Pedal The Globe Series: Central

Ep 28: Managua to The Mountains



Ep 29: Going Deep Into Nicaragua



Ep 30: La Biosfera De Jinotega



Ep 31: Friends In Granada



Ep 32: Buenas Ometepe



Ep 33: Donde Lago Nicaragua y Volcan Maderas



Ep 34: Adios Ometepe



Ep 35: Juggling On The Backroads



Ep 36; San Juan Del Surf

Planeta Nica

I made it alive and safe into Nicaragua. Although there was little difference in the the economic, social, agricultural or cultural situation directly on the other side of the border from Honduras, just the fact that I was out of Honduras made me slightly relieved. It’s amazing how powerful the media and information we receive from the outside can affect us. There really was no difference on the other side of the line except for the fact that I was now in what’s called the country of “Nicaragua.”

I had charged hard all morning the day that I peddled into the country, and I was a bit tired upon rolling in. The first town on my map was a little town called Somotillo, and it’s roughly 8k from the border of Honduras. On the way to Somotillo I spotted a big restaurant with a pool surrounded by palapas. I figured I’d check and see if I can bust the old ‘buy dinner & camp’ trick. When I approached the restaurant it looked like they were doing construction to a new building in the back, and that the restaurant wasn’t in function. I called out to one of the workers who came up to see what I wanted. I asked  him if I could camp there. Amused by my request he went to check with his boss. The boss said it was cool. He told me that I could set up my sleeping arrangement in any of the palapas around the pool. Apparently I wasn’t the first cyclist camper who’d been there before.

Some of the workers who were constructing the building next to my palapa spotted me setting up. One in particular was staring at me suspiciously. He motioned to his coworkers and now three of them were looking at me with concerned glares. I ignored them, and continued setting my things up. I strung up my hammock, then pulled out some snacks and a book. I sat down resting my back against the palapa beam.

(My first bed in Nicaragua)

Eventually the sun started going down. The boss came to check up on me. He informed me not to worry about being solo as all the workers live on site during the work week. When he walked away his workers surrounded him. They were talking to him emotionally about something, and would shoot glances at me intermittently as they spoke. The boss called me over to explain to his workers who I was, and what I was doing there. I walked over and told them my story. At first two of them, who were around my age, seemed very concerned about the fact that I just ride around on my bicycle. They couldn’t understand why, and neither did they even believe that I had actually ridden the whole way on a bike. I explained my story to them and answered their questions calmly & openly. By the end they were amused by my stories. I could feel one of them still had a little bone to pick with me, but I was more tired than concerned.

Just before I hit the sack, the boss surprised me by bringing over a plate of rice & beans (gallo pinto). It made me feel better for the $100 Cordoba ($4USD) fee he had charged me after I was already all set up. We sat down at a poolside table and ate dinner together. We talked about many things including our collective travels, the fact that him & the crew commute via bus from the capital of Managua each week, politics in the US & Nicaragua, and in the end we concluded that things are messed up politically in the world, and have been for a long time. He then told me that the water from the tap is fresh & comes from a well, and that I could swim in the pool if I wanted to cool off before sleep. He said goodnight, and then he walked away to his sleeping space. I watered up my bottles, took a dive in the pool, and got into my hammock after drying off.

The next morning I was up at the crack of dawn. I bundled my hammock up, strapped everything to my bike, ate some bananas & bread, said thank you & goodbye to the workers, and took off for a city called Chinandega. My ride that was about 77 kilometers. I got a good start being on the road before 6am, and by 10am I was already at a little town roughly halfway from my destination. I stopped at a nice looking little comedor, and had a superb $C50 ($2) breakfast. Gallo pinto & eggs. The road got nice around this point as Volcan San Cristobal was in sight, and for the rest of the ride I rode around the volcano.

(Volcano San Cristobal as seen from the highway)

Maybe an hour after eating the breakfast I rode passed a large statue of a bull. All of a sudden I remembered what a friendly trucker had told me about this bull back on the border of El Salvador/Honduras. The trucker had told me that in the town/area surrounding the bull statue it was known to be a place where truckers have been robbed at night. It was one of the few places that the Salvadorean trucker, who knew the roads up and down central america, had told me to be slightly aware of. I had forgotten up until that point since the road had been so nice, and there hadn’t seemed to be any signs for concern up to that point. My awareness raised as I was nearing the town in sight. A moment later a pair of guys on a motorbike passed me, and then slowed down to my speed. The guy in the back was carrying a baseball bat, and they asked me, “Arr yu frohm the United State?” I answered in Portuguese, “Sou do Brasil mano! Brasiliero-Ingles!” We smiled at each other and they zipped off. I don’t quite know what that was about, but since I knew the unfortunate history that the U.S. gov’t has in the country of Nicaragua, like the US Occupation of Nicaragua and the US supporting the dictators & anti-revolutionaries in the 80’s, I presumed it would be better to assume my heritage nationalities. Luckily I’ve been blessed with a few citizenships up my sleeve.

(US occupation of Nicaragua. Photo from Sandino Museum, Managua)

Aside from slightly tense introduction, the community seemed like any other small community off the highway, for the most part.. It had a good amount of shade, and it was highly populated for its relatively small size. Right before crossing a bridge, in the heart of town, I passed a large group of bored adolescents & young adults. One of them motioned rapidly to get his friends attention on me, and they both perked up as I got closer. As I passed I exclaimed, “SALUD!” with a smile, and they all gave me semi-hesitant thumbs ups. I kept pumping hard and soon they were over a block away. A few nice residents smiled when I saluted them with, “Hola!” My last brush with a local was young guy on a bicycle who was maybe a couple years younger than me. He was riding his bike in the other direction, and when he saw me he did a big U-turn. It seemed like he was maybe following me for a while as I rode through town. By the time I got to the outskirts he was far behind me and I kept pumping until I was clear out of town. About an hour later I rolled into the city of Chinandega.

(Chinandega. Photo from google image search)

There was still a hustle & bustle, rough & tough energy similar to what I’d felt in Honduras/El Salvador. The ‘electricity,’ if you will, is still alive in Chinandega Nicaragua. Yet there were distinct differences from the more Mayan northern neighbors up above. In Chinandega, and in much of Nicaragua, I noticed that the people & things were more ‘colorful.’ The people were more mixed raced and the buildings/homes/cars in more varieties of colors.

Before I could do much else I needed to find a place to put my load down. I got directions to the firefighters in town, and rolled my way over to the station. The firefighters greeted me nicely but the old captain told me that unfortunately he wouldn’t be able to host me as they’d had a bad experience with another travelling cyclist in the past. Perhaps I would have been more upset had they not suggested me to the red cross which turned out to be perfect. 

(My room @ the red cross)

They gave me my own room, told me I could use the showers, and even informed me of how much to expect to pay for food at the local market ($C40 Cordobas). I went to the market, ate some food, got some road snacks, and went back to my little room to rest. It must have only been around 3-4pm but I was so tired from the successive rides that my nap lasted passed sunset. I only woke up when some of the young volunteers were on their way out. One of them woke me up to help him pump his bicycle tire which had gone flat.

The next morning I was peddling early to the city of Leon only 40k away. I ate some great food on the side of the highway in front of a college/university just outside of Chinandega. It was a little family run operation. They served the food out the side of their minivan, mostly catering to the college students. “MMMM! Bueno bonito y barato!” (good, pretty, & cheap!). That was definitely the highlight of my short ride that day. 

I rolled into Leon early, and I decided to treat myself to a hostel room since I’d been roughing it for a while. It was about time for some wifi, and a clean bed.

(The door to my room is visible on the balcony @ Hostal Center)

The Hostal Center is ran by a family. After a little price negotiations with the son/manager we agreed to $10(USD) for 2 nights. They were still adding the finishing touches to some construction right outside the dorm room, so I had a little room for negotiation. I was in town early and it must have only been about 11-11:30am by the time I got all of my things put down. Already I had the key to my empty dorm room, and plenty of time on my hands. I set a video to upload, and then I went out to explore town & do a couple errands.

Revolutionary/Socialist art in Leon:

Bomba @ one of Leon's Cathedrals:

Down the street in Leon:

While out in the town I ran into a Quebecois skydiving buddy, Jeanremy, who I had met back in El Salvador. We agreed to hang out later. Afterwards I went to the market. I realized that in Leon there are many tourists and unless you’re good at bargaining you’ll be ripped off. Especially if you look Scandinavian like me. Prices are on a sliding scale is what I’m saying, and there is a ‘gringo’ tax which is subject to change if you can make a good case for keeping the price down. I don’t blame the locals because although sometimes the meal really costs $C50 ($2USD) for a local, and they may try to charge a foreigner twice that price $C100 ($4USD), $4 dollars is still a relatively low amount of money to pay for a heaping plate of food. For most foreigners if they compared the amount of food they’d get in their own countries for the same amount of money it's still a good bargain. Regardless, I am on a much longer journey than the average tourist. I don’t generate much or any money most of the time, and so I have to survive on as little as possible. That’s why I have become the ultimate bargainer, and I aim to keep my food costs as low as possible. Local food vendors are understanding most of the time, especially when I tell them that I’ll sacrifice the meat portion or will take a smaller serving.

(Leon central market)

(Iguana's are a delicacy in Nicaragua, and they're for sale @ the Leon central market)

I took the next day off, and I ran into Jeanremy & his friends on my way to the market for lunch. We had a nice time of hanging out around town afterwards. Jeanremy told me that he was probably heading for a little beach town called ‘El Transito’ the following day, and I was planning on going up to the mountains in Matagalpa area to check out some farm volunteering prospects. 

That night as I was resting alone in what remained my personal dorm room, I had a strange feeling about my ride the next day. I decided to consult the ICHING, and it gave me an ominous warning.

(The 64 hexagrams of the IChing)

Not only was the reading ominous but it was so explicit to my situation that it left no room for question. I’d either ignore the IChing completely and go with my original plan or I’d totally change my route, and take the Oracle’s suggestion. Basically what it told me was “peril in the mountains to the northeast; fortune where my friends were in the low lands to the southwest.” I was planning on climbing to Matagalpa which is exactly “mountains to the northeast” from Leon, and my friends had just informed me that day that they’d be going to the beach in El Transito, which is exactly “lowlands to the southwest” of Leon. The oracle, IChing, has been so instrumental in my journey so far, and so accurate in all of its predictions that I couldn’t imagine going against it’s suggestions. Even though it felt strange changing my direction so suddenly, the next morning instead of riding up to the mountains, I was off to the beach:

(Playa El Transito)

My ‘fortune’ came pretty suddenly in El Transito. After a relatively short days ride from Leon I was in El Transito early enough to take an afternoon swim in the ocean. After the refreshment of the sea I rolled into the center of the small town of El Transito.

(Downtown El Transito)

I asked the first local I saw about a volunteer program that I had seen online which supposedly existed in town. He pointed me to a cafe half a block down, and told me in spanish “You’re lucky the owner is in right now.” I rolled the half block over and found myself into the charming & rustic palapa cafe known as “La Caracola.” 

(Caracola cafe)

On my way in I was greeted by a friendly british girl named Emma. I walked up to the counter and ordered the ‘juice of the day, Passion Fruit (Maracuya). After ordering my drink I walked over to the “take one leave one” library. I had a good book I had just finished reading, “The Meaning of Everything” by Simon Winchester. But I didn’t see anything worthy of trading my book for. Emma caught me looking over at her and her friend’s table, and she introduced me to her friends. That’s how I met two cool lads: Jack from England, and Steve from Scotland. Jack in fact wrote a very cool story about his experiences in El Transito around the time we met. Here’s a link to the story on his blog: Life Through a Different Lens.

I finally managed to get a hold of Terri, the owner of La Caracola, who had been busy with her employees. We sat down to talk about volunteer opportunites, and Emma asked if she could join our chat. It turns out that La Caracola had just taken down their old volunteer house which meant they wouldn’t be able to give me shelter in exchange for volunteer work. I told her that I may be interested in doing volunteer work in exchange for meals but that first I’d need to find a place to stay. She let me know that a real estate agent who lives in town, Aaron, was throwing a bar-b-q  down the block, and that maybe he could offer me something. Excited by this prospect I took off to speak to Aaron.

Down the street from La Caracola was a big event with music at a little comedor. I wasn’t sure if it was 'the bar-b-q’ until I got closer, and saw the Nica Real Estate signs everywhere.  The album '2001' by Dr.Dre was blasting out the speakers. Music that I recall vividly from my teenage years growing up in Los Angeles. I parked my bike along the wall of the comedor. I asked a guy outside who Aaron was, and he pointed to a smiling & dancing charasmatic looking northerner. Aaron had a cap and sunglasses on, and he was tending the bar-b-q. I walked into the comedor. Everyone was wearing ‘Nica Real Estate’ white t-shirts, and they were looking at me when I walked in. I went up to Aaron who gestured at the bar-b-q when he saw me. Before I could even say anything he served me a burger. Even though I don’t generally order meat foods I make exceptions when the food is free. I explained my situation to him briefly, and he said we could talk. He told me that at least he’d let me stay the night, and to enjoy the party. Then he introduced me to his wife Evelyn from Nicaragua, and asked her to get me one of the ‘Nica Real Estate’ t-shirts.

Out of the sheer power of seeking and taking chances, I now had a free place to stay the night. I was also in the middle of a party. I finished the burger, and greeted the local construction workers who were sitting next to me. They worked for Nica Realty. We spent the rest of the party drinking beers together. We talked about their work, Nicaragua, and a bit about my journey’s through Latin America. At the end the timekeeper was offering me work for the standard fare of the workers. I thought it would be cool so I agreed. They said we had to clear it with Aaron, who around this time was taking off. One of the workers offered me a place to sleep at his house. I told him that if Aaron’s offer fell through then I’d take him up on it. As Aaron was pulling away with Evelyn he stopped by the entrance, and put the window of his range rover down. He asked me if I was going to his house. I told him yes, and he explained to me how to ride there. 

(My room @ Aaron's)

Long-story short, after a nice night of festivities, sushi, and meeting some cool residents; I got to crash in Aaron’s temporary mansion. His new house was in construction. The following day Aaron offered me room & board in exchange for helping out a few hours on the construction as well as keeping an eye on his place when he was out & doing store runs. It turned out to be a great deal, and I stuck around El Transito for the next week.

Mansion Life in El Transito:

                                               

With breakfast, lunch, & dinner served, access to a full bar & fridge, huge natural pool, cliffside mansion, and access to ATV’s and motor bikes I had quite the set-up that week. To show my gratitude I was on Aaron’s worksite everyday for at least 4-5 hours.

Aaron's worksite:

On my downtime I’d go to La Caracola cafe to hang out where Emma, Steve, & Jack had jumped in to help Terri get La Caracola jazzed up. Terri had hooked them up with a local family who gave them free lodging and only charged them $10 a day for three home cooked meals a day. In exchange they were volunteering daily @ La Caracola.

Volunteer work @ La Caracola:

(Emma and a friend painting signs & table games)

(Steve building a stone path)

It made me feel good that Terri was covered as I now had my hands full volunteering at Nica Real Estate, thanks to her. I still managed to help out a bit, and I personally collected at leeeeaast 20 of the stones on the new walking path! 

To my pleasant surprise, the Global Goulet’s who I’d met back up north at Finca Jalapa in El Salvador, showed up one day at La Caracola. They decided to stick around this pleasant little town for a while, and they got themselves a volunteering gig for Terri shooting videos for her non-profit organizations. You can check out the videos they made on Terri's website here: Nicafund.org

(Global Goulet's, Emma, El Transito kids, and I @ La Caracola. Photo from: Life Through A Different Lens)

El Transito was idyllic, and the best part was that it was all a surprise to me. 

(El Transito during sunset)

The ICHING was right once again, and I couldn’t have asked for more. Good people, beautiful place, nice surf, work that made me feel good, and to top it off I didn’t have to spend $1 dollar (except for my daily smoothie at La Caracola :). In fact at the end of the workweek Aaron felt that I had done enough to give me a bonus $40. I left El Transito with a surplus. The best part though, as usual, was all the great people I got to share a bit of life with:

(Virginia works for Aaron and cooked me all my meals. With her daughter :)

(Don Ramon is the groundskeeper at the house Aaron was renting. We spent many nights conversing)

(Aaron's construction crew and I)

(Volunteer squad with Terri & Christopher Marlett @ La Caracola)

People not in the photos: Aaron & Evelyn thank you for letting my stay in your home! La Caracola staff: Jamie & Katherine gracias por la buenas vibras! Familia Lopez: Leyder, Leyla, y familia, gracias por la comida y noche en su casa!

All good things must come to an end, and when I finally left El Transito I headed for the capital city of Managua. It's roughly 60k from El Transito. I had lined up a couchsurfing spot to stay at, and so when I got into the city I rolled over to a cafe where I had planned to meet up with my host, Juan Davalos. Juan and I hit it off well, and I got to spend a nice couple of days sorting things out & getting to know a bit of the city. Thanks to Juan who took me for a few spins around town:

(Sandino museum)

  

(Depictions of socialist leaders are common in Managua. Like this one of Hugo Chavez)

(Lake Managua)

Juan is a hardcore dude who is both a final year med-student as well as volunteer firefighter for the Managua fire department. I happened to be in town during the 79th anniversary of the Managua firefighters, and I joined Juan & his girlfriend to the parade.

Juan was able to host me because he was on break from his intensive medical studies/interning. He was going back to school the following week, and so that monday morning I had to move on. A cycling friend of mine was arriving in the city the same day that I had to leave Juan's place, and so I lined up another couchsurfing spot in town.That’s how I met Alex Vanegas:

(Alex, Johannes, and I)

Johannes arrived a day late. Alex & his family allowed us to stay an extra day because of this. I hope I don’t get Alex in trouble by revealing the truth but since he was unsure about his families receptivity of random strangers coming over through couchsurfing, he had us pretend that we had met him back in Guatemala. Regardless of the circumstances his family took us in with open arms. They were so generous that it even made me feel slightly uneasy at times. His mother served me FOUR cooked meals on both days, and she wouldn’t even let me wash my dishes. That's service that I don't get in my own home!

(Alex's mother and I)

(Johannes, Alex's niece, and I)

It turned out that Johanson was on a time crunch to get to the island of Ometepe where he was off to meet back up with his girlfriend Leonie. I had just paid for a two month extension on my visa while in Managua, and so I had time to indulge & explore the country. Ometepe is basically a stones toss away from Costa Rica, and since I still hadn’t completed my farm time in Nicaragua (I like to stop at one in each country), I decided to take a big detour up to the freshness of the mountains where I had at least 3 farms to choose from..

(My detour: Managua to Matagalpa. Maps from http://cycleroute.org)

After one night together in the capital, Johansson and I parted ways. He went south towards Ometepe island and eventually Costa Rica, and I headed north east towards Matagalpa and the mountains of Nicaragua.

Surprisingly, I had a relatively easy time that day considering that I peddled over 100 kilometers, and climbed roughly 500 meters on the way. I made it further than I had plotted. The town I had aimed for didn’t spark much inspiration, and the few people I spoke to didn’t made me feel very welcome either. Including a lady that gave me ugly faces and farted several times as I tried to ask her some questions. Good thing I had left Managua early and I had pushed hard on the way. I still had plenty of time to keep trucking and find a better place. Highlight of the ride was stopping on the side of the highway to greet some new friends who waved me down to talk. They also filled up my water bottles, told me to come back through on my way down, and we took this photo together:

I made it to the last big town before my eventual destination of Matagalpa, the town of Sebaco. I still had an hour or two to find a place to sleep, and I got directions to the fire department..

(Sebaco fire dept.)

(My bed at the fire station)

The Adventures To El Yunque

The next morning I was up early on my way to Matagalpa only 25k away. I made it there well within morning hours and went straight to a coffee shop to get wifi. I checked up on my emails to the farms nearby. Two of them had confirmed with me. One was higher up the mountains near another city called Jinotega, and the other was somewhere outside Matagalpa in a place so off the beaten track that I couldn’t even find it on google maps. I decided I’d check the one outside Matagalpa first, but first I needed a little R & R after my mountain trek in the Nicaraguan heat. A day of rest before a week or two of farm-work isn’t a bad idea. I snooped around for cheap hostels, and found a dorm room at 'La Buena Onda' for $5 which included free coffee all day plus had a chill vibe. 

The next morning I was up with the sun in the hopes of getting cranking early. After breakfast I went to a call center, and dialed the owner of Finca El Yunque for instructions on how to get there. The caretaker of El Yunque replied, and he highly suggested that I take the bus. He told me that it leaves from the Matagalpa bus terminal at 2pm. He told me to take the bus to La Esperanza which was as far as the bus would take me. From there I’d be 6 miles from San Antonio De Upa where the farm was located. I naively told Miguel that I’d bike it, and I went back to the hostel to do some routing. 

Looking up the towns that Miguel told me nothing seemed to be congruent. The town where he said the bus would take me to was nowhere near where ‘San Antonio De Upas’ was on google maps, not to mention that there were several San Antonio’s, two Esperanzas,  and all in a space of roughly 200 square miles of mountains with hundreds of long dirt roads winding throughout. I certainly didn’t want to get lost in the middle of some desolate canyon in Nicaragua. That’s when I concluded that the bus would indeed be the best decision.

At 2pm I was on the bus to La Esperanza, and boy did I have no clue of what I was getting myself into. The bus left the paved highway about 10k after leaving the terminal. Little by little people trickled out of the packed bus until it was comfortable. I was enjoying the views of the rolling hills and all the wooden homes out in the deep country. A couple of hours went by before I started getting a bit tired of the bumpy ride. At one point the bus pulled over to the side of the road, and the driver & helpers all jumped out. They began filling the back of the bus up with stones. All the passengers seemed not to mind, and I could only guess that maybe the driver was going to use them for construction or something. This took about 30 minutes. We finally got moving again, but it wasn’t long until the bus driver pulled over once more. Now they were taking the rocks and filling in parts of the road with them. Suddenly it all made sense. We stopped another half a dozen times to aid the muddy road with rocks. Passengers started helping in order to speed up the process, and I even helped place a few rocks around. As time went on we kept pushing further & further away from civilization. When the sun started going down I couldn’t believe how far we had gone into dirt road lands, we were still moving, and I started feeling a bit anxious. Especially since I still had 6 miles to peddle when we got there, and the sky was almost black.

When we finally arrived in La Esperanza a group of people were waiting for their family and/or deliveries brought on board. People were curious about me and the bike. They already knew that I was going to the farm, as I wasn’t the first european-looking person on my way to El Yunque. A couple of guys helped keep my bike steady as I loaded it up. We chit-chatted a bit about my trip, and they were excited to hear that I had biked down from California. Before I headed out one of the guys asked me in Spanish,”But you aren’t going to leave for the farm now are you?” I asked him what other options I had, and he happily invited me to stay at his house. He told me that he would be staying at his wife’s house that night, and so his house would be empty. Him and the others proceeded to warn me about a Frenchman who arrived on the same bus roughly 2 months prior. The unlucky chap tried walking to El Yunque at night, the same way that I was about to, and he was stripped of all his belongings including his clothes. 

I thought best to take my new friend, Yesser's, suggestion and sleep in the house he offered me. I rolled my bike behind him to his house on a hillside. It was dark and had no light. A rustic yet clean, simple, and efficient small home. I got all my things sorted, he told me how to work the keys, and then finally asked me if I was hungry. I admitted that I was a bit hungry. He told me to follow him to his wife’s house where he could fix me up with some food. He suggested I take boots which I didn’t have. The walk was quite muddy and hilly but eventually we made it to another hillside home. This one was a bit bigger. Yesser’s family in law was large, and they were all curious about my travels, & stories. We had a nice talk, and I was a bit embarrassed when the food showed up just for me. The family insisted that they’d all eaten and it was no big deal. Wow was it good! Rice, beans, cheese, and a green plantain. The food was so fresh that it must have all been from their harvest. After dinner Yesser walked me back to my little house for the night. The next morning I took this photos:

(La Esperanza)

(My home for a night in La Esperanza)

(Yesser and I)

The six miles to El Yunque was a beautiful, hilly, lush, & muddy venture. 

(Views from the road)

When I finally made it to El Yunque I was greeted at the front gate by one of the workers who eyed me in an uncanny way, and then he shooed me along a path into the property. I reached a house which I could only guess was the owner, Miguel’s. I called out for him and a voice of someone much older than I had expected replied. He told me he’d be right out. After a brief wait a limping stalky man in his 50’s or 60’s appeared at the door and greeted me. He indeed was much older than the 20-30 year old guy on Miguel’s workaway profile photo. Not and alarming thing but a bit misleading I suppose. He offered me coffee after which he told me that he had to leave the farm immediately in an unprecedented change of events. He also was taking the only other volunteer who wanted to leave after only being there for four days. My expectation was that I’d be at an interesting sounding farm with some other people my age. Miguel, the owner, who I assumed through his photo was a young dude and who somehow had a large plot of land in the middle of rural Nicaragua, and a volunteer girl he had told me about in our emails. So much for expectations. I was now looking at being completely alone besides the one caretaker who's cabin was at least half a kilometer up a muddy & narrow hillside path, and some workers who had given me a strange vibe to start.

(My solitary cabin @ El Yunque)

I sat down at the table outside the cabin in the most rural place I’d ever been to. A feeling of solitude like I’ve never felt before came upon me. The caretaker came down the path to check up on me about an hour later. At least he was a joyful guy who lifted my spirits a bit. He gave me a padlock, and told me to keep my things inside & lock the cabin when I was working. Not the most comforting information. I asked him how the food situation was, and he told me that I could buy food from the store in town and cook with the wood stove. There was a pile of semi-dry wood under the stove. I asked if they provided any meals, and he basically just laughed. He said that I could take some of anything that grew on the farm. Then he asked me if I was ready to start working or if I needed one day of rest. Being that I didn’t quite like the fact that I’d be cooking & paying for my own meals on top of working for them; I told him that I’d take the day for rest. Besides I hadn’t even had breakfast yet. It took me about two hours to make oatmeal with the moist fire wood. Had I had instant oats cold water would have sufficed, this time I had whole oats.

As I was finally eating my oatmeal, the worker who had initially greeted me at the front gate, came by with large bags of grass feed for the cows. The cows were my neighbors and there were about 4-5 of them in stalls near my cabin. The worker seemed amused about my presence, and he inquired about what I was eating, and how far I’d come on the bike. We chit-chatted a bit before he went back to his duties. Something about the guy put me off. After finishing my meal I tried my best to settle myself into my new environment. I read some of my book, I played some guitar, I cleaned my bike a bit, and I put my things on the shelves inside. I tried to keep a positive attitude, and I figured I may as well go buy food to cook for the next couple of days. I went to the store which was operated out of a house in town. The store owners were peculiar and treated me with a hint of suspicion. I went back to the farm, and on the way back I ran into the caretaker who was smiling as usual. I asked him when Miguel was coming back and he replied that Miguel wouldn’t be back for at least another 15 days. He told me that Miguel usually lives in his house in Matagalpa anyways. This info was slightly off putting as Miguel didn’t even tell me that he wouldn’t be back for the duration of my stay.

I trotted back to my cabin nestled in a little canyon. At the cabin the smell of cow hung in the air. All I could hear was cows and nature. It was so tranquil that I had to get creative in order to not go crazy by the lack of stimulation. I watched a cow pee and another cow drink the pee as if it were coming out of a fountain. A couple hours before dark I began cooking dinner. By the time it was dark I was eating dinner. It took me four hours to cook two meals, and almost all the wood was gone. I couldn’t imagine how I was going to do farm work for five hours a day, and keep myself from being hungry at the same time. I felt alone and further from any degree of comfort I’d ever experienced before. I’m ok with farm work, in fact I enjoy it. I’m ok with being the only volunteer, in fact many times that’s been the case at other farms. I’m ok with cooking my own food, as I do at least once everyday on my trip. Something was bothering me about this place though. It was the utter solitude that I was expected to operate my functions under. At every other farm it’s been a community/family operation. At every other farm there was sharing & caring. At every other farm I was around other people, even if it was just the farmer and I. My birthday was two days away and I couldn’t fathom passing it covered in mud/cow shit, hungry, and struggling to keep myself fed in between working by myself in this vast piece of land. Especially since it was for people who were giving me nothing in return except for the ‘opportunity’ to be there.

I decided that I didn’t want to stay, and the thought of leaving immediately made me feel better inside. Strange sounds made me extremely paranoid all night in my desolate little cabin. The machete was my teddy bear that night. I was up at 3:30 am in order to try to make myself breakfast, do the three trips it took to get all my things to the front gate, bike 6 miles, and all before 6am when the only bus left Esperanza for Matagalpa and the rest of the world. Again the cooking took forever and then the wood ran out. I ended up eating warm pancake batter with plantain chunks, and then I hurried up and down the muddy path to get all my things outta there. By the time I was finally ready the sky was lit, and I knew it was at least 5am. The caretaker caught me on my way out and he was surprised to see me with all my things. I could tell he was upset that I was leaving, and I explained to him why. He understood, and he even agreed that they need to up the amenities as this had happened other times before. I feel like he was a good guy, and that maybe even we could have had some enjoyable times together, and that I would have probably learned some things from him. That was the only thing I feel I missed out on. He told me I wouldn’t make the Esperanza bus but that about 10k’s further was a bigger town called Los Robles where there are at least 3 buses a day to Matagalpa. I thanked him for the info and took off for Los Robles.

(Bomba on the way to Los Robles)

I got to Los Robles around 10am. My shifter cable for my rear derailleur had frayed & then completely exploded rendering my shifting abilities to zero in the back gears. Partially for that reason it took me about 5 hours to do 15 kilometers. I had to walk up all the hills. In Los Robles I found out that the next bus wasn’t leaving until 12, so I had some hours to kill. I asked around for a comedor and the locals pointed me to a small house. At the house there were three ladies inside cutting up a huge portion of pork meat on a table in the center of the room. I asked for a plate of gallo pinto w/out meat. They pulled up a chair for me and I sat in the corner awaiting my food. Soon a heaping plateful of rice, beans, a full avocado, and a big piece of cheese arrived. It was better than any gallo pinto I’ve had before or since. When I was done I asked for a coffee. To my surprise they only charged me $35 cordobas for all of that! In other words just over a dollar. That’s almost half the price of the average meal in Nicaragua, which is already one of the most affordable countries to get a meal in Central America. I gave them $50 Cordobas, since it was excellent, made with love, and they didn’t try to overcharge me because I look like a ‘gringo.’ Besides that’s only $2 and it was one of the best $2 I’ve ever spent on a meal in all my life. 

After eating I went over to a pulperia (store) right by the bus which was to take me back to civilization. I got all my things into ‘bus mode,’ and I waited the rest of the time at the pulperia talking with some locals.

(Bomba in 'bus mode')

(The bus that took me back to civilization)

Soon I was riding on another bus up and down the seemingly endless dirt roads which eventually led back to the highway. I was back in Matagalpa by 3pm, and after replacing my shifter cable with a new one I went back to the cafe to use the wifi. I messaged the other farm/community in Jinotega, and I told them that I’d be on my way there. Then I went to the fire department and locked in a place to sleep the night.

(Bomba @ Matagalpa Fire Dept.)

(My camp @ the fire dept)

The following day was my birthday. I was going to ride up to La Biosfera in Jinotega but Bomba started acting up again. This time it was a more serious problem. My cranks would spin with the rear wheel so that when I went down hills I had to get my legs out of the way because my peddles would be spinning round like crazy. I ended up being stalled for two whole days. This happened on a Sunday so all the mechanics were closed, and the following day the mechanics took all day to get Bomba back to life. They scrambled for pieces and weren’t sure if they’d be able to fix the problem. Thankfully when I went back at the end of the day they’d gotten Bomba back to life. The following day I was able to continue on my trusty two wheels.

The ride up to Jinotega was steep and uphill the whole way. The beautiful scenery of mountains throughout kept me in good spirits, and I made it La Biosfera in good time. After all the struggle, bike problems, climbing mountains, etc.. I was relieved to arrive in La Biosfera. I immediately felt that I had reached the place that I was looking for. La Biosfera has a charm about it. It’s in a prime location overlooking a valley, has a community feel, and I connected right away with the owner Suzanne. Her birthday is also on August 2nd, and that was a nice synchronicity to start out our relationship. I got in touch with Suzanne through the bicycle touring website: warmshowers. That is not usually the way that I get in touch with my farms/community volunteering gigs but it was nice because Suzanne gave me two free days because of it!

(Dinning table @ La Biosfera)

(The Bunker @ La Biosfera)

(Deck @ La Biosfera)

('La Tuani' Kitchen @ La Biosfera)

(Herb garden & Nursery @ La Biosfera)

(Bunks @ La Biosfera)

There were several other volunteers/intentional living people staying at La Biosfera when I arrived, and since I’d been traveling alone since Managua it was nice to be in a community of people. During my time in La Biosfera quite a mix of folks went through including a Quebecois farming couple, Miles a yogi from Colorado who’d just gotten back from India, Sebastian a Colombian filmmaker who was building a house/sound studio in La Biosfera, his soundmixing assistant Andres from Costa Rica, Henryk & Krzysztof two polish touring bikers, Kwasi a Trinidadian who was an excellent cook and also Suzanne’s boyfriend, Oz Suzanne’s nephew from Buffalo who’d been living a while at La Biosfera with his Argentinian girlfriend Manu, and others who popped in and out. There was community yoga in the mornings, we ate all of our meals as a family, the work was nice & fullfilling, and the location was fresh & beautiful. I liked the place so much that I ended up spending three weeks there. These are some of the projects I worked on in my time there:

Built this frame for vines in the nursery:

Dug this ditch to direct the grey water flow to the cafetal:

Transplanted these baby avocado, coffee, and lemon trees:

Also helped haul lumber out of the forrest, prepare meals, and with cleaning.

Aside from the work there were many things to do in our downtime. There were several instruments which were open for playing, there were forrest trails one could explore, a bat cave, a pool, and all in all just a nice space to live & relax in. Not to mention the food was healthy and superb! 

(Swimming pool & front yard overlooking canyon)

(Cross point & trailhead to the bat cave) 

(Typical meal @ La Biosfera)

I thoroughly enjoyed my time there, and like any good place I’ve been I left with new friends:

(Suzanne's nephew Oz)

(Miles, Suzanne, Henryk, and I)

Sometimes, when I like a place and a place likes me, I encounter a certain magnetism that wont allow me to leave as promptly as I plan. This happened at La Biosfera about 3 times before I actually left. One of the times I actually said my goodbye's, rode away, and about half a kilometer after leaving my peddle fell off. I had to go back. It took an extra 2 days to actually go, and I was luckily able to leave on the bike because my peddle was not going to go back into crank arm as the thread was completely eaten up. I found a welder in Jinotega who made me a special nut which fastened to a bolt, and he rethread the peddle to be able to fasted to the nut. It’s a thing of beauty that is still in use as I write this today! 

(The bolt that saved my drive train. Made for me by a Jinotegan 'Tornillero')

The alternative would have been to get the chain rings, crank set, & peddles replaced. A costly job, and I probably wouldn’t have been able to find the kind of quality bike parts up there to take me the distance.

I finally left the Jinotega area towards Granada, and I took an alternate highway back to the lowlands which took me deep out into the Nicaraguan countryside. 

(Taking the country road, no fun peddling the same highway twice! Map generated by www.cycleroute.org)

I spent some interesting nights in Muy Muy, and El Empalme de Boaco.

(Rolling in to Muy Muy)

The beauty of being out away from the beaten track is the amazing & affordable food, and friendly locals. One of my favorite meals from the Nica country side is Guirila con Cuajada:

(Gürila con cujada, corn pancake w/fresh cheese. Photo from Google image search)

It’s a nice plate for less than $1, and with two or three I’d be satisfied for a bit. 

The morning that I left El Empalme de Boaco I was intending to ride all the way to Granada where I’d finally regroup with some touring cyclist friends. About 15k into the day my peddle fell out again. This time it completely disassembled, and all that was left was the peddles axle. I waddled my way to the next town where to my luck there was a bus coming shortly to a bigger town. Two buses later I was at the busy/dirty bus terminal in Masaya. I bought some bike peddles from a little makeshift bike store. Upon asking the locals I found out that Granada was only 20k’s away and all downhill. It was early so I just biked it with the messed up peddle.

About an hour later I was rolling into Granada. I had some expectations about this place since I’d heard about it quite a bit. It was dirtier & less pleasant than I had imagined but then again it was a city with an authentic Nicaraguan flavor, and had its charms. I saw a place with happy hour beer offer, and it had wifi so I plugged into the cyber world to find my friends. Right when I signed on to the internet a cheerful guy from the U.S. came up to me. He pulled up the chair across from me and invited himself to my table. Initially I was slightly put off because I just wanted to find my friends & put my load away. Ironically he was a touring cyclist himself who knew my friends & exactly where they were staying. We had a couple beers together, and then I took off to Lucy’s hostel where the bikers were.

(Lucy's Hostal. Granada, Nicaragua)

I walked into Lucy’s hostel and after 3-4 months of riding parallel to my friend David we finally reconnected again. David had been around Nicaragua a while, and he was with a pack of touring cyclists. At last I was guaranteed to have some riding companions after being on the road alone since El Salvador.

(Bike crew @ Lucy's Hostal. L to R: Will, Aimee, Nic, David, me, David)

We stayed a couple days in Granada assembling & organizing the next leg of the journey. I got the new peddle I bought in Masaya welded to the special bolt I had made for me in the mountains. I was back in business. David had been riding with two extra bikes since Guatemala when Ana & Cheto (the original riders) dropped out. He had found other traveller’s to jump on the bikes and transport them little by little. One bike was already on Ometepe island nearby. It had been ridden there by our Chilean friend Jorge, and the other spare bike was with David in Granada. Another traveller had helped him transport it from Leon to Granada. Through the dating phone app ‘Tinder’ David met a Finnish girl, Emma, who was living & volunteering in Granada. Emma had the weekend off and decided to take a ‘little’ bike ride with us to Ometepe. Aside from that we had a nice place to hang out with affordable food and low cost lodging ($4 p night) thanks to the gracious owner of Lucy’s hostel, Lucy.

(From L to R. Lucy's grandson, David, Joshua, Lucy, and I)

That weekend the bike crew took off in a little pack, and we headed for Ometepe island.

(Right before rolling out of Granada)

It was the first time I’d ridden with other people in months. It felt nice having the company. Our first time touring cyclist from Finland, Emma, did exceptionally well on her first day of 70 kilometers to the ferry.

(Ferry on the way to Ometepe island)

We arrived in Ometepe just before night. Getting off the boat I saw a colorful traveling bus parked by the ferry terminal. I knew right way that I’d seen that bus before. In a really nice synchronicity it happened to be a rainbow brothers bus from Arcata California who’d I’d met back in northern Cali a couple years back. Andy had let me stay a couple nights at a community house he was living in back when I was biking down the California coast, and we ran into each other again on Ometepe island. Since lodging was expensive in the ferry town of Moyogalpa we camped right by his bus by the ferry terminal. That night we hung out and played guitar with Andy and his girlfriend.

(Camp by the ferry terminal in Moyogalpa, Ometepe)

The next morning we took off for the other side of the island where some of our biking friends were already waiting for us. It's also where David’s second spare bike had been left by Jorge. Emma had done exceptionally well on her first day but the next day when the sores kicked in, and we had to climb roughly 10k’s of volcano, she couldn’t handle it. Luckily Andy was driving by, and I managed to get her a ride to our destination in El Zopilote.

(Entrance/bus of El Zopilote)

We rolled into Zopilote a couple hours later. Upon rolling in we found out that our friends were camping at a locals house down the road. That’s how we met Pedro and his family. These amazing locals opened there home to us, and allowed us to camp on their property.

(Biker camp @ Pedro's house on Ometepe)

Our time in Ometepe had just begun, and quite the adventures we had in this magical place:

(Hiking to the waterfall in San Ramon)

Hiking to see the petroglyphs and locate the local 'moonshine' made from corn - Casuza:

(Photo from August's facebook)

(Petroglyphs. Photo from August's facebook)

(Petroglyphs. Photo from August's facebook)

   

(Hiking up to the hidden communities. Photo from August's facebook)

(In the end we were successful. That's not water in the bottle.. Photo from August's facebook)

A week slipped by quickly on the double peaked lake island of Ometepe. By the next week all of our cycling friends had already left. Only David and I remained at Pedro’s house. We started feeling the ever slight bit of stress we placed on the family. It became apparent to us that we had to get moving soon or find another place to stay. Although we had gotten along with the whole family, and had we lined Pedro up with a paid tour up Maderas volcano:

(Following Pedro up Volcano Maderas)

(The tour of volcano Maderas. I was the translator)

(Chilling at the lake in the volcano crater w/ Pedro & company)

Although we exchanged stories with his father, brother, and nephew, although I helped them out one day on their rice field; Pedro has a large family with two little kids. Pedro and his wife Erika have a little two year old Genesis. 

(Genesis)

Pedro’s nephew has an 8-9 month old as well. Although they’d never admit it we could feel that perhaps some of the members of the family wanted their space back. You can only have two hairy vagrant men living on your back porch for so long after all. Unless we we were willing to make a more serious commitment to the family, which we couldn’t. The pressure was starting to be apparent and so in order to leave on the best terms possible we had to go. On top of all that my time in Nicaragua was thinning out.

Our only challenge was finding two travellers who’d be willing to peddle David’s spare bikes to San Juan del Sur. San Juan is a relatively short distance from Ometepe, also relatively flat. I have a friend who lives in San Juan del Sur, and San Juan is right by the Costa Rica border, so it was a perfect point to transport the bikes to. If we could find the people..

 Luckily, plenty of cosmic travelers were flowing through Ometepe that week who were willing to bike with us. We got five offers in a few days. 

(Cosmic brothers on Ometepe. L to R - Rio, August, Ernesto, Isaia, David, & Fabricio. Photo from August's facebook)

We took the offer from the guys who were first ready to hit the road. That’s how we got rolling with two jugglers, Ernesto & August…

Juggling On The Back Roads

I’ll admit it, I have a bit of an obsession with maps & routing my tours. So when we got going I insisted on being the navigator. Since I much prefer the scenic route to the main highway, I prefer following the curves of the earth to taking the straight shot, since I always aim for the most awesome geographical way to go, and I don’t like doing the same road twice… We were in for some adventuring, because we were on powerful spots of mama earth!

(Ometepe island. Looking at volcano Conception from volcano Maderas)

First off was getting to Moyogalpa; the ferry town. David & I had done an ’S’ shape on the island when we first biked from Moyogalpa to El Zopilote. Then we did a little tour around volcano Maderas for fun. When leaving the obvious way to go, in my estimation, was the longer unpaved way around Volcano Conception. That way we’d complete the second circle on the island, and ultimately a figure 8; the symbol of infinity! 

(Tour around Ometepe. Not quite a figure 8 but close enough! Map created w/ www.cycleroute.org)

Even though we had some bike problems early in the day which resulted in us buying a tasty wood-cooked meal from the bike mechanics wife in Altagracia, we had an easy time of going around the dirt way. A bit of humidity sprinkled on us, one of the guys got a flat, but in the end the flat was was resolved quickly, and the rain never got serious. All in all it was enjoyable being off the main road, and quite a sight we had of the back side of Volcano Conception:

(Riding to the ferry around Conception. Photo from August's facebook)

(Volcano Conception)

We cruised into Moyogalpa in short time, and soon later we were on a boat back to the isthmus of Central America.

(Leaving Ometepe)

We touched down in Rivas, and we went straight to a little spot for empanadas. The last time we’d been around we were told we'd get a free one if we came back. I can’t remember if she actually followed through with her promise but here’s what happened: 

August managed to get a deal on a more affordable plate w/out meat. Gallo pinto (rice & beans), tajadas (banama chips), and salad.  David & Ernesto opted for August’s special plate, and after a pause in my decision making process the guys sweated me for ‘being like a girl,’ and taking too long. This is what had been occurring in my mind:

I had really enjoyed the empanada the last time, and I had been thinking about going back ever since. Plus the lady was proud of her food, and the empanada is certainly one of her specialities. I like to support people and their talents, and if I can do so while eating a tasty empanada thats beautiful. However, I have a rule of choosing non-meat options when there’s a worthy substitute. I certainly could have conjured this plate up the last time I was around, but I take my rule with exceptions at times. It’s harder to ignore my reality when the other three dudes I was with were following suit with my supposed rule.

Being distracted when in the middle of an important thought, being teased at the same time, pressured to rush my decision, and involving food when I was hungry resulted in a verbal jab comeback of mine. People can be caught off guard by the intensiveness of my alternate sides. Me included. I’m rather laid back, calm, and easy tempered for the most part. However, live everyone, I have a fire deep inside which can be activated, and sometimes when I'm not quite centered activation occurs. It’s been something that has gotten me into trouble in the past, but even today sometimes I’ll lose grip and say/do things that get me in situations I soon wished I’d avoided. It happened this time. Then I choose August’s veg-discount plate. We all ate a bit silently after that..

After eating I again insisted on being the route picker, and I led us to Playa Gigante where a warmshowers host had accepted my request to stop by. According to my map and Master Google there’s a road along the coast from Playa Gigante to San Juan Del Sur. The idea was to take the coast road. Here’s the elevation profile of this supposed road to prove I’m not crazy:

(This road is on googlemaps and on my paper map, but don't try to take it! Map created w/ www.cycleroute.org)

With our stomachs full we headed to Playa Gigante. Darkness was creeping on us before reaching our destination. We slept at the church in one of the towns before Playa Gigante. Early in the morning we took off. We made it to Playa Gigante with time to take a dip in the ocean, and then to help open Kechita's comedor for breakfast. We were told by the locals that Kechita's is the only economic option in town.

(Breakfast at Kechita's)

While waiting for our meal we conversed with some of Kechita’s family members. One of them had never heard of the road we were planning to take, and another one vaguely remembered it. The meal was tasty and abundant for the price. August had gotten us another veggie plate discount.

After eating we rolled over to our warmshower's host, John's, place. John owns a hostel, restaurant/bar, fishing tour company, rental houses, as well as his his own three story palapa home all on one big lot. The first floor of his home is actually a volunteer lodge complete with two dorm rooms, a full kitchen, and a large patio all around the house. It was a sweet spot we landed in with other cool travelers living/volunteering there. John left right away when we arrived so we didn’t have a chance to get to know him. In the meantime his cousin was sort of running the volunteer program. He allowed me to do some volunteering in exchange for food. We stayed a couple days. 

(Hanging out in playa gigante)

The morning when we left I couldn’t find the hook which secures my front pannier to the rack. The guys were getting impatient, and I left in a bad mood since I lost the hook. Using string is much more annoying when having to take the pannier on and off. The night before, the guys had had an argument with the lady who ran the only convenience store in town, and Kechita’s was closed. They insisted on leaving town w/out eating and assured me that we’d find food on the road. “Plus, it’s only a 30 K day,” David said. Peddling on an empty stomach and being rushed bother me, and with the hook situation to add, I was a bit snappy that morning.

After turning off the highway to the dirt road which was going to take us to San Juan, things started getting more and more rural. I stopped at the only store in the last little town to buy some bread. Anything to take my mind off the fact that I had no fuel in my stomach was good. The guys opted to go without food or water, I filled up my water bottle in the stores well, and then it started raining. We waited under the cover of the store for the rain to stop.Soon later we took off, and about 2-3 k’s later I realized that I’d left my only water bottle at the store. The guys gave me a chance to go back and get it. I chose not to. That proved to be a costly decision..

(Taking the back roads)

The beginning of the road was great, and it was lovely to cruise on a jungle dirt road all to ourselves. For the most part the people on our path had seemed to agree that we’d get to San Juan del Sur going down that road. We had no reason to worry, even if some people had never heard of it. It wasn’t until we reached a split in the road that things started getting peculiar. There was a house right where the road split, and the shirtless machete wielding home-owner walked over to us in a concerned gait. His machete ready to strike at any moment. He walked right up to David who was ahead of our pack. Getting a bit closer than comfortable he demanded what we wanted. David asked the man which road would take us to San Juan del Sur. The man scoffed at us, “Children, go back the way you came, and take the highway.” We told him not to underestimate us. He told us that the road to the right would take us to San Juan del Sur, but that it was not a good road. He assured us that we wouldn’t be able to make it. Blinded by pride and my past achievements I butted in, and basically I told the guy “We’re young men, we can handle it!” and I took off for the road to the right. David followed up quickly, and more hesitantly August & Ernesto behind.

Things pretty much went up a notch in extremeness after that point. The road suddenly became a series of intensely steep climbs followed by equally steep descends. The man was right about the diminishing quality of the road too. We weren’t able to peddle most of the hills, and going down we had to go extremely slow to avoid all the crevasses and rocks. After completing about 7 of these in a row, August shot passed me on one a downhill. I was impressed to see him confidently take the hill like that, since I was going down like a grandpa. He cleared most of it but right at the bottom his bike turned out of place, and he flew to the ground. This was the result:

(His leg cuts were worse)

August had some deep cuts, and he was bleeding quite a bit. Thankfully, David had all of the first aid for this kind of injury since he was still tending his own wounds from a spill he had earlier in the month. We were unsure of what to do at this point. We had already trekked a good distance towards San Juan Del Sur. Going back was not an easy decision on this type of road. We had no idea what the road going forward looked like, and as far as we could see we were facing yet another monster climb. David suggested that one of us goes with a light bike to get a ride for August as the rest of us wait. Right at that moment, August finished the last sip of water that we collectively had. None of us had eaten enough, and we were all very thirsty. With the kind of exercise we were doing, in the kind of heat we were in, we were all getting dehydrated. Like I said we had no water or food, and we were out in the boonies..

The thought of waiting was less appealing than pushing forth, even for the injured August. We kept trekking, and the challenges kept rising. The road went up and down steeply a few more times. Finally we reached a big open space. It looked like people hadn’t been there for a while. There was no sign of the road continuing. This is when panic tempted me. I had to breath deeply to calm myself, and I even let out some yells of desperation. My mouth was dry, and I barely could muster any saliva.  I felt a little dizzy, and my stomach churned. There was no use in getting angry at anyone else because we were all in this together. Survival mode set in and things got serious. We found a single track path, half eaten by mother nature, that led forward. We contemplated returning versus continuing on mother-nature’s eaten road. Finally we decided to take the road as we couldn’t be too much further. Fifty meters down that path David found a puddle of rainwater by some rocks. This is the first and only time that I’ve ever been in a situation where we were actually desperate enough to use a water filter. Thank you Sawyer water filters!

(Thanks to David's Sawyer water filter we had holy water!)

(Ernesto filtering puddle water)

We paused to filter and drink water for the next thirty minutes. When one is out of water, one truly appreciates the wonder of water. After quenching our thirst our morale rose once again, and we pushed forward with enthusiasm. Even though the road continued to deteriorate, and the climbs didn’t let off, the power of water kept us going. David had gone a bit ahead of us, and from a distance we heard his calls. We took this as a good sign and pushed harder. We caught up to David who was waiting for us at a split in the road. He said, “The bad news is both roads lead to one very steep hill, and the good news is once we get there there’s a gate, and I saw a house in the distance.”

Two by two we helped each other get our bikes up the hill to the really steep hill. There was a gate lining a property that went up the really steep hill. When we got to the steep road we realized that it was eaten by plants and baby trees. The guys said it was my turn to go explore the road, and I went to see if we could get to the house that way. I left my bike and I walked about a half kilometer up that road. The road got so bad that eventually there was no road, just a part where the nature was slightly less thick. There was no way that we’d be able to get through that terrain with our bikes. I went back down to tell the unfortunate news to my friends. David led us to the spot from where we could see the house in the distance. From that spot there was a little walking trail that led to a small beach. There was a long rock cove between the small beach and the next beach where the house was situated. There were also some boats in the bay with people, and we tried to get their attention to no avail. 

Tired, hungry, and fed up, David got all of his things down the walking path and pre-committed himself to crossing over the rock cove. I was being stubborn and wanted to confirm with people on the other side first whether or not there’d actually be a road from over there. David went first, and when he got back he confirmed that there was indeed a road. So the slow trek across the cove began, and it was quite the finale to our adventure trail.

(The end of the road)

(Transporting our bikes/things across a rock cove)

We had to carry our things little by little across slippery rocks while timing our passage between the wave sets so that the ocean didn’t sweep us out to sea with our things.The tide was going up so time was running out. People on boat tours relaxing on the beach stared curiously at us as we transported luggage & bicycles out of the brush and across the rock cove. I was the last one to get my things across because I had waited for the confirmation. This was the most extreme terrain I have ever transported my bicycle across. The road had ended but we created our own path, and in the end we succeeded through the sheer force of perseverance.

Despite our victory at the end of a long day, the energy at camp wasn’t positive. The day had wore on the good humor of my companions, and surprisingly the only one besides me who wasn’t angry was the injured August. Even though we had arrived at a pristine & beautiful beach, the caretakers of the property had allowed us to camp there for the night, and they even prepared us a delicious seafood soup; my friends David & Ernesto were not stoked. They blamed me for all the troubles they’d endured. Luckily, the day had ended on a positive note, because the tensions had risen so high that any other outcome to the day would have meant a potentially ugly fight. As the seafood soup settled in our stomachs, and the beautiful sunset on Playa Blanca pleased our senses, the tensions were calmed. 

(Sunset on playa blanca. Photo from August's facebook)

To complete this power day we camped under heavy rain that night. One last challenge faced us on our Nicaraguan Adventure trail, and that was the next morning leaving Playa Blanca. There was indeed a road that left the beach, what we hadn’t been told was that the first 1-2 kilometers was a hill at least at a 60% grade. It’s good to get the blood pumping early in the morning. After heart-attack hill, and what we’d endured the day before, the rest of the dirt road to San Juan were as easy as eating pie.

We rolled into San Juan del Sur in the AM hours. The tensions had disappeared between us, and we cruised through town like glorious crusaders from the olden days. The road had been hard-fought and won! After stopping at a medical facility to get August’s wounds taken care of, we located & rolled to my good friend Chetana’s house in town.

(Chilling @ Chetana's. Photo from Chetana's facebook)

Chetana is a rainbow sister I met on Vancouver Island during the World Rainbow gathering in 2013. In a cosmic synchronicity she had hosted my brother Sunny and his cycling crew, through her old roommate, back when they’d been by months earlier:

(L to R - Chetana, Hippo, Yazmin (Chetana' ex roomate), Sunny)

I’d been in touch with Chetana since that time, and this was a spot I’d planned on stopping at for a while. Chetana’s was the perfect spot to end my time in Nicaragua. Between hanging out with her little son Orion:

(Orion around the time of my visit. Photo from Chetana's facebook)

Catching waves with Chetana & her surfing crew:

(Playa Maderas surf)

(Chetana's neighborhood surf crew: Gerard & Kori)

and the family vibes:

(Dinner @ Chetana's. L to R - Rio, Aimee, David, Chetana, Nic. Photo from Aimee's facebook)

I would have stayed longer had my visa not been running out. Yeah, I was close enough to Costa Rica to go and come back in one day, and get a 90 day recharge on my time in Nica. Most of my cyclist friends who were in town at the time had done this. But I gotta keep moving unless I can sustain myself in a place. Despite there being at least three other traveling cyclists in town, I peddled off for Costa Rica alone. My time riding with friends was short-lived, and the solo road was once again my destiny. But not to worry, I was off to go explore rich coast; Costa Rica!

(Animal X'ing! in Costa Rica)