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Published: October 10th 2006
To be completely honest, the Honduras part of our journey was a bit of a let down for us. It seemed a bit more dangerous than the other places we’ve visited (although I don’t know that it is), and due to the different accent I struggled to communicate much more than normal. Now to be fair, we really weren’t there long enough to form a proper opinion or to write the place off completely, and there were a couple of spots that we really liked. But all in all, the place just didn’t do it for us. Maybe it was because we started out on the wrong foot.
Our journey into Honduras was rough. And it wasn’t just the getting up at three in the morning to catch our little tourist shuttle. It was more due to the absolutely insane way the guy behind the wheel tried to drive. (Notice that I didn’t call him the driver. I’m not sure what he was doing, but it certainly wasn’t any kind of driving that I’ve seen before. And on this trip we’ve seen some pretty fine examples of crap drivers.) With this guy it was either pedal to the metal or
slamming on the brake which made the ride a little rough to stay the very least. He also liked to gas it, swerve out into oncoming traffic and then panic, slam on the brake, and shove his way back into his lane with a blast of the horn. In fact, the only thing he was really good at was using his horn. None of this made it very easy to catch a few extra hours of sleep during the journey.
At about 10:30 in the morning, we finally pulled into Copan exhausted from an already long day. After a quick power nap and lunch in the hotel, we made our way to the ruins on the outskirts of town. I had really looked forward to seeing these particular ruins since I missed out on seeing them during my last trip to Central America. And they were really different than the others that we have visited, but geesh, we were tired and just not capable of making the most of them. We didn’t have the motivation to explore and climb on everything like we usually have so much fun doing during trips to see ruins. But we dug deep and
mustered up the energy to check out some of the highlights of the sight and can assure you that with a good night’s sleep we would have really dug on the ruins here.
For instance, we sat for a good while in the shade at the foot of an incredible hieroglyphic stairway that was created to record the history of the ancient city. This impressive stairway stands about 150 feet high and about 25 feet across, and every surface is carved with elaborate hieroglyphics that tell the details of the city throughout the centuries when it was at its prime. Unfortunately, when the stairway was discovered years ago, it had crumbled down and the stones were all in disarray. The archaeologists did their best to reconstruct the stairway at that time, but couldn’t be certain of the specific locations of all of the many stones. Nowadays, teams of scientists from many different fields are working together to try to reassemble it the way it was originally built, a task that could take a good long time.
We also admired some of the many stelae (upright stone slabs ornately carved with representations of the city’s rulers on one side
and lengthy hieroglyphic descriptions of their accomplishments on the other) for which Copan is famous. And we also marveled at the eerie ways ceiba trees have broken through the rock constructions over the centuries and grown into gorgeous giants.
We had wanted to visit some of the tunnels that archaeologists have built over the years of exploration of the site and that are now open to the public. However, they wanted $15 extra just to enter the tunnels, and entry to the site is already one of the most expensive we’ve visited (at $10 each and no student discount—I think I’m starting to be a little spoiled with all the discounts my little ISIC card has been getting me, including free entry into many of the sites). I tried to sweet talk one of the archaeologist ranger dudes into letting us in—telling him how we were robbed and all and just didn’t have the money, but gosh how we would love to explore the tunnels. He didn’t budge. Instead, (bless his heart) he decided to expound on all sorts of stuff about the Mayans and the site for near on twenty minutes in the blazing sun. Too bad we
already knew most all of what he said from visiting previous sites, and we really just wanted to find some shade and relief from the sun.
So instead of the tunnels, we took a little nature trail that was quite beautiful but so full of mosquitoes that we were so busy dancing and swatting to really enjoy any nature. And we also had loads of fun playing with the dozen or so macaws that liked to hang out around the entry gate.
The actual town of Copan (which is named Copan Ruins, just to really confuse folks) is quite nice, and we wish we would have had more time to spend there. It’s nestled in a river valley among some beautiful green hills full of butterflies. And the hotel where we stayed offered all sorts of fun ways of exploring the area, like horseback riding and tubing down the river. I hate that we’re running out of time now, and we can’t take advantage of the good stuff when we find it.
But we had a schedule to keep. So the next day, we had a long day busing across Honduras to the city of La Ceiba
on the Northern coast where we had arranged to do some white water rafting on the Cangrejal River in the Pico Bonito National Park. I have to say that my first impressions of the city weren’t so favorable. It might have been due to the fact that just about every establishment we visited had someone guarding the locked front door. If the guard decided you looked alright to enter, he then wanded you down to make sure you weren’t carrying a weapon. We visited a popular expat bar in the city for dinner and questioned the owner if the city was as dangerous as it seems. After a long explanation about how the guards and metal detectors are only for prevention and how this particular city really is quite safe, he also added that he doesn’t go anywhere without his bodyguard. GREAT!!!! I wonder which cities he considers unsafe.
The next morning we were very happy to get out of the city and into the gorgeous jungly mountains where we could enjoy a little tranquility and forget about all the metal detectors and body guards for awhile. Up at the river, we stayed at a beautiful and peaceful lodge
Paul taking a big leap
But not quite as big as the Fremantle Bridge.overlooking some of the rapids where we relaxed and played games with a Norwegian couple that were the only other folks there.
And even though the actual rafting portion of our trip into the park only lasted a meager 45 minutes, our guides made up for it some by showing us all sorts of fun ways to play in the rapids without a raft. We jumped off and slid down some of the enormous, round boulders that fill the riverbed. And the guides also taught us how to swim the rapids (when to relax and ride with them and when to swim like hell). After some practice, we floated a good stretch of the river in our life vests alone and even went down a small waterfall on our own. It was really quite scary, but so much fun, and to be honest, I felt pretty tough when we were done.
The next day we were going to catch a public bus that is supposed to run past the river lodge at nine. At ten-thirty, we were still waiting and starting to get a little nervous. Traffic on the road was pretty thin, and we knew that if
we had to wait until the afternoon bus came by that we would never catch the ferry out to the islands that we were hoping to catch. I was starting to get a bit unpleasant.
Then, lucky us, up pulls a taxi with a Puerto Rican guy named Chino who was passing by the different rafting companies and hostels with flyers for the dive shop he worked for out in Utila. The taxi driver offered us a free lift back to town and even took us to the bus station to buy a ticket we needed to get for a later trip (cause Chino’s boss had hired him for the day). Then he dropped all of us at the mall to eat lunch (at Wendy’s!!!) and pass a few hours before picking us up again and hauling us to the ferry dock. We felt pretty Hollywood with our very own chauffer, that’s for sure.
The ferry ride to the island of Utila was rough. There was a big rainstorm that turned up just as we were loading our gear on to the boat and stayed with us all the way to the island 32 kilometers out to sea.
The boat was rocking back and forth pretty violently and several folks on board were looking awfully green.
Once on solid ground, we decided to check out the place where Chino works mostly because it’s known to have the best dock in the bay and I was planning on spending lots of time there, relaxing in a hammock and trying to avoid the sand flies on land. And the dock was every bit as good as I imagined. In fact, Utila as a whole was so much better than I expected. I had heard such horror stories about the ferocious sand flies from other tourists who had already been out there, that I was quietly dreading our trip out there. If it wasn’t for Paul’s excitement to do some of the fantastic and dirt cheap diving that the island is famous for, I would have given the place a pass.
I’m glad we didn’t. The island feels a lot like the islands of Belize. English and Creole are spoken much more frequently that Spanish, and the population of the island is much more diverse than mainland Honduras. Even though the island is a bit bigger than Caye Caulker,
most of the town is centered along two main roads and there are virtually no cars. Instead everyone rides their bicycles around the island with great big smiles on their faces. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a warmer, friendly place. Even all the dive industry folks were fantastic and without the attitude you often find in guides of adventure sports. But best of all, the place is cheap!! We easily found delicious meals for under five dollars, and a pint of rum was just over two smackers. Can’t beat that!
So yes, there were plenty of horrible sand flies that kept me awake at night despite spraying my body with a heavy coat of bug spray. But, the sunny days jumping off the end of the dock in between long stints of reading and dozing in the hammocks in the breeze coming off the Caribbean Sea, made it very easy to forget about the restless nights. And from the sounds of it, the quality of the diving that Paul got to enjoy during the two fun dives he took, made it easy for him to put up with the little buggers too. Spending the evening
drinking rum and cokes and dancing until I couldn’t feel my feet (with the most flamboyant coked-up fellow I’ve ever met) also does wonders at helping to sleep through the sand fly attacks.
And I haven’t even mentioned the little snorkeling trip we made at the far end of the bay. I braved the ocean once again with Paul patiently by my side at one of the island’s many reefs just feet from the shore. And even though I still am not totally sure about all of this underwater craziness, I was fascinated by more beautiful and spooky coral reefs and all the weird and wonderful little creatures we saw there. Best of all, no sneaky sharks or stingrays surprised us with an unexpected visit.
After two fantastic days of island life, we pulled ourselves out of bed to catch a 6:30 ferry back to the mainland where we began two long days of travel. We bussed from La Ceiba to Honduras’ capital, Tegucigalpa, another city that I easily could have missed. But we found another Wendy’s, and a nice hotel with cable TV where we could catch up on the news of the world. Then the next
morning we were up early again to catch a bus that would take across the border and to Nicaragua’s capital, Managua. Don’t even get me started about the border nonsense.
Anyhow, once in Managua, we caught a taxi from our bus’s station to the corner where we could find a minibus to Granada, where we were hoping to crash for the night. Sometimes, I am amazed at how well we do getting around places when we’re traveling. Since leaving Mexico, the bus system has been quite disorganized, but somehow we always end up getting where we need to go. Guide books are good.
In Granada, we settled into The Bearded Monkey, a fantastic hostel that we would have a hard time leaving. It was one of those great places where they have everything you possibly could need when traveling: internet, cheap food and drinks, water bottle refill, book exchange, movies every night, easy access to laundry facilities, lots of hammocks to relax in, and best of all tons of information on nearby places to visit. To top it all off, Paul was stoked to have two new beers to sample.
And the city of Granada was fantastic
too. It’s a colonial city (allegedly the oldest continually inhabited city in the America’s) which reminded me a bit of Antigua. It’s situated on the shores of Lake Nicaragua and is a bit of a hub for tourists traveling around Nicaragua. While there we took care of all sorts of administrative things, laundry, making reservations for later in the trip, mailing off some things to lighten our loads a little. And we also had a great time strolling around the city admiring the brightly painted buildings and eating Subway and yummy gelatos. We also took a horse-drawn carriage tour of the city (my very first horse-drawn carriage ride) where we were shown a few of the city’s parks and churches as well as famous folks’ homes (like the ex-president’s pad and the house where local hero and Yankees pitcher, Dennis Martinez grew up). Our last stop was the old gun powder storehouse/fort that the Spanish built and the corrupt Somoza government used during the country’s long and brutal civil war. At the fort we got to climb a watch tower to get a bird’s eye view of the city and were shown a well where Somoza’s men would throw the
bodies of the Sandinista prisoners after they were killed. Intense.
The next day we needed something a bit more easy-going. So we headed out to our hostel’s little refuge, The Monkey Hut, on a gorgeous nearby lake. Laguna de Apoyo is another lake formed by a collapsed volcanic cone. This whole area is framed in volcanoes, in fact, which make for fantastic views and reference points as every city seems to have at least one on the horizon.
The Monkey Hut is just about as serene and beautiful as it gets. We borrowed a kayak to explore the little lake, and when that got too difficult, we swam and floated on tubes in the lake for hours. (Yes, we got very sunburned.) Perhaps the best thing about the place is they had a little snack bar where you could buy food to fix yourself some lunch. Would you believe that I found a box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese?!?!?! Pure joy!
That night, we were picked up by a crazy French guy, named Lorenzo who was leading a camping tour to the beach to see sea turtles come in and lay their eggs at Refugio Vida Silvestre
La Flor. Paul and I were very excited, as getting a chance to see turtles nesting or hatching was one of the things we most wanted to do while in Central America. And this trip did not disappoint us one smidgen. Best of all, paying to see the turtles helps to pay for their protection—no easy task since turtle eggs have been part of the traditional menu in these parts for forever.
We arrived at the beach at night and as soon as we stepped foot on the beach we were told that there was a turtle nesting down the beach. We quickly made our way to where the mama was diligently working away at digging a hole to lay her eggs. Choosing a proper place to bury the eggs and digging a deep enough hole is serious business for these gals. In fact, once they start digging, they become so single-minded with the task that observers are allowed to sit as close as a meter a way to watch. It’s amazing to see their powerful back legs work so dexterously at carefully measuring the depth of the hole and grasping flipperfuls of sand to fling behind them. Then
once they feel satisfied with their work, they begin to lay their hundred or so ping-pong-sized eggs, which given the proper angle we could witness dropping into the hole. Once done, mama turtle then starts filling in the hole again and doing this really intricate dance to thump down the sand and cover up any signs that this was a nesting spot. When she’s satisfied that her babies will be safe from predators, she slowly makes her way back to the sea, and with luck, her babies will hatch and also journey into the sea forty-five days later. The whole process takes about an hour and was magnificent to watch.
During our evening at the beach, we were lucky enough to see a total of five turtles come in to hatch (on some nights flotillas of hundreds come in which is supposed to be quite a sight—but quite rare), including four Olive Ridley turtles (about 45 kilos) and one of the more endangered larger sea turtles. This last one was enormous, about a meter long and weighing over a hundred kilos. Because this type of turtle is so endangered, the rangers immediately gathered up her eggs, to protect them
until they hatch when they’ll be put back on the beach to make their way to the sea. The whole experience was amazing, and although we were a little disappointed that no babies hatched that night, it will easily be one of the most memorable moments of the trip.
And it didn’t end there. The next morning, we woke up early to the sun illuminating one of the most beautiful beaches we had ever seen. It was in a little bay with rocky outcrops protecting it on both ends. The sand was gorgeous: clean and soft, and inland a beautiful mangrove forest gave wonderful shade for families of monkeys. We had an early morning play in the waves where we were completely delighted to find several sea turtles swimming with us and occasionally peeking their heads out of the water to keep an eye on the beach that is so important to them.
Later, we ate breakfast in the ranger station with the dozens of soldiers whose jobs it is to protect the beach from poachers. And then we took an incredible hike into the mangroves where we got to watch families of howler monkeys playing and taking
What a tough job!
Military protecting the sea turtle nesting beach in Refugio Vida Silvestre La Flor, Nicaragua care of their little babies. The sound of a howler monkey is absolutely spine-tingling. It sounds a bit like a breathy lion’s roar and travels across the tree tops for miles. So very cool. I didn’t want any of it to end.
But around lunch time, we were off for a quick bite to eat in San Juan del Sur, a popular beach and surfing spot several kilometers north. Our hyper guide, Lorenzo, decided that we all should try a special dish, named guardatinaja, a giant-sized rabbit that is common to the area and tasted like spare ribs. Afterward, we had a couple of minutes to grab ice creams at the beach and marvel at the enormous cruise ship that had just pulled in and towered above all of the little fishing dinghies in the harbor, and then it was back to Granada and a very good night’s sleep. We were exhausted from all the turtle action.
The next morning we were off once again, this time to the town of Masaya, just an hour north of Granada. Masaya is famous for their handicrafts, especially for their hammocks, and we had heard that the town was in the
middle of their fiesta. We’re happy to report success on both accounts. We got into town and stumbled upon the Hotel Central, a small place run by a couple and their three teen-age kids. We couldn’t have found a friendlier, more informative place, and at not quite $7 for the night a real steal (we even had our own TV in our room!). We wandered into town and went straight toward where our handy guide book had informed us we’d find hammock makers. As we walked up to the little shop, both Paul and I agreed that we were there just to see how hammocks are made and maybe get a few pictures for the blog. We would buy no hammocks!
We walked out with two. This little family was just so friendly and helpful. When I explained that we weren’t there to buy, but wanted to see how hammocks are made, he immediately pulled out the beginning of a hammock and started showing me the process allowing Paul to snap all the photos he wanted. They never once tried to sell us anything. And they didn’t have to. Their hammocks were gorgeous and at about $8 each how
could we not buy them. Now we just had the problem of sending them home.
We had an hour and a half before the post office closed, so we went for a whirlwind trip through the crafts market where I was both humored and offended by the bullfrogs that had been stuffed and posed to look like they were fornicating and found yet another shirt I simply had to have. I really need to stop going to the markets. Then it was a dash to find a box and some tape and to get to the post office before closing Friday (we didn’t want to be hauling around hammocks all weekend). Phew! We never should have gone to the hammock makers.
That night, on the advice of our friendly hosts, we decided to check out the town’s San Jeronimo festivities in one of the town’s plazas. This festival, the longest in Central America, begins on September 30th and continues for three months. Lucky us, we arrived on one of the very best days, the night before the town’s saint, San Jeronimo, saint’s day. It was mayhem!
I think the party was just getting started when we got
to the plaza as it was mostly teens and young guys mulling around and starting to get drunk, but you could feel this energy or anticipation of what was to come. We were starving so we perused the many stalls set up around the plaza until I found something that I would actually eat. I have to tell you, most of the stalls had this big pot of meat out front that must have been a traditional dish of sorts, but it was the dodgiest pot of meat parts I have seen since my goat head stew experience in Morocco.
We ended up with some delicious grilled chicken and gallo pinto, a fancy name for Nicaragua’s national dish, rice and beans. But before, we could finish off our plates, the festivities began full swing. For the next two hours we stood on the edge of the square watching young men parade out of the church/armory over and over again with armloads of fireworks. It’s a wonder that nobody was killed or lost an arm or something. There were people everywhere and all of a sudden with a couple of shouts everyone would quickly retreat a mere few feet and
then there’d be a blast so thunderous that your insides trembled.
When they weren’t setting off the bombs, they’d shoot fireworks high into the air and when that wasn’t enough into the crowds as well. On several occasions throughout the evening, two young men carrying constructions of bulls above their head would run around the plaza with fireworks shooting from the bull in all directions. On another occasion, a man danced with a huge puppet of a woman above his head while fireworks shot out in all directions from her hands, her dress, her hair. It was wild. But best of all were the huge, hot air balloons they sent off above the city with enormous balls of fire that made the wimpy little hot air balloons that we made in Africa look like a disgrace. How we survived the party with out getting robbed or set on fire, I’ll never know.
The next morning began a 24-hour stint of processions where young boys who were either hung over or still drunk from the night before hauled enormous floats carrying various saints around the town. We were told that the float of San Jeronimo was the heaviest, weighing
in at just over 3000 pounds. And we thought the boys were just dancing with the float as it was swaying and wobbling through the streets just waiting to squash the children dancing to the band. And this goes on for three months . . .
We’d had enough and decided to hit the road to Isla Ometepe, the world’s largest island in a fresh water lake (Lake Nicaragua, which is quite a big thing itself). Getting there was a bit of a challenge that involved a taxi, a two hour bus ride, another taxi ride, a 90 minute ferry, another bus ride, this time three hours, and then a kilometer hike in the dark to get to where we were staying, Finca Magdalena.
We were so happy to arrive that we didn’t notice at first that the place was pretty basic. They had beds and food and guides to lead us on a climb of one of the two volcanoes that make up the island. And that’s all we really cared about. Well, until later that is. Turns out the rooms were tiny and full of some little insect that covered us with itchy bites. The showers
were icy cold and the food left a little something to be desired. But it was tranquil, and absolutely beautiful with big decks looking out over the lake and the other volcano. And besides, we were just happy to be able to make the climb up Volcan Maderas, the smaller of the two volcanoes, about which we had heard such wonderful things from one of the couples that was also on our turtle tour.
The hike was every bit as magical and beautiful as they described. We started out on a trail out of the back of the finca, through their rice fields, and coffee and cacao plantations. And we passed one of the island’s mysterious petroglyphs which are just now being studied to uncover their story. But best of all was the amazing beauty of the mountain. The lower altitudes are full of birds and howler monkeys filling the air with their beautiful songs and invigorating roars. And there are all sorts of gorgeous tropical flowers and bright colored butterflies that dance through the air. Then as you climb higher, the cloud forest begins and everything starts to change. The clouds shroud everything in a mysterious glowing light.
The sounds of insects fill in the gaps of the music from the monkeys and birds. And moss and vines begin to grow everywhere. Breaking through the top of the clouds as we reached the summit and descending into the crater where a peaceful little lake has formed was absolutely breathtaking as well. It was all just incredible.
But it was also positively exhausting. This hike was without a doubt the most difficult adventure we’ve done so far this trip, and our teenaged guide who literally skipped up the mountain telling us to hurry up did absolutely nothing to help the situation. We wanted him dead. It took us five and a half hours to climb the 1400 meter mountain (mind you we started at just about sea level), and another 3 and a half hours to climb down (for a total of 10 kilometers). The trail was brutal with deep mud, stones, and slippery roots all over the place. And it took so much concentration to stay on our feet that we had to remind ourselves to stop and look around and enjoy the magnificent place that we were walking through. All that said, and while neither of
The petroglyph on Volcan Maderas
I'd love to tell you about it, but our guide didn't have a clue. us needs to do it again soon, both of us are thrilled to have done it. Now if our aching muscles would just stop throbbing and the bruises and scratches from the many times we slipped and fell would stop hurting all would be a very fine memory.
All in all the Nicaraguan part of our trip has been absolutely fabulous. In fact, Paul reckons that it’s his favorite country of the trip. And we’d both recommend it to anyone who wants a taste of Central America. The people are friendly. It’s safe. There aren’t too many tourists yet. And there are great beaches, rain forests, and volcanoes. Plus it’s a lot cheaper than most of the other countries. We don’t really want to leave.
But, tomorrow we’re off again on a long journey to Costa Rica where, if our bodies don’t revolt, we’ll be doing some more hiking and nature exploring. Paul says he’s too old to be doing this crap. With any luck, the next time we write will be from Panama just before hopping on our plane to South America (if we ever get around to getting our tickets).
Until then, we can’t wait
to get some comments from you all. I’ve started to get some nasty comments from people who aren’t too fond of my storytelling—that if I don’t know what the heck I’m talking about I should keep my trap shut and such, so I could use some good mojo from the folks I care about.
P.S. We just got our washing back from the laundry service at our hostel. Despite my very careful explanation of why the two separate bags needed to be washed separately (ie. our pants from Chiapas bleed all over everything), we now have tye-dyed clothes. All of them. Look for it in the pictures for the rest of the trip. It will be fun.
P.P.S Happy Birthday Gramma and Susan!!!
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kimary
non-member comment
keep the details coming!!
hey guys, i can't tell you how happy (and jealous) it makes me to read all of your adventures. i can't believe i've been back in the states almost 2 months and you all are just getting through central america...there's still so much more exciting tales to come. i love the way you tell stories - with all the important details to fully take us along for the ride. i can really picture all the places and people you meet. thanks so much for not giving up on the journaling (both in words and pictures) even though i know it must be tough this far along in the journey. stay safe and happy! love, kimary