More catchups…
March 21, 2011
For words and pictures on the ride from Mocoron to the Atlantic coast in Nicaragua and down to Granada, just click on one of the bananas below…
Click a banana for more on Nicaragua's Moskitia.
Further travels with Megan and Little Baby Neva, Nicaragua
February 21, 2011
This last week has seen something of a change in my usual cycle touring routine. Biking with a 15 month baby will do that, it seems…
Our destination: the twin volcanos of Isla de Ometepe, in Lago de Nicaragua. It's the perfect double-gem of an island. For further mystique, Ometepe is set in the only lake in the world home to freshwater sharks...
Megan towing her little offspring, Neva, on the backroads of the Nicaraguan Pacific coast.
Our visit to the idyllic, peaceful island of Ometepe yielded a camp spot with this incredible view. If you're headed that way, check at the organic coffee farm, Finca Magdalena in Balgue.
With its dappled, moss-stained terracotta tiles, we might have been in a rural village tucked away in Tuscany.
Central America is prime hammock swinging terrain. And in Neva's case, a good opportunity to develop those useful baby climbing skills.
The view from our next camp spot: the perfect upturned funnel of Volcan Conception, with its early evening nightcap of wispy cloud.
Uh oh. Neva makes a run for it while Megan's attention is focused on pitching their tent. At fifteen months old, she's still honing her walking technique. Towards the end of the day, when tiredness creeps in, it's known as Drunken Style.
Expect some rough backcountry roads away from the main highways.
Nothing the Chariot couldn't handle, though with its nifty weight adjusted, leafspring suspension. It's no wonder this is the Range Rover of trailers.
The food that kept us riding. This is a typical Nicaraguan breakfast. Gallo Pino is precooked rice flecked with beans and spices. Hence the name: Speckled Hen.
Makes a change from baby food...
Refresco de pina. Delicious.
Other roadside delicacies - unfurling these dried leaf wrappers revealed a sugary treat embedded with peanuts.
I'm used to stopping and mixing up a sachet of isotonic powder to keep me going. This last week, it's been about pulling over to mix up a bottle of baby milk. That one's a new experience.
Neva and Megan cooling off in the calming, healing waters of Ojo de Agua.
We also took some time out to hike a trail leading to an organic coffee plantation, using the Deuter Kenga Kid II, a packpack that expands like an accordion to hold a baby.
Taking a break amongst compartmentalising roots of these mighty trees. We saw sloths, heard howler monkeys and chased big, bright blue butterflies, that flapped around us with clumsy grace.
As well as this two metre snake, that shook its rattle at us before slithering off into the undergrowth.
Spot the monkey silhouette.
These seed pods that made great rattles for Neva.
One of Ometepe's perfectly preserved, timewarpped trucks, loaded up with a fair few meals worth of tasty plantanes.
Here she is, after a particularly gnarly section of trail. Her bottle worked itself free from her kung fu baby grip, but that was about it.
Whenever we passed other families, we would exchange knowing little smiles. School children ran alongside us to peek inside the the trailer, marvelling that there was a baby inside. Motorbikes doubled back to check us out and chat on the move. Everyone waved.
Celebrity status: checking out the trailer and its contents.
Some helping hands up those steep island inclines.
And off the ferry - El Che - to the mainland once more.
Reaching the Pacific Coast at Playa Gigante, a quiet backwater beach known only to surfers for its nearby breaks.
We camped beside a surf shack that served up a mean portion of fish tacos, on groovy tables made out of surfboards.
A dirt road, via Chocolata, lead us to this funky coloured guesthouse in San Juan del Sur, the main tourist hub in the area.
Megan is loving her petite Surly Troll, by the way. And that 'Agent Orange' finish goes nicely with the Chariot too. Thanks Stuart at Bike Shop Hub for putting it all together with such expertise.
And a last sunset over the Pacific Ocean...
Final thoughts.
Several families have embarked on inspiring, adventurous trips with their offspring across Latin America – like these guys. Our mini tour has certainly opened up my eyes to the possibility of travelling this way myself one day.
Here’s some initial thoughts gleaned from these last few days of travel:
We didn’t end up covering as much ground as we’d planned, partly due to over optimistic planning, and partly because Megan was still recovering from a virus she picked up in Arizona. But that’s ok, as it was still an amazing experience.
Everything takes three times as long. Maybe four. From getting ready in the morning, to pulling over for a break, to stopping for lunch, to pitching the tent. It’s called the Neva Factor. Patience is key…
Make sure you factor in extra pitstops to deal with baby stuff: different feeding schedules, nappy changing and all the rest.
We kept distances short, maybe 20-40kms depending on the terrain. Neva was happy spending a few hours in the trailer each day, but it was important to make sure she had plenty of time to explore too.
Fit both your bikes with trailer hitches so you can interchange the precious cargo. Kickstands are useful to make hopping off your bike easier to deal with any baby issues that may arise.
A side mirror would be handy too, to help check what’s behind you when you need to pull out.
Tape extra reflective patches onto the back of the trailer. We were kindly donated a bright orange workman’s jacket to make us more visible to the kamikaze truck drivers barrelling down to the Costa Rican border.
Local buses can easily accomodate a trailer and a couple of bikes on their roofrack for a few pesos, if you need to make up some time.
In a country like Nicaragua, you can’t control the environment around you in the way you may be used to at home. Trust that things will be ok; people will go out of their way to help you out.
This is most likely obvious to everyone but me… Looking after a baby is an (almost) 24 hour undertaking, so pace yourself when you’re riding and save extra energy for the end of the day. I don’t know how Megan does it. She’s an amazing mum.
Just go for it. Cycling touring brings out the best in people around you, and touring with a child doubly so. Travelling as a family really opens up a new world of cultural encounters.
Neva: there goes the bottom lip... Actually, I was amazed by how readily she adapted to the constant changes unfolding around her - including being scooped up by a tall, sweaty, dreaded-locked cyclist. She ate local food, had an insatiable appetite to explore, and loved nothing more than to run amok amongst anyone she met. It wasn't always plain sailing though. Her independent streak did manifest itself in the odd curled bottom lip and ensuing, high volume temper tantrum...
Neva. A very mellow little creature. Bless! I'm not sure how much she'll remember of this short journey, but perhaps it will play a part in shaping her into who she becomes.
Megan works at Bike Hub Shop, online touring and commuting specialists based out of Flagstaff, Arizona. She’s knows her kiddy trailers inside out, so check out the site and drop her a line if you need some advice. The trailer we used was made by Chariot, and included the front wheel kit for use as a stroller.
No Spot, but we’re still here.
February 20, 2011
Where we are now: San Juan del Sur.
As I probably won’t get a chance to update the blog for a little, this mini-post is just to let you know the three of us are still alive and well. In fact, Neva is handling the roughest Nicaraguan tracks like a travelling veteran – having been towed in the back of a trailer since she was 6 months old, she has an enviable ability to drop straight off to sleep, blissfully unaware of the trailer tipping this way and that. When she’s awake and roaming, well, there’s no stopping her.
And in case anyone has been checking in on the SPOT, you needn’t. Unfortunately that got stolen on Day 2…
More soon.
Riding the hand-laid, paved road back to Moyogalpa, Volcan Maderas and Lago de Nicaragua in the background.
Cocooned. The mesh liner is good at keeping mosquitos out, and little children in. Sometimes, it seems like only the tent can contain Neva and her insatiable (and sometimes exhausting) appetite to roam...
Must... grab... stray... skinny... ferral... dog.
We've found some great camping spots, like in the grounds of this sprawling organic coffee finca.
On the road. Neva, always a hit with the locals at every stop we make.
Reaching the Pacific at Playa Gigante, after a long day in the saddle (and in the trailer). This is the first time I've swam in the Pacific Ocean since Oaxaca, Mexico, many months ago. And it felt good...
Heading out to Ometepe again – this time with unusual company!
February 16, 2011
There’s still a few missing posts to complete the Moskitian adventure… But as I’ve lost my Moleskin crammed with all my notes, as well as my maps (dufus), I’ll have to catch up on that later…
In the meantime, Flagstaffian Megan has arrived in Costa Rica to join me for the next nine days. And she’s brought company, in the tiny form of her 15 month daughter, Neva, who we’ll be towing in a trailer! The next week promises to be unlike any tours I’ve embarked on before, with a whole new set of challenges…
Our original idea was to loop around Monteverde National Park, but expensive shuttle logistics in Costa Rica ruled that notion out. A last minute change of plan was in order. I’d found idyllic Isla de Ometepe to be relaxed, safe and largely traffic free – ideal trailer pulling terrain. So the next morning, we found ourselves piling onto a bus and heading north to Nicaragua once more…
Riders: Megan + Neva. Setup: Surly Troll + Chariot trailer.
Neva's little mobile home for the next nine days.
And Megan's steed, a fresh-off-the-press Surly Troll, seen here in miniature 14in form.
We bused out to the Nicaraguan border of Pinas Blancas, breezed through immigration, and then jostled for place amongst the 18 wheelers on the road to Rivas.
It wasn't long before the light was starting to drop, so we pulled in at the beautifully situated La Joya Eco-community and asked to camp in their land, amongst the coconut groves and the papaya trees. This was our twin volcano view across Lago Nicaragua...
We were warmly welcomed in by Himat and his family. Himat is an architect specialising in low impact structures, and has spent time in New Mexico's progressive Earthships - sustainable buildings I've long wanted to visit.
Mother and daughter.
Neva. Always on the move.
Here she comes...
A momentary pause for contemplation.
And she's gone...
Note to self: close framebag at night. When I reached in for my bottle of water in the morning, this little critter, wrapped up and fast asleep, gave me quite a surprise.
The gardener checked to see if it was venomous (it wasn't), then threw it back into the fields.
Looks like it could be windy round these parts... Himut is aiming to be off the grid at some point, and with all this sunshine and wind, it's the natural way forwards.
Luckily it was in our favour, and a tailwind helped propel both us and the 30 windturbines along nicely.
The appropriately named Chariot in action. It's a real crowd puller - everyone cranes their necks to peek inside, cracking smiles as soon as they spot little Neva eyeballing them back.
Although the road was easy going, truck and bus traffic were heavier than we'd have liked. We'll be looping back via quieter pacific coast tracks.
Rarely a moment without that classic vista.
The boat over to the island. Bicycles and trailer were loaded up amongst local produce, motorbikes, and backpackers lounging in the sun. The one hour ride is just a dollar and a half each.
Closing in on those magnificent volcanos...
Neva, as ever, was as good as gold, despite the choppy waters. Upon seeing our unusual posse, the family-loving Nicaraguans were inevitably even friendlier than normal, if that is possible...
Landing in Moyogalpa, one of Ometepe's two tiny ports.
There, rising like a set from Jurassic Park, loomed the 1600m Volcan de Conception. Our plan is to ride across the island, before returning to the mainland and looping back to the Costa Rican border via the dirt tracks of the Pacific coast...
Puerto Cabezas and the Region Autonoma del Atlantico Norte, Nicaragua.
February 11, 2011
This next instalment in my catch-up posts covers the ride south from Mocoron (Honduras) to (Granada) Nicaragua, a distance of some 800kms, most of which is on rough, remote dirt roads.
RAAN, the Region Autonoma del Atlantico Norte, is home to a cultural melting pot of Creole, Mestizo and a indigenous groups, including Miskitos. I had to detour into its capital, Puerto Cabezas, to get my passport stamped. A ramshackle, sketchy Caribbean port, it’s infamous as a stop off for cocaine smugglers working their way north from Colombia.
Drug running is definitely a big part of life in these parts. One Roatanian living here told me about a high speed chase with a blacked out US Apache helicopter along the coast at night. He claimed in the right conditions, the boats – effectively superlight hulls with a row of outboard motors bolted onto the back – could do 80 knots. Unable to escape the beam of its search light despite pulling his best moves, he finally had to ditch the boat and its cargo of cocaine on the beach and disappear into the night… ‘I don’t do that anymore. It’s too stressful now I have a family. I just build fibreglass boats in the peace and quiet of the forest.’
Hm, I wonder what they’re for…
Loaded up and ready to leave wonderful Mocoron, where I'd been resting up for a couple of days. A huge thank you to Anita and Legia!
The girls saw me off with a few slabs of energy rich yukka coconut cake we'd made the day before.
Initially, the countryside almost felt reminiscent of the forest trails in Montana. Crossing from Leimus into Nicaragua was straight forward - just a dollar ride across the river in a dugout under a heavy downpour.
Welcome to Nicaragua.
Not long into the ride, I met Stefan, a Romanian motorbiker who'd travelled down from Canada. We'd first bumped into each other in La Ceiba, from where he'd taken a cargo boat to Puerto Lempira. We ended camping out together or staying in the same cheap digs for the next few days.
Stopping for a food in a Nicaraguan comedor as I entered RAAN.
The meal was one of the best I've had in a while - chicken, yucca, beans, rice and chopped tomatoes. It was all grown locally, and as a sat down and ate, the owner of the comedor joined me, a farmer who ran the business to help supplement his income. He'd seen a couple of touring cyclists pass by before and having chatted to them, had clearly been cogitating about bike touring. 'Rare is the man who really knows the world. You can't understand life from a car or plane. But on your bicycle, you see and experience everything,' he said.
Local rural transport in Northern Nicaragua. A long way from Montgomery School...
Red dirt. The road from Waspan to Puerto Lempira was mined with puddly potholes, thanks to the storms that rolles in above the vast, far reaching savannah.
On the road, and loving it.
I was joined by a local cyclist at one point. We climbed an observation tower for an epic view of this part of La Moskitia.
Repairing a puncture by knotting it off - a technique I hadn't seen before.
I kept playing tag with Stephan and his Kawasaki, as he had some welding he needed to deal with, and his customs paperwork took longer to process.
My biking buddy's home. I like the way it was partitioned for different members of the family.
Approaching Puerto Cabezas - known as Bilwi in Moskitian - a sketchy port home to Moskitians, Colombian cocaine smugglers and only the most tenacious of missionaries.
A leatherback chopped up and swarming with flies in the market - not a particularly heart warming sight for a turtle lover, like me. Apparently, turtles that aren't fully grown have to be thrown back in by law.
No shortage of bananas in these parts. The five stubs are the one I had for breakfast.
This local guy offered to show me around town, and we spent the afternoon together exploring some the backroads around Puerto Cabezas and the villages nearby.
From Puerto Cabezas, I'd been told it was a rough and remote 560kms to the capital Managua - and dirt all the way to Rio Blanco. To give you some idea how slow going it can be, it takes the bus 24 hours to cover that distance... That's an average of around 23 kilometres an hour.
And here's one such bus. Fast and Furious, reads the livery. That must be a relative term round here...
No wonder, with extended parts like this. If I put in some long days in the saddle, I figured I could make it in six days to colonial Granada, quieter and safer than the capital, and a little under 600kms away.
This surface was some of the worst I've ridden over, with thousands of small yet jagged rocks embedded into the earth.
Every once in a while, the road rippled with short yet steep stunted hills that afforded views over the pine forest and savannah.
One night I slept on the floor of this cheerful, Evangelical pastor. I was too tired too be kept up by the rousing nighttime singalong.
Civilisation, in the form of the bustling metropolis of La Rosita, bringing with it the promise of a good meal and some fresh fruit other than bananas...
La Rosita was also home to some cool utility bikes concocted with motorbike parts.
Check out that fork used to brace the rear triangle. These cost around $200 and are made locally.
Hanging out at the local bike shop.
The road alternated from bad to really bad. This particular stretch rattled my brains and loosed my fillings. Not to mention giving me a sore backside. Sometimes I could seek rattling sanctuary from sliver of smoothish trail along the very edge, riding faster than the transport trucks the deliver supplies up to Puerto Cabezas.
The area felt settled in the daytime, but I was told to be off the road before nightfall. I didn't run into any trouble, but I did pass through a small community close to Rio Blanco where three men had been held up killed just five days before, at three in the afternoon. 'Are you worried about travelling along?' was a question I was often asked. In fact, while I always received a warm welcome whether I went, the constant barrage of warnings crept into my subconscious and became unsettling.
The fine line between pleasure and pain. The odd kilometre or two was paved. But it was just that. One or two kilometres.
Try finding a way of pushing a fully loaded bike across this bridge... It's like playing a game of Tetris.
I'd been told security on this part of Nicaragua can be an issue, so I either slept in cheap truck stop guesthouses, at 2 dollars a pop, or camped in villages and army check points.
Cowboy country.
Kids selling oranges by the roadside, which I gratefully guzzled down. When I went to leave, they gave me a handful for the journey.
The buses got to know me as they plied the route, and unleashed ear bleeding hoots of their horns to greet me. It's the thought that counts...
In Rio Blanco, I saw this custom rack for carrying a gas bottle on the streets of Rio Blanco.
Adjustable in size too, depending on the brand of bottle.
NGO handywork - one of the many water pumps in RAAN. This area took a big hit in the Contra War, and there was evidence of foreign aid programs all around.
Yep, one muddy bike...
And then, from Rio Blanco, the road was paved! Woohoo!
Blossoming trees by the roadside. These are called Guayacan.
I stopped off at this little shop, and got chatting to Nora, who took a real interest in the journey. I asked to take a photo of her, and she surprised me by asking if I had any photos of me and my bike. 'Very few people will make a journey like this. It would be nice to remember our meeting.'
She got her daughter to climb the orange tree and pick me a bunch.
Nora's pooches, lazing by her roadside shop.
Hm... honey. Better still, sold out of Fleur de Cana recyled rum bottles.
Enormous avocados sold by the roadside - perfect bike food.
This sign meant a lot to me. After negotiating all the Mosquito Coast, culminating in this last six days of hard riding, I was less than an hour from my destination.
And Granada, less than an hour later... My Moskitian adventure was finally over. Epic is a world that's thrown around a lot these days. This journey definitely felt like it justified it.
While Out Riding clip!
February 7, 2011
Out on the remote Honduran and Nicaraguan border, I bumped into Stefan, a Romanian/Canadian who’s motorbiked down from Alberta. Having loaded his bike onto a cargo vessel bound for Puerto Lempira, he’s also headed south to Argentina. It was good to have some company, and we ended up camping out at a military post together, and overnighting in a couple of cheap guesthouses before his 650cc Kawasaki left me in the dust!
This little clip was shot along the dirt road that cuts across the open pine savannah between Waspan and Puerto Cabezas, using his iphone. Music by The Acorn, the Flood Pt2. Thanks Stefan!
Onto Ahuas, La Moskitia
February 7, 2011
Biding farewell to Belen, I caught the 5am collectivo across the laguna and through the mangroves to Brus.
Sunrise. Peaceful.
Jerusalem. Wonder who gave this village that name?
Fellow travellers of the waterways in a pipante, a dugout made from a single trunk of wood.
Reaching Brus Laguna, a clamorous little town boasting all the modcons - bars, a restaurant and electricity.
My first stop was Ahuas, which somewhat unexpectedly, sits on the edge of the massive pine savannah that makes up much of the La Moskitia. In Belen I'd been given the address of a family, who could help me figure out to the footpaths I hoped would lead me all the way to Mocoron.
A warm welcome.
Karla, and her son, little Nelson
A room with a view.
My reading matter. Paul Theroux' The Mosquito Coast. Appropriately enough, this part recounts the construction of the Icycle, a boat made from recycled bike parts to ferry ice deep into La Moskitia.
This is Hiroshi - named after a Japanese aid worker who'd lived in the area. His mum, Cruz, is a nurse and the Moskitian equivalent of a hippy. She loves to walk everywhere, simply to explore, and was often garbed a funky ti-dye dress. While others fretted about my safety, she encouraged me to venture off the beaten path.
Prop planes occasionally buzzed overhead.
The runway.
The school.
The hospital, said to be one of the best in the region, and very affordable too.
This is Melgar McLeod, riding a handcranked vehicle donated by the hospital. His name reflects the British influence in La Moskita in the eighteen century, and at first I thought he might be a veteran of the Nicaraguan civil war that spilled over into Honduras. In fact Melgar was a lobster diver, big business in these parts. Like many, he's ended up crippled with nerve damage due to excessive diving, decompression sickness and poor safety regulations. On a couple of occasions, I saw young men hobbling painfully down the beach like old invalids. 'This is no way to live a life,' said one mournfully.
One of the doctors, Olvelio, trained in Cuba - as many Hondurans do - and kindly let me use the turtle-slow internet while we watched Honduras beat Costa Rica in the Central Honduran cup. Olvelio's cousin, from the tiny settlement of Iriona, plays in the Premiership in England!
And Ahua's church. Or at least, one of them. However you may feel about it, Christianity is firmly entrenched in La Moskitia. Missionaries have long been penetrating even the furthest reaches of this remote land - in fact, this region of Honduras is even called Gracias a Dios. Thanks to God...
Room for a growing congregation.
God's fingers?
For the most part, it was hot and clear. But heavy rainshowers pelted down during the day. I was worried how this might effect my onward journey across the plains, but was assured the trails would be bone dry. (more on that later...)
Life is simple here. Cooking is done in an earth oven - here's some piping fresh coconut bread. There's no electricity or running water, though some families now own small generators which they turn on in the evening so they can watch telenovelas (latin american soap operas) and charge up their all important cell phones. Cell phone masts are becoming omnipresent, and changing the whole social dynamic of the area.
This is the shower block. It's the old, tried and tested bucket wash technology.
First you need water though from one of the wells, using a bucket lowered with a rope.
Might as well scrub clothes at the same time. Ready for the next round...
Biding farewell to Karla and her mother Yudina, who treated me wonderfully, plying me with simple, local food. Beans Beans Beans...
They fretted about my safety, as few people travel alone here, especially with no local knowledge of the footpaths. 'Where's your machete? La Moskitia isn't how it used to be. Only stay with Christians,' said Yudina, with complete seriousness. As a farewell, they loaded me up with lovely, energy-filled coconut pasties for the adventures ahead...
