Destination: Volcano Cerro Negro, an active volcano 25km from Leon, Nicaragua. Mission: To sledge down the side of the black sand volcano on a wooden board as fast as we possibly could. Purpose: None whatsoever. Total utter madness. Equipment: One pair of goggles. One orange jump suit Guantanamo-style. One piece of plywood slighty larger than a skateboard, patched at the bottom with a metal sheet, topped with three cross timbers and a bit of rope with a handle. No expense spared. Going up: It was a well marched pathway, made tougher by the fact we were each carrying our own boards. [View Full Entry]

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There's only one thing more awkward than leaving a message on an answerphone. Leaving the message in Spanish, asking to meet a lady who has no idea who I am, whilst being watched by three (greatly amused) staff of the Hotel Boston. Maybe because of the entertainment value or out of sympathy, they refused to charge us for the call. I was trying to contact Zoila - to cut a long story short, a friend of a mum of a friend back home. We had her name, a phone number, plus some photos and a small gift from Ireland, carried through [View Full Entry]

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"I've just spotted a little owl." It's 5.40am and my heart misses a beat. A man with a white plaited beard is standing in the far corner of the room. What the hell, has he been in here all night?! I remember where I am. It's Malcolm the bird man. We met Malcolm the night before in the D&D brewery, near Los Naranjos. Malcolm is originally from Ipswich in England and I'd say he is in his sixties. His speech was soft and slowed, like someone pressing the slightest of touches on a record of his voice spinning on a turntable [View Full Entry]

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It seemed we were all alone. When entering the park, the cupboard-like box office was empty. We made our way down a short lane, not a soul in sight. Large trees joined hands and formed a tunnel of green, the bright midday sun shone over the river at the end. Grinning like Cheshire cats thinking we got away without paying the 40 Lempira entrance fee, half way down the path the ticket man appears. He took our money and offered to take us INTO the waterfall! Surely not. We must have taken him up wrong, lost in translation. The riverbank was [View Full Entry]

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The Location: Utila, the smallest of the Caribbean Bay Islands and also the closest to the mainland Honduras, less than 30km away. At night the orange glow of La Ceiba´s city lights can be seen across the water. Most of the 6,000 inhabitants live in Utila Town and I´d say with confidence that after only five days here I could recognise at least half of them. We´ve seen the same people constantly, almost an embarrasingly large number of time in one day. Unlike the rest of Honduras, the islanders speak English with a strong Caribbean lilt. Ya man. Our Mission: To [View Full Entry]

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There is no single episode in El Salvador that stands out for us. Previous blogs flowed with ease from the memory box. This did not. So here´s a general review of the 6 days we spent in the country. On 2nd January, we left wonderful green Guatemala and headed for its brown deforested neighbour. El Salvador is the smallest country in Central America - its about the size of Wales but a lot more cramped for space (6.7 million vesrsus 2.9 million). The Border Crossing No man´s land was a sweaty 300m hike. The sun cooked up the tar and returned [View Full Entry]

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The ground was starting to get hot, as warm as a freshly baked loaf to the touch. We were getting close. James and I were near the summit of Volcano Pacaya - a smoking giant in the south corner of Guatemala. We had seen it puffing away from a distance in the mini-van from Antigua, the wind carrying its smoke clouds northwards over the dirty sprawl that is Guatemala city. It looked cool enough from there, but on the upper reaches of the active volcano, blurry heatwaves shimmered up off the ground. At our feet between jagged volcanic rocks were fiery [View Full Entry]

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Markets in Guatemala are colourful and bustling. From the Aladdin´s Cave that is the indoor market in Panajachel to the hectic Friday morning affair in Solola or the fruit and veg stalls lining the streets of San Pedro - the sights and sounds make Dublin´s Moore Street seems subdued. These markets around the Lake Atitlan attract traders in traditional dress from the surrounding highland villages who come and sell everything and anything you can think of. While staying on the Lake Atitlan, the markets have been a great source for our daily dose of avocadoes, bananas and tortillas. Lake At [View Full Entry]

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Beep, beep. Beep, beep. I raise my hand from beneath the sheets and into the freezing cold air of our room. In a quick flash the silence returns, but the damage is done. We are awake. It´s 4.30am in Quetzaltenango (Xela to the locals), deep in the Guatemalan highlands - hence the cold conditions. Today we climb a volcano! We fumble about as we dress in a semi-state of sleep, made even more difficult by the dim bulb no brighter than candle light. We pull on the layers - vest, long sleeve top, jumper, t-shirt, hoody, combats, woolly hat, the obligatory [View Full Entry]

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Semuc Champey is without a doubt the most beautiful location we have visited so far in Central America, even an overcast sky could not detract from its beauty. The word beautiful actually seems like a lame way of describing it - the place is a natural wonder and I have never heard or read about a similar phenomenon. The Rio Cahabon is a rushing gushing torrent of water, which thunders down from a picture perfect misty mountain valley covered in every shade of green imaginable. Then at Semuc Champey the river is suddenly gone, it disappears down through a hole deep, [View Full Entry]

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