Wandering Star

Long lost Travis

Hello again folks,

I realize there has been a dreadfull absence in my correspondence and for that I apologize greatly.  I will try and fill you in as best as I possibly can about what’s been up the past 5 days or so.

After returning from my brutal ascent of Momotombo I checked my email and recieved John’s flight information. He was to arrive in Managua at 6:30pm on the 4th of April. I made arrangements to leave La Tortuga Booluda, much to my chagrin. I would’ve liked to stay there atleast another week. 

I went to Managua, and made it to the airport 15 minutes before the scheduled arrival of his flight only to discover that it was delayed 2 hours. I waited it out in the airport, luckily encountering a transport driver from the Hilton Managua who, finding my name on his list, agreed to take us there. John got through customs with no worries, and we headed over to the Hilton together.

That night and the following night we stayed at the US$230/night Hilton using my saved up Hilton Honors points. I still have 3 more nights there, and I am pretty certain I will use them by the end of my stay here in Nicaragua. The nightlife in the area was wonderfull, albeit expensive. Both of the nights we went out in Managua were very very long… filled with lots of drinking and meeting many different women *and many different types of women. These were only my second and third nights ever in Managua- the city really puts me off. I don’t like the intense congestion and bustle of the place, nor do I like the ever-present crime danger. Staying in a 4 star hotel helped ease most of the difficulties, I admit, but I was eager to get the hell out of there and move closer to the *real* Nicaragua I love so very much.

On Sunday afternoon we traveled to Granada, a sparkling gem of a colonial city. Granada calls itself the “tourist city” and it really is that. Granada possesses the best “tourist infrastructure.” By that I mean many menus are in both Spanish and English, the streets are well labeled, and there are many attractions that foreigners can enjoy.

Monday morning we woke up and I had a great plan in mind. Since the US State Department strictly advises foreigners NOT to drive in Nicaragua, I felt it would be best if we went and rented a pair of Motocicletas. Now, the word Motocicleta in Nicaragua really refers to dirt bikes, the prime method of transportation. I know I could’ve riden a 200cc dirtbike no problem, but the man in charge of the rentals advised against it. (I know myself better than he does, I will return and rent it later on). We ended up renting a pair of 150cc automatic scooters.

When the term “scooter” is used, one conjures up the image of a tiny litty fart putting around the streets and blocking traffic at 25mph. These are not the types of scooters we rented. On the flats of the Carretera to Managua, I was able to push 55mph on mine, truly amazing. It took quite a bit of convincing to get John to ride one, and indeed he was pathetic with his at first… but it was a marvelous idea. We buzzed around the crowded streets of Granada that morning before gearing up for a real adventure: La Laguna de Apoyo. Yes, hell yes, we rented powerful scooters and drove some 15 km outside of Granada to visit one of the most beautiful crater lakes in the country. I had never been to La Laguna before, so I had to take carefull note of the directions before heading out. What an undescribable joy it was to tear along that Carretera and then up the winding road to the crest of the crater rim. Then we crept down the winding chewed-up road to the bottom, and had a delicious lunch by the lakeside. 

That night in Granada, we went out and ate a very delicious and very authentic Italian dinner—- only in Granada can you find such delicious international fare. Afterwards John and I went to El Club, a popular, modern bar in the heart of the city. He walked, I rode. Around 9 we went our separate ways, and I drove around bar hopping on my new love. [ side note. There is nothing, absolutely nothing that will keep me from owning a motorcycle or a scooter after this experience. There is nothing that will stop me. To have that much freedom, that much control and power is truly a remarkable feeling… and at a whopping 50 miles per gallon, who can argue with that? ]

The following day we got up early and rode down to near the Isletas de Granada (little islands of Granada). We took a one hour boat tour, and I must say, I had no idea what lay in store. It turns out the Isletas are the playgrounds of Nicaragua’s moth wealthy residents. There are some 360+ little islands in this beautiful verdant maze. Each one has its own story, and distinct owner. The most impressive, not surprisingly, belonged to the owner of Flor de Cana rum. I commented to our guide that “wealthiness like that does not exist in the United States.” Sure, you can be a multimillionaire, but it cannot buy you that location, that craftsmanship, those 400 year old trees. The island was rimmed by a 5 foot high hand-layed retaining wall of stone, and amongst the thick foliage we caught glimpses of the devastating beauty contained within. God help me, if I only had the $70,000 to buy one of the less developed Isletas, I would be in the bank right now transferring the money.

Afterwards, we returned our motos. John had to pay a hefty $35 fine because he parked his like moron, angled improperly, and the wind from a passing car knocked his over, seriously scratching up the side. C’est la vie.  We then took a bus to Rivas, then a taxi to San Jorge, and finally a ferry to Isla Ometepe. 

Ometepe is a true paradise, a connected volcanic island in the shape of a figure eight, containing two massive cones… Concepcion and Maderas. John and I found a great room at the classiest hotel on the island for US$29/night. The hotel is called Villa Paraiso… and is, wow…. paradise. If I ever have the good fortune to find someone willing to marry me, this is where I will take her on our honeymoon, 100%, no doubt, no questions asked.

Our hotel sits atop a little cliff overlooking the eastern face of the islands. The lake water is always warm, and the shore descends ever-so-gradually into the lake. A good 200 meters off shore, I could still stand, with the water only rising to mid-chest. From that distance you can clearly see the towering cone of the active Volcan Concepcion. The other end of the beach is dominated by the shatered ridgeline of the heavily-forested Volcan Maderas. The beach is truly exotic because of these towering beasts.

John and I got up very early the following day to climb Concepcion. It was something out of a dream… I have to pause for a second…. I know I am absolutely blowing over so much in my hasty retelling of these past 5 days. There is nothing I could do about this. Internet at the Hilton cost a DISGUSTING US$7 per hour, and the internet at Villa Paraiso costs a horrific US$4/hour… compared to EVERYWHERE ELSE IN THE COUNTRY WHERE IT IS 50 cents/hour! So I either 1) didn’t want to spend that much or 2) never had the time. Which brings me to another point, John originally informed me that he would be here for 3 weeks. Upon arrival I found out that his entire leave is three weeks, and that he was only planning on spending 11 days. 11 damned days. This is really awfull for me, it requires me to travel at a sickening, break neck pace. I really, really, really, really hate travelling this fast, but I will do anything for my friend to show him as much of this country as I can, even if that costs me my sanity and my ability to keep up with my blog. 

Where was I, oh yes, Concepcion. What a damned beast. The way up starts out through farms and then enters thick jungle, full of birds of paradise and many varieties of monkey. We made as good of a time as we could, covered by a thick layer of clouds. We eventually pushed into the cloud layer around 700 meters, and were largely inside of it most of our hike. On and on we pressed… you would get to the top of an agonizing climb, look up, and see another hundred meters just carving STRAIGHT UP. God almighty, there was never a break, never one calm step on the whole climb… scampering over jagged volcanic rocks and pulling ourselves up 3 foot rock ledges. It was brutal in its own way… Concepcion is nice that much of the ascent is shaded from the brutal sun, but there was no comfortable trail… just up, straight up that monster of a volcano.

At one point around 500 meters or so, we saw an old mand slowly climbing up ahead of us. This was strange. Even more strange was that he was barefoot, and without food or water. Our guide Pedro turned to me and said, he’s really crazy, he’s going to go up and up and probably going to die up there. We tried to talk to him, his feet were already cut up badly from the jagged rocks. We told him again and again to turn around… again and again to get off the mountain and all he did was respond in psychotic mumbling. For a bit, another group of two Canadian climbers and their guide were travelling right behind us. Their guide had some extra water so he gave the old man a bottle and some bread. Lord knows whether or not he used it…  [On the way back down we expected to pass him but did not encounter him. We asked a man further down the trail if he had passed, and the man said he did not, as he had been there the whole day collecting the $1 toll for passing through his farm. Without a doubt, the man is still up there now, lost, off the trail and trying to climb up. He will die up there. It is a tough thing to think about… there are no resources for him. They need a helicopter with an Infrared camera to pick him out of the foliage, but obviously no one is going to spend that kind of money to come collect an insane old man. He is known by the townspeople, and his family has more or less abandoned him… a sad sad story indeed. That poor man, up there right now dying of exposure, its tough to stomach. I was on the phone today with the city hall of Altagracia describing my experience. I think some members of the army will head up there with dogs to try and find him, but I know they wont… he is somewhere, far off the trails, bleeding and muttering to himself. What a strange, strange world we live in sometimes. What a horrible, horrible thing mental illness is. God almighty.

Anyway, to make another brutally short edit of a very long story, we reached around 1400 meters and I’d had enough… only a tiny bit left to go, but I just couldnt advance as fast as our guide wanted me to. By now my weight is down around 270, maybe the high 260s, but it was just too much for me. In hindsight, I’m upset because we SURELY had enough time for me to make it to the summit, but he gave me an unrealistic timeframe in which to do it so I called it off at 1400m. John and him went on and reached the summit, bless them, and I stayed behind.

The best moment on this whole climb happened at 1350 meters where we stopped for a rest. We were sitting there, shrouded in thick clouds as we had been the entire time. I stared out into the thick grey space and then looked down to tie my shoes. Then, I looked back up, for one second the clouds broke. Our stomachs just fell out of our chests… the view was devastating, there was the giant Maderas, lumbering through the oncoming clouds. There, far below, were the fields we’d lumbered through… and there, just below us came drifting in a cloud bank.

There really are no words for this experience, there really aren’t. I can try and tell you but… it was just overwhelming. We were well above the cloud layer and they came flying in at 30 mph. When they hit the mountain below us they were swept upwards by the rising air current and that was it… the fog enveloped us and the view was gone. Some precious 40 seconds and that was it, back in the fog of time.

Wow. On the way back down the clouds did eventually part. I wished, greatly, that our guide hadn’t been so pushy about us having to turn around so early. They tend to part around 1pm and we should’ve definitely waited on the summit for that. Oh well. I still got to enjoy the breathtaking view on the way down. The descent was, of course, absolutely agonizing. My knees were shattered, it was just brutal. There are no words. That is why the guidebooks say “excellent physical condition required.” Oh well.

Today, the day after, I slept like a baby nice and late (to 8:15, hah). All day was spent in the shade relaxing and trying to beg my legs to work again. John and I threw the frisbee around in the sun on the beach for a while, then ate lunch with 2 Swedish girls and a German girl they were travelling with. After smoking a Monserrat #3 cigar on the beach, I came back up top to write this brutally expensive blog post. 

I apologize that there are no photographs to post at the moment… this damn computer is on some Linux type operating system that does not recognize the USB connection of my camera. Oh well, as soon as I get somewhere with a reasonably priced internet connection I will be sure to post a ton of photos, I know that’s what everyone loves the most.

I still don’t know what John’s schedule is, I don’t know that he does either. We may have to return to Managua this weekend so he can chase after this girl he met at a disco there. I really loathe that prospect but as I said, I’ll do what I have to do to show him a good time. All I can say is that although John is one of my best friends, he is a drastically different person than me… and the things he is interested in doing differ greatly from my interests. Although I crave the company, and love the chance to speak English for a while… I will not be crying when he heads back and I can resume touring the way I like to. Invariably I will be returning to many of the spots we blew past to soak up all that we missed.  

I’m sorry this post is so very lacking, and so rushed… I’ll try and fill in the blanks soon… best wishes all.