The best surf is not in San Juan Del Sur.
To reach any one of the best surfing spots north and south of SJDS you have to take a shuttle.
For modest dollars, you load into trucks, jeeps, vans, and are driven through back country, down winding dirt paths in four wheel drive, and eventually stop at a beach with only a few conveniences.
The surf in Nicaragua has a good reputation and, on this week, the waves are anywhere from two to five feet. Not being a surfer, the waves don’t seem like much, but for Central America, on the Pacific coast, they aren’t bad, according to insiders riding in the back of this open truck with their surfboards close at hand.
Much of Nicaragua is undeveloped countryside and many citizens live at the end of dirt roads or no roads, pulling water from rivers or wells, transporting with horse drawn carts, watching television courtesy of electricity brought by the government. There is an encroachment on the land by housing developments geared to Norte Americanos and Europeans and signs on barbed wire fences sell fincas that have been in someone’s family for generations.
Surfers roam the world looking for good waves, and, today, they are talking excitedly while we bounce on the wooden benches in the back bed of the old military truck that used to transport revolutionaries..
Riding the waves will be an all day affair.
In the heat of the day, the beach in San Juan Del Sur is almost unoccupied.
There are few people walking its length, even fewer walking into the surf too cool off. Waitresses and waiters stay under their canvas roofs and swat insects with menus. Dogs stretch out on doorsteps.
Early morning, and evening, is a different story.
These times of day visitors and locals come out to watch the path of the sun, swim, look for pieces of eight, exercise, play games, cool off.
In the harbor are sailboats from around the world, a more exclusive set of boat people who move with the seasons from port to port, dock, enjoy the provisions, pastimes and possibilities of land living.They are a salty bunch and if they don’t like it here they pull up anchor and go somewhere else.There are ports around the world waiting and they can dock on islands in the oceans where only pirates have hung their hats. This little beach town is promoted in International Living and other publications as a destination, a trendy place where beautiful people want to go.
Evenings, the town looks gentler than during the day. Under hard edged day light, the town looks rough, like a two day beard, a stack of dirty dishes, a flat tire.
The city beach curves in a half circle from one end of the town to the other with the marina and shipping port on one end and expensive hotels and condos on the other.
On the top of the biggest mountain is a statue of Christ, called ” Cristo. ”
For twenty U.S. dollars you can ride to the top of the mountain, say a Holy prayer, and pay your respects.
On the beach, at sunset and sunrise, I can pay respects for free.
It is probable that some Spanish conquistador planted a flag on this beach, had a prayer said by the priest on the expedition, and had to pull a sword and fight locals who didn’t like the intrusion.
San Juan Del Sur is a most popular place, a party town, a hot spot on International bulletin boards, a place to see and be seen. There have been plenty of footsteps on these streets before Scotttreks got here, and last night’s waves washed footprints away to start the next day with a clean slate.
Two images come to mind when walking the town. The first is what happens when you stand on the beach and waves come around your feet and erode the sand you are standing on. The second is the conglomeration of good and bad on the beach in the morning as you beach comb and find beautiful shells among the plastic containers.
The whole town gives a feeling of looseness, of pieces barely kept together, of ankle bracelets and incense, of pagan God’s and too much alcohol, drugs, and bottled water.
If I’m going to fit in here I need to loosen my belt a notch.
Scotttreks eats up lots of shoe leather.
An easier day is board game afternoon on Wednesdays,
This Wednesday, our game is Mexican Train dominoes in Nicaragua..
There are rules and procedures, but all domino games end the same. In domino’s, if you play all your tiles before everyone else plays their tiles, you win the set. Each of the other players counts the dots on their domino’s that they have not played, and the dots are added and the sum is written under their name on a score sheet. When someone’s point total reaches a hundred, the game is over. The player with the lowest point total wins the game.
In the Caribbean, domino’s is an afternoon game played on a rickety table under a shade tree in front of a local bar. In Granada, this afternoon, it is a late afternoon game in the back room of a mini market at a big table.
I will make it a point to be here next Wednesday.
Finishing in the middle of the pack is not a bad place, but I, like everyone else, like it when my train pulls into the station first.
Competition is okay but it is trumped by good company every time.
Like most countries in Central and South America, Nicaragua’s independence was won from Spain. In some countries Spain held the field till the bitter end and there were fierce battles. In other countries, like Costa Rica, their power and control was more gently transferred.
On the net, BBC lays out a timeline of Nicaragua’s history, a country that has been meddled with by Spain, Britain, and the United States from its inception.
There has been a succession of dictators and strong men here,but,at the moment, revolutionary Daniel Ortega, American President Ronald Reagan’s nemesis, remains in power, duly elected, true to his Marxist theology.
This birthday finds Nicaragua moving forward,but escaping your reputation is daunting.
The people in this celebration audience are attentive and polite as political speeches come rolling out of political mouths.
There are probably some in the crowd that wish Nicaragua still belonged to Spain, but they don’t have the microphone.
Consensus is nearly impossible to achieve, these days, on just about any issue.
Leaders wish us to obey, but what they really do, their entire elected term, is try to herd us cats where we don’t want to go.
I hear and follow the rhythms.
This gathering, at a Calzada street intersection, is a neighborhood parade of girls in traditional dress, a brigade of drummers, a crowd following the action. This little group is practicing for a much larger extravaganza celebrating the Independence Day of Nicaragua on September 15.
Drummers work themselves into a groove and the dancing is choreographed on the spot.
Turning a corner, the assemblage marches away and I finally stop following.
An old man with a cane also watches them turn, then goes inside his hotel. When he walks he sticks the end of his cane in front of him, and then moves his body forward to stand by his cane.
His marching days are over but, as he watches the band, his cane taps its own rhythm on the sidewalk.
The game isn’t over until you have no heartbeat, and, then, you have no rhythm either.
Mombacho Volcano is only two thousand feet above sea level but it has a commanding presence.
From the Vista Mombacho Apartments, as well as most places in Granada, you can see its summit with its halo of clouds, a reminder that we live on an active planet spinning through an unimaginably large solar system in an unmeasurable universe.
As you climb Mombacho, it gets cooler, and once you start hiking you lose sight of the sun, moving up and down narrow paths cut through the jungle. You step on stones and steps made from tree trunks. The canopy is over head and you wouldn’t want to get off the path because there are canyons and drop offs.
Water drips from leaves, ferns and trails are slick.
Jose directs our attention to a bromelia that thrives in this rain forest.
He explains what monkeys really like to eat.
There are monkeys in this rain forest, as well as jaqaurs and small mammals. None have reason to interact with awkward, loud humans.
After our lesson, we continue, cool, secluded, smarter.
The animals are watching us, hidden in the undergrowth.
Nearing the end of our trail, Jose takes a side trek to show us fumeroles.
At this spot, the Earth’s breath is moist and hot. There is a steady updraft of steam in columns as if it was squeezing up between clenched teeth.
If you believe in dragon’s, you would call this dragon’s breath.
When you lean over, the steam is warm, seductive.
I hate to leave.
Dragon’s cast deep spells.
It is always good to hear about red berries.
Walking in this rain forest we are truly in a different world within our world, surrounded by green, the smell of decomposing plant life, the sounds of unseen animals. The city, though not far away, is actually very far away. As we hike, our voices are captured by the space around us and it feels like we are being held here by unseen forces.
Whether you are on Mombacho in Nicaragua or in rain forests in Costa Rica, the advice is the same.
Don’t eat anything if you don’t know what it is.
Red is nature’s stop sign.
Jose makes sure we know that there are some things you are not wise to do in this preserve, even if temptation is strong.
Being tempted in the garden goes way back in human history.
The last time Mombacho erupted was in the 1500’s.
It is a strato volcano and deposited lava in its last explosion for miles around its base. The rich volcanic soil around the volcano is a bonanza for coffee, rice, and bean plantations that cover the agricultural lands stretching below us for miles. From our observation point at the mountain’s top we can see Lake Nicaragua, the Laguna de Apoyo, the red tiled roofs of Granada and thousands of green acres of fincas.
This morning Jose, our guide, leads Ur and myself, around one of Mombacho’s craters.
Nicaragua is in the Ring of fire that is a belt of earthquake and volcanic activity where the America’s meet the Pacific Ocean . Managua has earthquakes and Ur, from South Korea, tells me that that city, where he now volunteers, is still suffering from last year’s quake.
Visiting Nicaragua without visiting a volcano is like visiting Disneyland without going on a ride.
The chances are Mombacho isn’t going to erupt any time soon, but tomorrow can always spin out of control with one turn of nature’s dial.
When this sleeping volcano wakes, the Earth will tremble.
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