The Reunion of Man and Machine

July 2nd to 10th

After two months back in Britain and an emotional good bye to our families, we finally head back to Nicaragua to try and pick up our bikes and the threads of our interrupted tour.

Arriving in Managua by aeroplane is like clashing the gears of a high power sports car - it jars the nerves! Approaching by bicycle, Central America creeps up on you at low speed. Air travel slams it in your face and allows no time for the senses to adjust. As we leave the airport it's like entering another world.

The heat and humidity suddenly envelop you like a warm wet blanket. The buildings fall apart - all crumbling concrete and exposed steel clawing at the sky. Bodies swarm at you from all sides - gone is the sense of decorum and personal space we British expect from strangers. "Taxi!", "Hotel" the high volume cries, as hopefuls make grabs for our rucksacks to seal the deal and cause you to follow. Despite the jet lag and crusty eyes from a 26 hour journey we run the gauntlet and repel all comers to flag down a taxi down in the street we know will cost less than half price.

It's 10 miles from the airport to Managua centre where we return to Hostal Santos. I feel my legs tensing up and then making for an imaginary brake pedal as we speed towards a red light at 60mph. The driver, seeing my wasted efforts, laughs and casually explains that after two motorcyclists were dragged from their bikes and shot; the police no longer enforce traffic restrictions after dark. Welcome back to Nicaragua!

In our absence, Central America has passed from Summer into Winter - meaning we are now in the rainy season. It's not like a winter back home and temperatures are still in the 80's and 90's. There are just two seasons here and winter lasts for seven or eight months with torrential rains and tropical storms a violent and daily feature. The vegetation has an otherwordly greeness and growth rates are prodigious....

Above, great flocks of parakeets squabble and squawk as they tear between tree perches with the best pickings...

As is becoming a common way to start our tour, we are both laid low with headcolds. By choice we would never have visited Managua and this is now our third stay and it's all a bit depressing. After three days we can stand it no more and head on out.

Travel without the bicis is a torrid affair and I have new found sympathy for backpackers. We take a taxi to the bus terminal where we are assaulted by maybe 10 competing companies looking for fares and all grabbing at our clothes. It's two hours to Rivas and the bus is choc-a-bloc. Amazingly we both get seats - Sue shares with a mother and two young lads and I get half a buttock on a back seat facing sideways. There are people and gear everywhere in the aisle and it's a hot sweaty ride with armpits jammed in your face. As I am the nearest, whenever we stop I am responsible for the rear door and an impossible number of new passengers climb in over my legs and feet. It's a human version of the popular 'Tetris' game fitting them all in.

As we near our stop, the conductor, unable to move down the aisle - spider-mans his way up on to the roof of the moving bus, over the top and in at the back door. He explains he can get us a taxi to the ferry port and; whilst hanging bodily out of the door, slings one of our rucksacks over one shoulder, then the other over his other shoulder. As the bus slows to a running speed, like a paratrooper he disappears out the door taking all our kit. Being less adventurous, we almost wait for the bus to stop before jumping out whereupon the hyper-active bus-man is already running back towards us gesticulating at the car he has launched our bags into. He is up and the bus is off before we can even reach the taxi.

From taxi to ferry and another lesson in how shockingly wasteful Western travel is with it's 'Maximum Passenger Loads'....

From ferry to bus and four more hours of mixed paved and dirt road to cross Ometepe Island. We are minor celebrities it would seem when I explain to the bus conductor we are returning to collect our bikes from Oswaldo's place. 'Ahhhh these are the gringos' he announces to the bus load of locals and they all nod as if a nagging problem has finally been solved. At least we learn that Oswaldo has been good to his word and the bikes and kit is just as we left it. I can't tell you how big a relief this news is!

As luck would have it, the bus terminates at Rancho Merida where we frantically left our trusty steeds two months earlier and it's a happy reunion of man and machine.

Partly to fully recover from our headcolds and mainly to push some money Oswaldo's way (as he refuses to take money for bicycle storage) we stay four days at his hostal and restaurant. Many thanks amigo - you really helped us out when we needed it.

To be honest it's also partly to put off the inevitable ride back to the ferry port. Two months off does not prepare you for this as a first day back on a fully loaded bike...

Last time we rode here, we were well in the groove and the roads were dry. Now there are added water features and it's all gone slick and treacherous....

All this water is manna from heaven for butterflies and they swirl and flutter around us, gathering in congregation in damp spots....

Sue manages to spill some of her kit on a nasty stretch....

Later she spills herself and takes a tumble in the dirt. Day one and our first use of the first aid kit as she bangs up a wrist. It all gets too much as we approach a volcanic water hole that boasts medicinal properties for it's mineral rich water. A patient checks in for some aquatic healing....

We intended to stay an hour and remain for four when the healing proves more tempting than the riding. The rainy season proves to be more than a rumour when the heavens open and we deluged with a cascade of water. It's odd to be swimming in a cold sulphurous pool under warm rain.

After so long enjoying long summer evenings of daylight back home in Britain, it's a bit of a shock to be chasing the last of the sun's rays at just six o'clock as we make our sodden ride back to a hotel by the ferry port. The streets are in darkness as the power suddenly fails and we just make it before it's pitch black.

Leaving the island, the imposing cone of Conception volcano is noticeably greener than two months ago. When it emerges from dense cloud banks that is. A swift, flat dash along the lake takes us through a surprisingly modern metal forest of giant rotating wind turbines that supply the local area with green energy....

It's a relaxing ride towards the chaos that is the Penas Blancas border crossing. We are immediately accosted by youths who tell us the wait to be stamped out of Nicaragua is two hours, but for $10 each they can speed things up. We decline and the queue is indeed right around the building. The 'speeding up process' consists of marching people close to the front of the queue and telling them to blatantly push in. Four Americans are having a disagreement with their 'helper' explaining that is not what they had in mind when they handed over what is an average day's wage for a local.

Nicaraguan organisation at it's finest....

The whole thing is chaotic and trying to queue with our bikes becomes impossible with all the jostling. In the melee Sue drops her bike, only catching it when the chain-ring gouges a path down her shin. Where the sharp metal teeth have bitten into her leg, it looks like she has been mauled by the claws of a bear and the blood flows freely into her sock and shoe. I think she is going to need a stitch or two. Eventually after an hour and a half we get the formalities of the passport stamp out of the way and we can finally dress her still-bleeding wound.

Some countries you leave with a heavy heart, some countries you just leave. Adios Nicaragua we'll not miss you....

After the wasted time at the border we again chase the daylight and arrive 20kms later at 'La Cruz' the first Costa Rican town of any size. Bienvenidos a Costa Rica.....

A Change Of Plans

April 23 to...

Ometepe Island resembles a dumbbell in that it is two giant volcanic cones joined together by a narrow strip of land. We leave Moyagalpa on Conception Volcano heading to Merida on the other cone of Maderas Volcano.

The road around Conception is paved and it's an easy 20 kilometers to the turn off, whereupon the tarmac ends and it's a rough ride across the isthmus. Rocks in the road are big enough to stand the bike up for a photo op....

Where the lands sweeps down to meet the sea there are some great beaches of soft golden sand. Fronted by palm topped palapas with the impressive 1400 metre cone in the background it's a memorable setting for a lunch stop...

Behind us there is a midden pile where all the local hotels throw away their food waste and white faced capuchin monkeys squabble noisily over scraps. I can almost hear the "Mission Impossible" theme tune playing as this one runs the tightrope back to the trees....

It's hard to believe that after another road juncton at Santa Cruz, the road gets even worse....

It's one of the worst surfaces I've ever picked my way through. Always terrible - it varies between nasty rock to tyre sucking sand which stops the bikes dead. Riders don't always stop so fast and we are often thrown overboard. Fortunately it's a soft landing, but slick with sweat we become covered in grit and sand and it's slow going. Even the buses struggle on this route, often taking 4 hours to cover just 40 kms (25 miles)....

It takes us 5 tough hours.

Next day we head out to hike up to the San Ramon waterfalls. It's about a four hour trek that takes us roughly half way up the Maderas Volcano, so it's a good dry run to take on the full thing. Midday temperatures are as ever in the billions, so we set off at dawn to hopefully get most of the climb out of the way in the cool part of the day. It's a good decision as the path is really steep in places as if passes through an ecological research centre and up the mountain side.

Unfortunately views are limited through thick vegetation, but the glimpses you do get of the lake and mainland are spectacular.

Then, just as the heat is getting seriously oppressive the tree cover opens up as we reach the 40m cascade...

Actually "cascade" is a little generous; this being the end of the dry season. However, despite 6 months with no rain, there is still some water. More importantly there is a small pool at the foot of the falls that is crystal clear and fabulously cool for swimming in.

After the descent and whilst picking up some emails, we get some bad news about Sue's father. A frantic phone call home reveals the worst and we are suddenly making arrangements to leave the island and book return flights. It's a Sunday afternoon and the last ferry leaves the other side of the island in just 90 minutes. We dash back to our hotel and hastily make arrangements to dump the bikes and kit with the the owner, pack a bag and get to the boat jetty in less than an hour. Fortunately there is a speed boat there and we manage to get a ride to the ferry port.

Arriving just as the ferry is finishing loading and preparing to leave, we pull up alongside and climb from the roof of the speed boat through a hatch on the side of the ferry.

We just made it!

It takes us a couple of days to get a flight after the problems with volcanic ash from an eruption in Iceland and we arrive home on Wednesday morning. It's a devastating blow to hear her father passed away in the night and that we were just too late to see him. He was 83.

Ivor had been ill off and off for a long time and we were always travelling with the spectre of this news in the background. In the end he was taken to hospital with what was thought to be a 'routine urine infection' but he was found to have internal bleeding that couldn't be stopped. He passed peacefully in the night.

Ivor was a man you would describe as a 'True Gentleman'. In a world where that term is bandied about with little regard, it is good to have known the man for whom the expression was truly meant. Ivor was a gentleman and a man I am proud to have known - he is sadly missed.

It was hard for us both to have arrived home just too late to say goodbye, but Sue and I can look back on the four months we spent over Christmas with her dad when he was in better health and on good form....

This is a better way to remember him.

We have spent the last 2 months back in Britain with family and friends especially with Sue's mother Sal who is slowly coming to terms with her loss.

We are now heading back to Nicaragua to pick up the bikes and resume our tour into South America. It's always tough to leave family behind and that is especially true now. It is a tough decision, but then starting the trip in the first place was a tough decision as well. There are always reasons to delay, to put off and not to do what part of you needs to do, and there is never a 'right time'. Sometimes you just have to go - and then be flexible enough to about-face and head home when needed.

As ever - life goes on.....

Ometepe Island

April 21st to 22nd

Another ridiculously early start sees us leaving Granada and heading past the cloud obscured cone of Vulcan Mombacho. It's a trivial climb made tricky by the oppressive heat as we head to the volcanic island of Ometepe.

At Nandaimo, we rejoin the Pan American Highway and battle the traffic, the manic rush of cars like a stream of blood cells gushing along a main artery. It's a pretty short, dull ride until Rivas where there is a turn off to the boat dock at Saint George. After debating boat times with captains that conflict with timetables, we book passage for bikes and riders on the next ferry - all for less than $5.

With an hour to kill we rest up on the sandy lake shore with the mile high cone of Vulcan Conception rising dramatically from the lake surface forming the island in the background....

The 10 mile crossing is by a tiny, chugging boat that carries all manner of cargo to the islanders. Our bikes share space with chickens, copper pipe, a diesel generator, food, water tanks and electrical supplies.

Ometepe Island is actually 2 volcanoes joined together by a thin strip of land forming a rounded dumbbell shape roughly 20 miles long and 10 wide. The second volcano is 'Maderas' - greener and lower than it's conjoined twin at 1394 metres (4500 feet).

The barren drama of the steep sided Conception Volcano is clear as the boat docks at 'Moyogalpa'....

Moyogalpa is pretty much a dock and a single street lined with guest houses with a church at the end. After a long day it's as much as we want to explore and we crash in the cheapest room we can find.

The island is served by roads that circumnavigate both volcanoes and connect together at the isthmus between them. Some bits are even paved using cinder blocks - the rest is a nasty patchwork of rock and stone. We head past banana and corn fields to 'Reserva Chaco Verde' to hike along the lake amongst primary forest. The air hums with the screams of insect, bird and animal as troops of monkeys cavort in the tree canopy. Some are newly born and cling to mother for dear life as she hunts for food....

Adolescents are bolder and more inquisitive staring right back as we watch them....

Father just broods....

There are huge butterflies, chameleonic lizards, coatis (a kind of giant rodent the size of a small dog) white herons, and blue tailed magpies called 'Urracas' which follow us screeching out warnings to all who listen....

It's an incredible place and we see no-one all day. Views back to the volcano are stunning....

The lake dominates life here. Soils are fertile, but rainfall is absent during the 6 month dry season so it's water provides life to valuable crops and people alike. It is a meeting place for socialising, to cool and water cattle and also for bathing and washing clothes....

Wooden washing platforms are dotted along the shore.

Mother washes....

Whilst dad fishes....

And son relaxes....

Masaya and Granada

April 17th to 21st

20 kilometres outside Managua, the town of Masaya is the centre of the Nicaraguan arts and crafts trade. The old market is home to thousands of artists famous for a quality hammocks, geometrically decorated gourds and pottery plus a wealth of leatherwork and basketry.

But thats not why we're going there.

Like the face of a pimply teenager, Nicaragua is dotted with an impressive 21 volcanoes. The statistic is all the more impressive considering the country is about the size of New York State.They stretch in a south easterly line from the Honduran border, across to Costa Rica and the volcano here at Masaya is the most active of them all. Just outside the town we pass the giant crater lake created in a huge explosion around 6000 years ago. Drinks are outrageously overpriced at a beautiful restaurant overlook, but the view is well worth the money....

We plan to head to Masaya town, drop off our bags in a hotel and ride back to climb the volcano but just as we arrive, we bump into another laden touring bike and stop for a chat. Sean and Ingrid, a British couple are travelling south from Alaska, nothing that unusual so far, but they are doing it on a tandem so they can bring their eight year old daughter Kate along with them. Sean does the steering while Kate does the pedaling from the back of the tandem. In order to carry all their gear including books for Kate's schooling, both the tandem and Ingrid's bike tow trailers making them about the longest bicycling convoy I have ever seen....

They were just heading out of Masaya after debating whether to visit the volcano or not but change their plans when we say we are going. So we return to the hotel they checked out of just 20 minutes earlier, dump our gear and head back to the 'Parque Nacional Vulcan Masaya'. Like them we had debated about visiting after a less than inspiring write up in guide books, but our arrival reveals an absolute gem of a visitors centre. One of the guides explains the area's geology over a 3D map showing the complex of craters and mini lakes and there are other models and exhibits on all things volcanic. It's probably one of the best educational centres I have been to anywhere in the world. It's also a safe haven to kill an hour or two when the clouds burst in an unexpected deluge that changes the placid skies to a rampant waterfall.

When the air becomes dry and see-through once again, we venture out and ride a steep track up to the volcano's rim. The air is thick with throat stinging sulphurous gases and guides have supplies of gas masks they can dole out should the volcano belch back into life or the wind change direction. Looking at the scene it's no wonder Spanish priests used to believe this was The Gate to Hell itself and they would come here in the 16th to prevent Satan from escaping. One priest allegedly mistook the glowing lava for molten gold and set off to collect some. Maybe God does indeed protect the weak and foolish as he apparently survived this misguided attempt at riches.

It's hard to judge scale, but this is a whopper....

This whole area used to be one gargantuan volcano which covered several square miles, the cone soaring nearly 3 miles (14500 feet) in height. Then, 6000 years ago there was a massive explosion which blew the mountain away and flattening the entire area. Now there are several smaller craters where the land still boils and erupts and also the huge Lake Masaya sitting within the rim of the original volcano. Ingrid, Sean Sue and Kate set against one of the newer (much smaller) crater rims...

After a night in Masaya, we set out as a convoy to cover the 10 miles or so to Granada. Normally we get enough attention riding just as a couple - riding with guys on a tandem hauling trailers, especially with the diminutive figure of Kate on the back.... well that just floors people.

Founded in 1524, Granada rapidly prospered as a rich trade centre due to it's location on Lake Nicaragua. Whilst seemingly land locked, this enormous lake has an outflow to the Caribbean Sea via the San Juan river allowing huge cargoes to be transported by ship. It's rivalry with Leon erupted into full blown civil war in the 1850's whereupon Leon enlisted an American adventurer, William Walker to help out against Granada. He duly took the city, betrayed Leon and then set himself up as president of the entire country. After reintroducing slavery, changing the official language to English, mortgaging half the country for his own personal gain he then set about invading Costa Rica. At that point people got tetchy and kicked him out, but not before he managed to burn the city to the ground.

Today Granada is a striking collection of restored colonial buildings and more modern copies like the central cathedral....

As Nicaragua's premier tourist town, the main streets are pedestrianised which is unusual in Central America - doesn't stop people of bikes though....

The touristic centre is colourful, the lively plaza hosting a band whilst locals and travelers alike watch and dance. Bars and restaurants compete along traffic free streets, outdoor tables and chairs a haven for diners and people watchers. It's lively and colourful...

Old doorways, modern business....

Strolls through back streets take you past old churches and single story adobe houses, the mountains and cathedral dome an ever present backdrop....

During the heat of the day, Kate catches up on her school work and Sue just cannot help the maths teacher in her coming out to torture the poor girl. She inflicts a couple of hours of fractions and decimal sums on her before we head out for a Chinese in the cheaper streets away from the tourist trap.

Sean, Ingrid and Kate bid us farewell and head off the next day, but we stay to explore a bit more. Nice meeting you guys and hope we can catch up somewhere south of here...

Walking out of town, the mile or so to the lake reveals a rougher edge behind the freshly painted facade. Open sewers cause the nose to crinkle and instead of high price bars; beggars and rubbish now compete to line the streets. The malecon or walkway along the lake shore could be amazing, but the park and restaurants are showing signs of neglect and a lack of maintenance as they slowly slip into disrepair.

Back in town there is a real mix of the old and the new and some of the back streets are just beautiful.

It really is a mix though. Nicaragua after all the troubles of recent times has over 50% unemployment. There is state provided education, but it can be sketchy in places and poorer families often send their children out to beg to provide money where parents cannot find work. Granada with it's fat wallet carrying gringos acts like a magnet and having a white face paints you with a target.

We are really torn. Hearing their stories is heart rending. Some are genuinely sad cases, others are patently just fronts to garner easy money from rich westerners. By comparison, we are massively wealthy and it is easy to appease your conscience and just give to them all. But underneath that there is always the nagging doubt that by giving, you just encourage parents to keep children out of school and to squander their one chance to a better life. It is a tough question, particularly in a country where an education doesn't easily lead to a job in a place where half the people cannot find work.

In the last couple of years the EU and the US has withheld over $200 million in aid due to irregularities at the last election. Even Oxfam has pulled out of Nicaragua because corruption meant that aid was not getting through to the people that needed it. The current president Daniel Ortega was supposed to be the saviour of the people - a new dawn, but one man we speak to talks of more revolution if he were re-elected after changing the constitution to allow him to run again.

You just can't help feeling this is a country just struggling back from the brink after the last few decades, but whether it follows countries like Costa Rica to a better future is still open to debate...

The sun sets over this beautiful old historic city and tomorrow we leave it behind and head down the lake shore. We've a ferry to catch to the Volcanic island of Ometepe....

April 15th and 16th

We battle our way through the chaos of Managua's congested streets heading West....

Unusually, there are two major routes between the new capital and Leon, the old one. We had intended to take the new road as the old one climbs directly over a 600 meter hill that the other route circumnavigates. Either there is a complete lack of signs or we just missed them, distracted as we were by cars coming from all directions, dodging the hand carts and ox driven wains. So we take the old road.... and climb.

It's a dull brown barren landscape reminiscent of the semi desert highlands of Mexico and we stop frequently to cool off in the blistering heat. Briefly the air freshens as we top 2000 feet before dropping back to the plains at sea level.

The land is given over to sugar once more and heat hazed, arrow straight tarmac speeds the crop to market like some giant mechanised hedgehog....

40 kilometres out from Leon the road starts to degrade and then becomes interspersed with dirt sections where the blacktop disappears completely. It slows us down considerably and passing trucks now raise great plumes of dust which forms a kind of paste as it clings to sweaty faces....

Leon, a city formed in 1524, was originally sited further east at the foot of the Momotombo Volcano. It had to be moved to it's current location after being destroyed in 1610 when said volcano first erupted, and then finished the job off with a massive earthquake. Leon then enjoyed 247 years as the nations capital before internecine squabbling caused it to lose that honour to the then fishing village at Managua. As a consequence the modern day city is a much smaller, more accessible place with some stunning colonial relics. The beautiful Iglesia de la Recoleccion....

The cathedral in the central plaza is the largest in all of Central America and took over 100 years to build. Blueprints for it's design had to be ratified by Spanish authorities and the town's leadership were not convinced a plan on such a grand scale would pass scrutiny.

So they lied.

By submitting a more modest proposal, they could receive Spain's blessing - and then just get on with this colossal structure behind their backs....

Many of the fine buildings are now pock marked and fading, their crumbling facades reflecting Leon's recent change of status. Where they have been restored, however, it is easy to see just how beautiful this place must have been in it's heyday. The municipal theatre....

Leon has always taken it's politics seriously. During the revolution almost the entire population rebelled against the Somoza dictatorship and fought with the Sandinistas to topple the government and the US funded Contras. Buildings throughout the city display giant murals commemorating these troubled times as people fought for their liberty....

A grim reminder of the struggle is the 'Gallery of Heroes and Martyrs' where pictures of over 300 victims are on display. It is run by the mothers of these former Sandinista veterans who are willing to talk about their memories and experiences. It is chilling to note the number of women amongst those remembered who fought alongside the men and also the young age of all faces staring back at you.

It's not all about the struggles of the past though and Leon is also home to art galleries such as the 'Fundacion Ortiz'.

Now a visit to an art gallery can go one of two ways, especially when it's so-called 'contemporary art'. Contemporary art is just that where people haven't had enough time to decide what is rubbish yet so they can throw it away. It is something of a surprise then, when Fundacion Ortiz turns out to be pretty amazing! Set in two incredibly fine old colonial houses complete with open courtyards and gardens, it's a fantastic collection of paintings and sculpture from all around the Latin world....

After the sprawling immensity of Managua, Leon is a much more accessible city. It's small enough to walk around and safe enough that doing so is unlikely to ruin your day. It's firmly on the gringo trail and white faces intermingle with the locals, but at it's heart it still retains an authentic feel with a bustling market at the centre and unexplored back-streets to lose yourself in. We're both pretty glad we extended our time in Nicaragua and made a detour to come here.

Retracing our steps (or tyre tracks) back to Managua, we take the new road. It's a decision taken by the majority and we now swap the rock and dirt surface of the old for a massive increase in traffic. Brief gaps in the cloud cover allow brief glimpses of the behemoth that was responsible for Leon's retreat to a safe distance. Vulcan Momotombo rises perfect and conical from an otherwise unblemished strip of flat-land. From a standing start at sea level it thrusts abruptly 1280 metres (4200 ft) into the clouds on the edge of Lake Managua....

It makes a fairly spectacular backdrop as we skirt the lake back to Managua....