Friday, January 22, 2010 -- HOSPEDAJE RANCHO ESPERANZA

Up at 7:30 after a great night’s rest. We have all morning for R&R at RBR. Plans have changed again, basically because of me. The original plan was to put in where we took out and paddle the complete distance we’d covered in the last three days back to Jenn’s—about 8+ hours. I told Jenn that I didn’t think I’d have the stamina for such a long day, even with sandbar and island rests. Basically it would require sitting in the kayak on my bad hip too long. So. . . Jenn has arranged for Stacy to pick up the kayaks and to drive us to the mouth of the estuary  in the Range Cruiser. We must go at low tide when we have a solid beach for driving.

Did I mention that the Mechapa villagers drive on the beach as it is much smoother and better than their lumpy dirt track? They also drive their cattle down the beach, bicycle on it (to get from point A to point B; none of the pretentiousness of Hilton Head beach biking for them), motorcycle down it, and ride their horses down it (ditto the pretentiousness comment). The beach at low tide is simply the best road in the area.

Presently Jenn and Jess are “surfing,” or trying to, on small waves that are rolling in. Mike has an assortment of surf boards and wax. I wrote in this journal and then walked down the beach to the spot where the river crosses it and photographed wood storks, egrets, roseate spoonbills, and black vultures hanging out in the shallows in search of small fish. Then I walked the beach looking for olives and cowries and anything interesting. There was no chance of my getting lost again as RBR is the only resort/dwelling on this northern stretch of beach.

Storks, egrets, vultures and spoonbills--note spoonbill landing to right

Stacy, Jess, Jenn, and street dog enjoying last minutes on the beach

When I returned, we had breakfast at 9:30 am—omelet, toast, home fries, good coffee. After breakfast, Jess and I plotted the rest of our vacation. We plan to spend tonight at Jenn’s friend, Nate’s, Hospedaje Rancho Esperanza, described in Lonely Planet as “a quiet collection of simple bamboo huts scattered across a grassy field a bit back from the beach” in Jiquilillo. “The dorm is on stilts above the common area where meals ($1.50 to $3.50) hammocks, and the Internet are available.”  Both of us want to get on the internet to check our mail and bank accounts. Jenn raves about Nate and his Rancho. The composting toilet that she and Peter are having built was inspired by Nate’s. (More about that later.) The morning after our stay at Rancho Esperanza, we will take a series of buses and taxis south to Granada and Lake Nicaragua. To get to the rainforest and Rio San Juan from Granada is either a 13-hour ferry trip, a very lumpy and long drive, or a RT flight in a small plane costing only $120. Guess what we chose.

After breakfast I put in some packing, hammock, and journal time—also sneaked in another hot shower. The girls again went into the ocean for a last fling at surfing before leaving. Then they and Stacy sat on the beach talking until noon. At noon we sat down to Ricardo’s crab soup, the results of our crab chase the night before. It was delicious and just the right parting touch.

Sopa de mora (crab soup)

After lunch, we changed into our bathing suits and paddling clothes. Stacy loaded us, our gear—including our three paddles—and two Nicas into the Land Rover. Off we went back to the place where we had stored the kayaks. Stacy entered a sandy gated lane off the beach that she thought was the place where we had left the kayaks, but it turned out to be a place next door. This vacant property was up for sale—23 acres, coconut grove, swimming pool, 3 bedroom stucco, tile roofed house with shady veranda, inside kitchen, etc. on the ocean for $130,000. Unbelievable. The men and Jenn walked to the next door property and returned with the kayaks, which the Nica men secured to the roof of the Rover. Then we drove 20 kilometers down the deserted beach to the mouth of the estuary where we would put in. (For some reason all my pix of this were deleted from the camera.) This drive would save us hours of paddling. In less than 2 hours we arrived back at Jenn & Peter’s. Peter with Penelope on his shoulders was waiting on the beach—both very eager for Jenn’s return.

Stacey, Ramon, Jess, RBR employee, and that grey-haired old lady again 

Jess and I paid Jenn, quickly changed into dry clothes, said goodbye to Peter & Penelope, and then nearly ran the half mile to the dirt road to catch the bus to Rancho Esperanza—Jess opening gates and carrying my backpack as well as hers. We’d have a hot dusty walk if we missed the bus. Of course in the heat and humidity this about did me in. But, we caught the bus—our old favorite “El Carmen,” with its red paint job.

When we got off the bus at Nates’ compound he greeted us and took us on a tour of his property—explaining his beer, drink, and snack rules (on the honor system, write what you take on a whiteboard nearby), his rules on borrowing books from his several-shelf collection (ask first; he doesn’t want just anything), his rules for using the showers and toilets (place a bowlful of rice hulls in the composting toilet after using it; turn off the shower when soaping up), his rules for walking through his living quarters to the beach (lightly through the floored passageway during the day; go around at night), etc.

Nate took our supper order—Nica chicken meal—and then we had a bit of a wait while he prepared our hut. He then took us to our hut and gave us the key to its padlocked door. It had the one door and a single small window. Inside was the typical matrimonial bed and a set of bunks. Again Jess insisted that I sleep in the double while she chose the bottom bunk. There was a little table with a reading lamp on it, a floor fan, and several convenient hooks. The dirt floor was covered in several grass mats. All was clean and orderly.

Nate was a young, well-built, slight guy with a deep tan and dark hair tied in a pony tail. He was barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only loose-legged pants hung low on his pubis. Both of us got the impression that he was well pleased with himself.

Nate buying fruit on our last day

The hammocks in the common area were all full of silent young people, mostly women, self-consciously engrossed in the  intellectual pursuit of reading. Not a greeting or a word from any of them, unlike our warm welcomes at RBR and Rancho Tranquilo. Jess changed, had a little time on the computer in the corner of the common space, and then checked out a book and went to a shoreside hammock to read. I unpacked in our little thatched-roofed hut—each hut was painted in colorful geometrics or scenes—hung our wet clothing on the line up by the toilets and showers, and then took a shower in a fruitless effort to cool down. I was coolish while under the cold water, but as soon as I had to struggle into my dry clothes, I began to sweat again. Showering during the day was bootless. I sat for awhile in the common area trying, unsuccessfully, to cool down.

Our little hut

We ate dinner that evening (big bowls of rice, chicken and coleslaw) at a long table with Nate’s girlfriend and the other guests, all young Europeans and Americans who didn’t speak until spoken too and then peppered their conversations with “like,” “rad” and “awesome.” I felt HOT and OLD.

After dinner I was still having trouble cooling down, so soaked my bandana, returned to the hut, stripped down, and lay in front of the fan. I finally got cool enough to write in this journal. My summary: Nate rather egotistical and uninterested in his guests; his guests unfriendly. We liked Tina and Dennis’s Rancho Tranquilo much better.

Discovered a little dove nesting in a corner of the hut. Listened to the geckos whistle. Slept well with no mosquito net.