the bike delivered the next morning, 8am.
I believe it was this night that a bus appeared while we were hanging out in the restaurant. It was full of women of all ages (I'd guess 20-something to 40-something) with two male leaders. They immediately set to making drinks and chatting. We had no idea why they were there. Then one of their leaders announced they would be playing trivia. Few people know it but Pookiebadmuffin
Day 6: Arriving at Finca Magdalena and Traveling by Motorcycle
The next morning I was somewhat surprised that the bike actually showed up. It was a 150cc Chinese-made piece of crap but it was new. Everything on it felt cheap and we would learn later of some of its quirks, though in general and to its credit, it did get us everywhere we wanted to go on the island. We had breakfast, packed up, loaded our gear on the bike and headed out for Finca Magdalena. Finca Magdalena is a beautiful plantation co-op consisting of twenty-some odd families. It sits in the shadow of Maderas, the second volcano on the south part of the island.
After dropping our gear in the dorm, we hopped on the bike to go see the waterfall at San Ramón. Finca Magdalena is on the north side of the island, San Ramón on the south side so taking the motorcycle there gave us a good idea of how bad the roads on Ometepe can be. Part of the road from Moyogalpa is paved but once you go across the isthmus to the south side of the island, none of the roads are paved. They are mostly mud and rocks with small portions of dilapidated concrete as the main street of the small villages. Our goal was to reach the Biological Station. From there you can take a 2km 4x4 "road" to the parking area for the waterfall trail. Riding on the roads was easy enough even though I had little (ok, no) offroad experience. It was a bone jarring ride but we made it without incident... although I do recall either on the way there or back accidentally pulling a wheelie, which I'm sure was a great surprise to Chris.
The 4x4 road to the waterfall was brutal. Most of it is simply two tracks where tires had worn away the earth and a large grass berm in the middle. Further up it is alternately covered in two tracks of paving stones or just dirt. We came upon a parked truck, thinking this was the parking area but it turned out the truck was stopped there for no apparent reason and its driver was standing around... also for no apparent reason. We went around the truck, hit a rough spot, went slightly out of control and fell over into the grass along the side of the road. The man told us we would have to slow down. We carried on up the hill. At the parking area (mostly dirt) we fell again. The first time was funny but this time was more hilarious... until I noticed gas was leaking out of the tank.
On the island there aren't exactly tons of gas stations. In fact we saw only two confirmed gas stations, both in Moyogalpa, some few kilometers from anywhere you would be on the island. So when you're out in the middle of nowhere, gas is a precious commodity. As soon as we saw it spilling from the bike's tiny gas tank, we righted it and hoped we didn't lose enough to leave us stranded. After righting the bike, we were ready to head up the trail to the waterfall.
The waterfall is underrated and cannot be portrayed adequately in a photo. I think it is almost 60m tall. There's no swimming hole at the bottom, only a small pool you can wade in to stand under the fall. It's really spectacular. We also saw some local wildlife there. The picture below doesn't capture the scale. The spider is bigger than my hand.
On the way back from San Ramón, we dropped by the biological station's restaurant. It was a fancy place for Ometepe with its own chef who made us the best meal we had on the island. I forget what Chris had but I had spaghetti with chicken and a milkshake with "ochiado" or something like that. I wish I knew what it was. It tasted sort of like cookies and cream ice cream (thanks to loads of sugar). Next to the Barcelona chorizo, its one of the best things I've ever eaten.
Back on the road we stopped a few times to take pics and look around.
I forget exactly how the team was assembled but after returning to Finca Magdalena, we arranged to hike up Maderas. This time it would Chris, Joel, Jan, and I along with our guide Elmut (no idea on the spelling). Joel is a Canadian traveling south through Central America with his girlfriend Allie. Jan is a high-energy German who we passed on our way up Concepción. He turned up at Finca Magdalena sometime around when we arrived.
Day 7: Climbing Maderas
Maderas is a much different volcano from Concepción. Whereas Concepción is arid and active, Maderas is long dormant and inactive, with a lagoon in its crater. They say the dividing line for the tropics falls on the isthmus between these two volcanoes. Which is evident when you summit Maderas to find a cloud forest where everything is lush and wet. Concepción has only small trees and shrubbery at 1000m with no apparent plant life around the crater's rim. Maderas has no view from the top, unless you climb the trees to look out. Even if you do this you can't see very far because of the cloud cover. We had heard that the trail up Maderas was all mud and not as well maintained as that of Concepción. I thought it must be an easier hike because, for one, its only 1300m not 1600m, and looking at the volcano from a distance it appears to have a gentler slope and more inviting appearance. As it turned out, Maderas is one of the toughest climbs I've done. 12km round trip straight up, down into the crater, up out of the crater and straight down again.
We left about 30 minutes behind schedule at 8am because we were waiting for breakfast and packing. The first portion of the trail, which starts directly behind Finca Magdalena, takes you through a forest of tall trees with a few howler monkeys in their branches, past a few rows of coffee trees, and on up to a small number of cocoa trees. From here the trail becomes progressively steeper and muddier. First there are wide swaths of sleek black mud, then the trail narrows and becomes more rocky. Finally it narrows and deepens as you approach the summit. The rocks get bigger, the holes get deeper, you start climbing over fallen trees and stepping up to ledges higher than your waist. It seems endless as it goes up until it finally flattens briefly on the top in the most stereotypical jungle/cloud forest setting. Here we climbed the trees to get a view but aside from some distant fields and houses we could only see the volcano itself and the clouds.
Along the way we saw all sorts of plants but didn't see too many animals. One thing we did find was an angry crab. Elmut caught it and everybody took joy in briefly torturing it with prods and camera flashes. Very Lord Of The Flies.
Descending into the crater is no easier than the climb. Its steep and slippery and full of rocks and mud. At the bottom there is a flat field, with a fairly large lagoon. Surprisingly (and a little annoyingly) we came out of the canopy to find a bunch of hikers sitting on the field eating their lunch. They were high school students and teachers who had hiked up from Mérida, a town on the south side of the island, and were continuing on down to Finca Magdalena via the trail we took up the volcano. We ate our lunches (exactly one "meat sandwich" and one oreo) and sat with them for awhile, took pictures around the lagoon and rested.
While we rested the clouds sank into the crater, releasing a faint drizzle. The upper edge of the crater was obscured. Jan had in mind to take the trail to Mérida where one of the teachers said a truck was leaving to pick up the students at Finca Magdalena. If he timed it right, he could catch the truck for a ride back around the island. He didn't want to do it alone so Joel took it under consideration. I thought it was a bad idea. Certainly they would rush down an unknown trail only to miss the truck and have to find an alternative route back. I didn't want to waste any time waiting for a ride from Mérida so I was opposed. Elmut talked them out of the idea and we started back on the trail we came in on. By this time is was beginning to rain. We had only seen it rain once on the whole trip. But then we were under the thatched hut of the Hotel Venecia's restaurant. Now we were out in it with a 6km trek up and out of the crater and back down the side of Maderas.
I liked the rain. It made the whole scene feel like true jungle or like something from Indiana Jones. It turned the trail into a tiny river, washed the slippery mud off the rocks, and made us less careful (and thus faster) with our steps. We made good time going down. Everybody slid here or there. I almost completely lost my footing once but fortunately had a hiking stick to lever myself away from a face full of mud. Joel and Chris had knee problems but carried on without complaint. Joel was driven by a cold Toña waiting for him at the bar and Chris by a desire to get off the mountain. I was surprised I didn't have knee problems. On some of the trails in North Georgia I've had problems with my right knee but on the island I had no problems at all. Perhaps thats due to strange electromagnetic activity? We both know this is no ordinary island.
Near the end of the trail Elmut spotted a snake, which he then chased with his hiking stick. It got away for awhile but Jan, Joel, and Elmut eventually uncovered it again. I saw that it was red from a distance but never got a close look at it. Joel said it was a coral snake. By this time I was more interested in getting back to the the finca, thinking I hadn't just hiked 12km to get bitten by one of the most venomous snakes in Nicaragua.
The hike had taken a bit over 6 hours so it was only 2 or 2:30 by the time we returned to Finca Magdalena. We ran up our tab with Toñas, batidos, and food then sat around telling all the lazier hostal guests about our trek. Later towards dusk I went around the garden area of the finca, using the good light to take a few photos of flowers growing there but as luck would have it they all turned out crappy.
That night Chris and I eventually wound up at the card table with a hot Isreali chick named Rachel, "Dr." Evo (from Lisbon), Irish Ben, an Australian named Toby (he's switching careers to be an electrician), and an Asian-American girl named Jo. The game of the night was Shithead. We were playing under Irish-Israeli rules which I would explain to you here but it is very nuanced with too many odd rules to be worthwhile. The bar would not provide mixed drinks but they did sell small (375ml) bottles of Flor de Caña rum and they provided Chris with a bucket of ice, a coke, and a plate of limes. I believe some comments were made about a borracho. With all the ingredients, he proceeded to set up his own little bar at the card table, mixing I don't know how many Cuba Libres over the course of a few games. The others were drinking too, causing the game to slowly decline into chaos. People were playing cards out turn, didn't know which was the round was going, clearing the deck, etc etc. Eventually Chris took leave of us to lie in one of the hammocks on the adjacent porch "for awhile". He stumbled away, his drunken stumbling exacerbated by his sore knee. We played an infinite number of rounds of Shithead, with the Israelis and the Irish becoming increasingly agitated with each other until the game was interrupted by a very loud retching, I assumed, from the bathroom.
"Oh... THAT doesn't sound good." said Dr. Evo. We continued to play, agreeing someone was having a hard time of it.
More retching. This time louder and prolonged.
"Do you think they're ok?"
I continued playing cards, not putting two and two together and giving it no thought. Cards eventually gave way to guitar playing with Irish Ben and Toby really making a show of it (much to the chagrin of people trying to sleep in the barn dorms next door). Eventually I said goodnight and went off to bed, which was a cot next to Chris's in the upper dorm. He wasn't there so I figured he fell asleep in the hammock or was asleep in the bed in the unlocked room next door.
Day 8: Leaving Ometepe, Arriving in San Juan del Sur
The next morning was refreshing. The long hikes were over, we had done what we came here for, it was a great day, and I was ready for breakfast. Down below I noticed there was giant wet spot on the ground where one of the hammocks had been and the hammock itself was gone. That's odd. But whatever, on to breakfast. Eventually Chris shows up and explains everything. The contents of his stomach had done a reverse Bay Of Pigs Invasion, exiling themselves back into the world... or more specifically all over the floor around the hammock. Cuba Libre indeed. Needless to say we left a hearty tip for the staff.
After breakfast we cleared our tab, packed up the bike, and headed off. Well, not so fast. The bike wouldn't start. I tried multiple times to start it. I even tried kick starting it. We checked for any little levers or switches that might have been flipped. One of the finca workers joked that the moto didn't want to leave. Another said the battery was low. We tried push starting it but we didn't have enough speed. Lucky for us Finca Magdalena is at the top of a hill. I pushed off down the road and built up what I thought was enough speed to jump start the engine. It started, sputtered, and when I gave it some gass, it died. But now I was hopeful. The engine *could* start. I tried again with a bit more speed. This time the rear wheel locked up and a I slid to a stop. I hadn't done that before. Not something you want to do on the street (but my bike starts and has ABS so not as likely). I tried again and slid again. Then I gave it a long steady run down the hill building up as much speed as felt safe given I was bouncing over rocks and through potholes. Finally I released the clutch and the engine fired right up. We were on our way.
We returned the bike in Moyogalpa... or we think we did at least. I was filling up the tank (as requested by Johan) when some kid from the gas station started blabbing about getting a ride or taking the bike to the beach. I'm not sure what he meant exactly. I told him I had to return the bike to Johan's place and that I could not take him. By the time I got down to Johan's place (he was in Managua), the kid was there talking to Chris. I guess we both assumed the kid was the drop off contact (Johan had failed to give us any of this information) so we left the bike with the kid and he took off on it. Maybe he stole it, maybe he really was the right person... I have no idea. But I was glad to be rid of the obligation. Now it was Johan's problem. We hopped the little ferry (Reina del Sur, I think it was called) and took off across Lake Nicaragua along with our Canadian friends Joel and Allie who appeared at some point along the way.
Our goal with what little time we had left was to reach San Juan del Sur. A Pacific coast town not far from the border with Costa Rica. We had nothing better to do, having extinguished all options on the island so we figured it'd be worthwhile to see the ocean. Back in San Jorge we talked Joel and Allie into getting a cab instead of the bus. The cab was more expensive but we were more concerned with time than cost so we subsidized their portion of fare to get them to come along.
The roads were terrible. At times they were so bad that cars would drive alongside them in the mud rather than through all the potholes in the asphalt. Somebody said this was primarily due to the recent hurricane that swept through a short time before we arrived. I'm not sure. At any rate, we arrived at San Juan del Sur after about an hour's drive. Dr. Evo had recommended a place to stay called Rebecca's Inn. We found the place but only one room was available so we let Joel and Allie take it.
We went around the corner and found Casa Oro. We made the mistake of staying here. This place sucks. They cram 12 people in a room on bunk beds. Ten of those people (ie everybody but Chris and I) are late night partiers. The electricity goes out daily, at least for a few seconds. They put up all the signs instructing you what to do and not do. On top of all that they wouldn't let Chris use the phone to call Mike so we could arrange to be picked up in Managua the next day. Casa Oro sucks. Bearded Monkey rules.
San Juan del Sur is nothing to write home about either. I can't say we made a mistake by coming here because then we'd always wonder what it might be like. To me it was a typical tourist town. There were more gringos about than locals and everything was geared to that crowd. Signs outside of the restaurants proclaimed hamburgers were available. All the menus were in English and Spanish. The beach was littered with debris (again supposedly from the hurricane) and it just didn't seem as friendly as Ometepe or Granada. Perhaps if we had more time to spend and could have seen the other beaches I would have a better opinion of it. As it stands, I'd be happy to go back to Nicaragua and not go anywhere near San Juan del Sur, even if they were building a temporary Toña Town right next to the cathedral. Well, I might be persuaded if I could go to the bull ring, which is just outside the city but I bet plenty of cities down that way have bull rings.
We were stuck there for the night at least. We went out to one of the many restaurants (Marie's Bar, all the places in San Juan del Sur have feminine English names it seems). Being a tourist vortex we couldn't help but run into Joel and Allie who joined us for dinner. And who else should arrive but the other Canadians: Trevor, Ryan, and Reesa. It is a small country after all, with well-trodden tourist tracks.
Day 9: The Trip Home
We were supposed to catch the 5am express bus from San Juan del Sur to Managua. We had woken up early almost everyday. We thought we had a good chance of making it even if we didn't have an alarm clock. Of course we missed the bus. So we took the so-called Chicken Bus from San Juan del Sur to Rivas and then from Rivas to Managua. Mike picked us up near the Managua bus terminal and took us back to his place where we happily swam in the pool and washed clothes. That night we went to a movie theatre (VIP or something) that had big recliners and let you order food and drink during the movie. We watched Super Agente 86 (Get Smart in English) then went back to the Elmers' place to sleep before our 6:50am flight home the next morning.
1. Pookiebadmuffin aka FuriousJorge aka Cocoa aka Beep... IS NOT BAUCOM.
posted by outpostbabu at 9:43 PM
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