Nicaragua Part 1--Whoosh off we go--second time around

As mentioned at my first attempt, we were headed to Nicaragua, specifically Corn Island.  That is a small island about 40 miles off the east coast of Nicaragua.  One of the pastors ministers there, and wants to build a church in a poor area mostly attended by Miskito Indians.

We were in the car ready to go at 5:30 am on Tuesday, the 2^nd.  We were squeezed into the Galloper, Shari and I being the ones who fit best into the jumpseats  in the back.  We had a luggage rack on the back of the car so we actually had plenty of room (if not leg room).  The Galloper being 4WD was the best choice, as we didn’t know what the Nicaraguan roads would be like.  We planned to drive to Bluefields, a town on the east coast and from there catch a boat to the island.

As the sun came up we had a beautiful view of a smoking volcano visible from San Jose.  The ride to the north was great; it was sunny and we were excited about the trip.  We had just made the same round trip to go to Llano Verde over the weekend (and leave Katie there).  When we got to the north, the road we were going to take was blocked by border police.  At first we thought it was due to the rather heated border dispute between  Nicaragua and Costa Rica in the area of the San Juan River, but they said that that road did not have a border crossing.  We went a few miles back to Los Chiles where there was a border crossing.  There Clint emailed the pastors, Henry and Larry,  to let them know we were coming and to meet us in Bluefields.

Imagine our surprise when we found out that the only way to proceed was by river boat.  We had just enough time to park the car in a fenced car lot (complete with mean dog), go through customs, and get a bite to eat.  We hastily abandoned all the extra stuff we could and all luxuries like snacks and wished we had packed a little smaller.  But oh well, whoosh here we go. From there on we would be going by bus, boat, taxi, and however else into territory that none of us had been in.

We went through immigration without problem, bought our boat tickets and made our way to the dock.  We were stopped by an official of Los Chilies and made to pay $1.00 each for the privilege of walking through the town.  The boat we took was a river taxi.  It obviously was used frequently for some of the other passengers.  We rode up a river that was very like the San Juan which Jerry and I had been on before.  There were giant trees lush vegetation and palms complete with howler monkeys and many birds.  The only habitations visible were small shacks that were raised on pilings.  It was a good thing as the river was very high and most were surrounded by water.  We saw faces peering out at us as we passed.  The usual chickens and pigs were missing as there were no yards.

The pleasant ride was over in about an hour when we broke out into Lake Nicaragua.  It is HUGE.  We  could barely see the other shores.  It is the largest lake in Central America.  We crossed the end of the lake to San Carlos.  As we got off we were in the midst of chaos which is a part of a border or port town.   As soon as gringos are spotted we are viewed as a source of money or entertainment or curiosity for many.  We guarded our stuff and made our way the couple of block to the bus depot.  We were destined to travel by bus to Rama, there to catch another boat. The dock area is a very unappealing touristy area with lots of cheap stuff for sale.  None of us were interested in buying anything but it was very colorful and interesting.  We found our bus and a bathroom (both equally important).  It was about 2:30 when we docked and about 4:00 when we left.  The bus was old and looked like it was used hard.  It reminded us of a berry bus.  The seats were spaced very close together  with very little legroom for the smallest of us.  Jerry, with his long legs, really had to sit sideways more than forward.   Most of us had seats that were partially broken or had weird springs underneath, but we had seats.

As soon as we took off we were on a dirt road.  Our driver was very bold and drove at max speed.  There was soft dirt and gravel in places as the road was under construction the whole way.  These places made the bus tilt alarmingly at times.  We did have to slow down to cross many temporary bridges that were barely wider than the bus.

We traveled through a very rural, rustic  area with no cities.  As dark fell we saw some electric lights but not that many.  There were many small cabins or sheds surrounded by pigs, chickens, and playing children.  None had windows, just open shutters.  Many men rode horses, and often we saw several horses tied up to very tiny cantinas or bars.  We stopped frequently to exchange passengers and at one stop we loaded about 8 large tubs of cheese.  The bus driver’s helper carried them each to the top of the bus up a ladder with the tubs on his head.

We were grateful for widows which opened during the trip as the temperature was quite hot.  We did choose to close them however when milk draining from the cheese began dripping down the sides of the bus and raining in on us.



Here is the volcano we saw from San Jose when we were leaving




The Galloper which was not to be our transport after all




In Los Chiles, Costa Rica this guy flagged us down for a "walking through the town tax"  when we came back we walked a different road to avoid him and never had to pay.




Immigration at Los Chiles on our way out of the country




Our river taxi down the Rio Frio to San Carlos




As you can see the river was really high and the people living here needed boats to get home for sure.




One of the magnificant trees on the river.  It is giant to look at and home to many creatures.




Our bus from San Carlos to San Pedro




The flavor of San Carlos




Off we go on the bus




Breakfast before we board the river boat in Rama taking us to Bluefields




Jerry on our boat and the boat off to the side that was mistakenly thought would be ours.




Our boat which turned out to be a great, fun ride.  We had to hold our hats.




Pastors Henry on left and Larry on right




A passenger on the Captain D




Loading the lumber.




The hammocks looked pretty comfortable but many were way up in the air and over peoples heads.  It would take an experienced person to get in with confidence.




One of many food sales people who circulated while the boat was docked.  I believe we bought empanadas from him.




A neighboring boat.  You can see the typical sleeping quarters in the back.



Market day for some.

The next leg of the journey was supposed to be on another bus.  This bus was to drop us off in San Pedro where the bus to Rama would pick us up in a few minutes.  We got off at almost 9:00 after 4 1/2 hours of travel grateful for a few minutes break.  We walked the block to the bus stop.  There was a little food stand there when the people who were there informed us that the bus had just left 10 minutes ago.  We would have 2 hours to wait to catch one at 11 pm. Yikes!  We sat there at this well-lit, but rural crossroad somewhat resigned to sit for the duration.  We hoped it was safe to be here after dark.  We started talking about the fact that God could make a divine appointment for us when a taxi drove up.  He already had a passenger, but asked if we needed a ride to Rama. We told him we were 6 people, but he shrugged and said to get in anyways.  The poor guy who had the taxi first, was put on the top of the trunk that contained our 50 or more pounds of luggage.  Not knowing if it was possible, the rest of us folded into the taxi.  It was a Hyundai Elantra (sp), a very small car with room for 5. We all made 8 plus luggage.  Dale sat in front and the other 5 of us sat on top of each other in cemented positions  of extreme discomfort, but it still was preferable to waiting there in the dark. 

Trunk guy got off in about 20 minutes.  He had a very poor ride as the driver didn’t slow down for him at all.  It seemed pretty scary.  Every mile or so we ran into topes (huge speed bumps common all through Central America). We had to zig zag over them at turtle speed and still we scraped bottom on each one.  At one point we had to stop and let the taxi drivers brakes cool off.  They were smoking.  The taxi driver was the first one on the trip that was continually trying to bless us with music.  Right behind us was the back speaker and he like to turn the music up way past comfort or pleasure to where we had to shout.

Every time we stopped and he got out or whenever we could we turned the music down or off, but he restored it when he came back.  At last, at last we pulled in to Rama after 2 hours. It gave us a new comparison for the journey. “ well its better than the taxi” was our new measure.

The hotel we were taken to was called Dulce Sueno or sweet sleep or dreams.  We were so ready.  We heartily thanked our driver who had aged his taxi considerably for us.  The rooms had little to recommend except they were there and cheap and sort of clean.

Some of us woke up with bad headaches as we think that the beds had been sprayed with insecticide, but then none of us got bitten while in bed either.

We were in Rama.  Yeah.

We made our way to the next leg of the journey which was another river boat to Bluefields.  We actually met the pastors Larry and Henry there at the dock.  We ate there and saw a beautiful boat which we assumed was ours.  Wow luxury.  When we went to get on, we found it was not.  Awww.  Ours was small and seated  about 15.  It actually was a good thing as it got up and scooted.  It was a fun ride on a fast boat in the open air and washed the headaches away.  This river the Condito River was much larger and had barge and freighter traffic.  There were many boats docked along the river used as housing as well.  We were flagged down by one freighter to take on a sick young woman to get her to town faster than they would.

After a pleasant ride, we arrived in Bluefields.  Again the border-town, port-town theme took over. Many people mobbed us with requests to carry luggage, shine our shoes and just to befriend us and tell us what to do. It was sad to see the little shoe shine boys look us over mournfully with all of us in flip flops.

We got our tickets for a 12:00 sailing of a cargo ship named the Captain D that was to take us out to Corn Island.  It supposedly was a 4 hour journey, but the leaving time might depend a little on how the cargo loading went.

We got to a bar the pastors took us to for food and ordered by 11:15 or so.  Again with the music. We were seated under a giant speaker which was cranked up playing mostly American country music.  We shouted our orders to the waitress, only 2 small orders and we waited.  We slowly got our cokes one by one and drank those and waited.  As noon approached we got a little anxious that the boat was getting ready to sail. One of the pastors went to see, and said the boat wouldn’t sail until at least 12:30 as 12 came and went and we continued to shout to each other and observe only very sad looking old men ( who were probably young when they came in) sitting there.  We finally got concerned enough to get up to find the missing waitress and tell her we had to leave.  She ran out of the bar to go down the street to get some to go boxes.  We paid and a little after 12:30 we left with our food.  We ran to the dock and were relieved to see some piles of concrete and lumber left to load up. Oh well, better to wait a little than miss it.  The boat only sails twice a week. 

It was a great experience, like out of a book to get on that boat.  They said it was an old coast guard boat, well over 100 feet long.  We climbed up on the upper deck past the 4 large pigs sleeping on deck to the passenger area.  There was a large canopy where most people were out of the sun but we were happy to get seats even though in the sun and figured we would cool down once we sailed.  We ate our to go food and sat.  The horn tooted at 1:30, but we didn’t actually sail until 2:00.  It was a fascinating place to observe people.  There was a very old skinny Nicaraguan man in a Japanese animaeshirt, a number of Rasta-looking guys with dredlocks, several Europeans, a troop of girls who looked American, but were very stand-offish and were only Spanish speaking and many locals going home.  Overhead were many hammocks swinging with people resting in them already.

Down below was two heads (bathrooms) and a galley serving food and pop.  We were glad to sail as it was much cooler underway.  When an hour had passed we got to a border station where we stopped at  a dock for inspection.

We had been sitting for a long while when word circulated that there was a problem with the large amount of lumber that was on board.  It seems that there was no permit for it.  The captain said there were many officials arguing about it and he would let them argue it out.  He had taken lumber many times before with no problems.  The lumber was ordered by a woman for her house.  Well 1 hour, then 2, then 3 went by and they were still arguing.  Finally the decision was made.  The lumber had to come off. The crew began to work at that at piled it on the dock.  After the lumber was unloaded, it seems that they discovered that all was well with the permits after all.  We were unsure if that meant reloading, but we were on the boat and it was better than the taxi.  At 6:30 or so we pulled out under the stars to sail for Corn Island.

End of Part 1.