Friends and Ferries in Nicaragua

After a day and two nights spent relaxing on the beach, I was refreshed and ready to continue exploring Nicaragua. My next stop would be Granada, a colonial-era city and major tourist destination located on the edge of Lake Nicaragua (Cocibolca). The pleasant ride took around two and a half hours, including a surprisingly easy ride through the outer edges of the capital, Managua. I arrived at Oasis, my hostel for the next two days, and as I got off the bike, heard an unmistakably endearing raspy engine sound behind me. Turning, I found an old, white VW Beetle pulling up behind me, roof full of luggage and seats full of five men and women who looked to be around my age. As they piled out, I jokingly remarked that I wasn't the only one making an interesting road trip, and we struck up a conversation while unloading our various vehicles and getting registered. It turned out that all five were from New Zealand, that one of them had been traveling around Central America for the last three months, her boyfriend (the driver) and the other three had flown out to meet her in San Jose, and they were ferrying the Beetle to San Juan del Sur as a favor to another friend of theirs. Interesting trip indeed!

Once I got settled at Oasis and got the Twin situated in a corner of the hostel, I went out to explore downtown Granada, and walked into an absolute madhouse. The Parque Central and waterfront were packed with people, there was a band playing next to the lake, and groups of men on horseback were riding around the area. It might actually have been the largest crowd I'd been in since starting out from Nashville, and while I don't mind crowds, I was getting a slightly lawless vibe from the whole thing that had me on edge. As I circled back through the Parque Central on my way to find some dinner, I was met with a sudden rush of people, a few of whom were on horseback, all of whom appeared to be running away from something as fast as possible. Hopping up on the fence bordering the cathedral on one end of the park, I caught a brief flash of horns and a frantic pair of eyes at the heels of the crowd, and realized that someone had let a bull loose on the streets of Granada, apparently a smaller version of the earlier Tope de Toros celebration that mimics the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. Though it was being corralled by several riders on horseback, I wasn't terribly keen on being trampled, and hung onto my little section of fence until the excitement had passed. In said excitement, I completely forgot to get any photos of the event, though to be fair, I was hanging off a fence.

The next morning, after gorging myself on Oasis's daily free pancakes, I set off with the Kiwis for another try at exploring Granada. With the weekday markets covering the streets and the Parque Central and surrounding area almost completely empty of people, it looked like a completely different city than the one in which I'd risked being trampled by a crowd, and possibly a bull, the previous night. In the daylight, Granada was vibrantly colored and full of activity, and I enjoyed strolling around looking at the colonial-era buildings and people-watching at the market. The only downside was the insane heat, which sent us inside for smoothies and more activity planning. The six of us decided to all pitch in on a boat tour through the Isletas de Granada, a series of small islands in Lake Nicaragua (supposedly) containing attractions of various sorts. The isletas themselves were gorgeous, as was the view from our boat over the lake, but as we wound through the various small islands, we found that nearly all of them, including the ones housing restaurants or boutique hotels, were deserted. This appeared to be the pitfall of visiting Nicaragua in the low season for tourism, but I didn't mind; the wildlife and landscapes were enough for me.

We docked back in Granada just as the near-daily afternoon rain started, ate some of the best pizza I've ever had for dinner, and then spent the rest of the night relaxing in the hostel's pool and game areas. The next morning, I packed up and followed the New Zealanders out of town to catch the ferry to Ometepe, an island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua formed by two large adjacent volcanoes. This was the first time I'd taken the Twin over water, and the experience was slightly nerve-wracking; the ferry was so packed that the Twin was wedged into the very front, the kickstand about two inches from the joint between the boat's deck and the loading ramp. Any major heaves the boat took would likely have ended with the bike falling over and getting stuck between the deck and the ramp, if not going into the water altogether, and I spent part of the voyage down on the deck holding onto the Twin to make sure it stayed upright.

The ferry ride alone had me excited to land on Ometepe; in clear weather, the view of the twin volcanoes from the lake was gorgeous, and only got better as we approached and landed. I managed to get the Twin off the boat with a minimum of hassle, and found the view from the road to be no less amazing, including the runway I crossed on the way.

The ride to El Zopilote, the hostel the six of us would be staying at for two nights, took me most of the way around the island and between the two volcanoes, though with a brief interruption for a thunderstorm along the way. El Zopilote was genuinely one of the most interesting places I've stayed during the whole trip; located in a rainforest near an organic farm, the owners/operators place a heavy emphasis on sustainable practice and connection with nature, fostered in no small part by the rainforest environment. 

My full day on Ometepe was a busy, yet entirely fulfilling one. I woke up for the hostel's daily 7:00 yoga class, which turned out to be a perfect way of working out the soreness of six weeks spent largely on a motorcycle, then joined a few new friends from the hostel for a hike partway up Volcan Maderas to the San Ramon waterfall. Fed by the crater lake, the waterfall cascades nearly 200 feet down a sheer rock wall, and although the hike up is at times challenging, it was beautiful and well worth it, particularly since we had troops of howler and capuchin monkeys following us up. Rinsing off in the small pool at the foot of the waterfall felt great, and the mist rolling in over the mountain lent a mysterious atmosphere to the whole thing.

After returning to El Zopilote and drying off, I gathered with most of the other hostel guests for a Mayan Cacao ceremony. Cacao was a significant part of Mayan culture, and the ceremony surrounding the drink was a means of community connection and held a great religious significance. Over steaming cups of the semi-sweet drink, the leader had us pair up with others we'd never met before, sharing details about ourselves and getting to know each other. Normally I'd feel a little strange in such a setting, but the peaceful environment had us all relaxed and open. The majority of the group ended up having dinner together afterwards, and were all happily surprised to find that the connections fostered during the ceremony seemed to be genuine. I've really come to enjoy hostel stays for that reason alone; where else would I be able to have dinner and swap stories with travelers from Germany, Great Britain, New Zealand, and Arizona at the same table?

The next morning started early; I was packed up and on the road before 0900, intending to cross into Costa Rica as early as possible and anticipating the usual border mess. I had hoped to catch the 10:00 ferry back to the mainland, but arriving at 9:55, I saw the ferry I'd hoped to catch just casting off and pulling away, not nearly full. I felt an involuntary surge of anger; the ONE time public transit in Nicaragua leaves early, and it's the one ferry I needed to catch. The hour before the next one was at least spent getting the Twin situated on the boat in a far less precarious position than before, and soon enough I was back on the mainland, back on the Twin, and covering my last few miles in Nicaragua (which were, as usual, gorgeous).

The border crossing at Penas Blancas was less than two hours away, and far less stressful than my entry in Guasale. Besides being newly constructed, there were far fewer people crossing than I'd encountered at Guasale, though with no shortage of "ayudantes" offering their help. I pushed through the group, and found the exit process surprisingly quick and far easier than entry. With a short wait for the police to sign off on my import cancellation, I took a few moments to reflect on my time in Nicaragua. With time running short, I'd had to forego some of the places I'd hoped to see, particularly on the Caribbean coast and the inland rainforests, but the week I'd spent there had revealed a vibrant and beautiful country that will certainly be on my growing list of places to return to.