Saturday, January 16, 2010 -- ON THE ROAD TO JIQUILILLO

Last evening we decided not to move to the beach down here, but to travel north up to Jiquilillo (Hick·E ·lee·O) and stay on one of the beaches up there while waiting for the beginning of our kayak paddle. Thus I was up at 6:30. I repacked my backpack, made coffee for the two of us, took the granola and yogurt that was left to the kitchen and left it for the other backpackers, and we walked half way around the block and caught a cab to the mini-bus station in Leon. At the big bus station, which was at a market in Leon, several ox carts were waiting to transport goods, their solid wooden wheels looking for all the life like the medieval ages. I could not get a photo of them from the taxi.

Notice the small skinny horse and cart in this photo; the cart has rubber wheels but several had round cut-out wooden wheels; also notice the vendors each in his or her frilly ruffly apron

Note the woman with the tray of food on her head; this was a common way vendors carried their goods

This mini-bus was not overly crowded and the ride to Chinandega was fine. Out in the countryside were large industrial-sized farms and, again, many horse-drawn carts and bicyclists along the road.

We liked Chinandega. It was madly bustling with horse carts, tricycles (pronounced tree·sick·las) which were bicycle-powered rickshaws; buses, taxis, cars, pickups, scooters, etc.

A truck blaring out political propaganda

Active nearby volcano

We were let off at a big market. I’m now beginning to get the hang of things. Markets and central bus stops go hand in hand. It was very hot and humid. Yikes, I had lost  the bandanna which I was mopping with. As soon as I realized this, I walked across the street and bought another—a bright green one for 10 cordoba—about .50. Just after I paid for it, Jess pulled mine out of my left pocket. Oh well, one cannot have enough bandannas.

When we got off the bus, kids and adults immediately swarmed the gringos, selling gum, sesame squares, pastries, fruits, and water in small plastic bags. One little boy selling Chiclets was very persistent to the point of rudeness. Finally he got through to us that our bus to Jiquilillo did not arrive for an hour. The Lonely Planet had it wrong, but we were told that things change so rapidly in Nicaragua that they may have had it right when they published the guide.

While waiting, we decided to have breakfast and wound up at a plastic table at one of the many food kiosks beside Chinandega’s Parque Central. We ordered breakfast not knowing exactly what we had ordered, but got a nice Nica breakfast of rice and beans, eggs, and fried plantains.

Our server in her traditional ruffled apron

Nicaraguan enjoying an ear of corn for breakfast

Back at the bus station an hour later, we were informed that the bus did not leave for another half hour. We walked around a couple of blocks looking for shade and an outdoor café, but not finding same returned to Parque Central where we had cold apple juice from a tiny box. Finally, when we returned to the bus station, the bus from Jiquilillo was just arriving! Yahoo.

We met Daniel Ceppos from D.C. who was also going to Jiquilillo. He had been traveling in Nicaragua for a couple of weeks and was going to spend his last week at Rancho Tranquilo on the Pacific Ocean. Rancho Tranquilo is where we were headed also, or it became our destination. Actually Jennifer Shulzitski, Jessica’s friend with the Ibis Exchange kayak business on the Padre Ramos Estuary, had reserved us a hut at her friend Nate’s place, Rancho Esperanza, nearby, but Rancho Tranquilo was the Lonely Planet “pick” and sounded much more interesting, particularly as it had a bar and was right on the ocean.

The three of us got on the bus as soon as we could to get seats. Lo, the bus was not crowded, but it was one of the grade school buses and there was no place for our legs and feet. Two hours later, the bus was at the end of the line—the last 8 kilometers on a dusty, rocky, dirt road—and we got off . . . only to be told that we’d overshot our destination by a couple of kilometers. Jess and Dan were so busy talking and I so busy gawking that we’d never seen the sign for Rancho Tranquilo.

Jess and Daniel on the bus to Rancho Tranquilo

It was hot and we each had heavy packs, mine being the largest and heaviest, but we started walking back—first stopping at a pulperia (convenience store of sorts) to split a quart of beer under their shady thatched roof. Here we photographed a beautiful but one-legged rooster and a woman who was doing the village mending in one end of the veranda (see below).

The one-legged rooster, beautiful nonetheless

When we started out again, Daniel carried Jess’s pack and his, Jess carried mine, and I carried our day packs. Quite a way down the road, I realized that I’d lost my new green bandana and the soft chili-pepper sack I carried my camera in. They must have fallen from the table because none of us remembered seeing them when we left.

We trudged along, stopping frequently in the shade until Daniel stopped a pickup coming toward us to ask the way to Rancho Tranquilo. The pickup was carrying 15-foot 5-inch diameter plastic pipes. The two men in it were very friendly and told us (we thought) that they’d be glad to take us to RT. We climbed into the bed of the truck under the overhanging pipes, and the men continued in the direction they were going. “Oh,” we all three said at once, “we were walking in the wrong direction!”

Before long, the truck turned into a narrow grassy track and we were a bit apprehensive. We want to go to Rancho Tranquilo. Was this the way? The men chattered reassuringly at us in rapid Spanish and we continued on, coming out into a clearing with a tin roofed pavilion in it. Soon the driver’s daughter, Carla, was there explaining to us in very good English that this was her parent’s coconut plantation and that after the men offloaded the pipe and she conducted a little business, she would drive us to Rancho Tranquilo. She wanted to speak to the owners of RT as well.

“How long will your business be?” we asked.

“Thirty minutes.”

“Okay. We’ll relax in the shade and wait for you.”

Cattle seeking the shade of our shelter

A tree near the shelter

A jicarao tree on which the fruit grows directly from the trunk and main branches. It is used for fodder and also—like our gourds—to make cups and bowls.

One of the workers brought us each a coconut with a hole in it, and we relaxed in the hammocks in the shade under the Pavilion and drank our cool coconut water. Half an hour came and went. Forty-five minutes came. Jess and Daniel walked back to where business was being conducted, and soon we were in the back seat of Carla’s white 4WD Toyota, she and her mother in the front, and the bed loaded with workers and their bikes—so loaded in fact that we had to remove our packs from the bed and hold them in our laps. Finally though, we were on our way to RT. Hallelujah!

"Can you chop the coconut so that we can eat the meat?"

At RT (which would have been a long walk), we passed through a gate and drove back through an avenue of coconut palms, to be greeted by owners Tina & Dennis and their gang of rescued street dogs. Tina showed us the dormitory and the huts and we each selected a hut. No one else was staying there at the moment, so we had our pick. Jess and I chose one close to the bathroom, this for my frequent forays to said room in the night. Our one-room hut had a “matrimonial” bed and a set of bunk beds in it. I got the double bed and Jess slept on the bottom bunk. The thatch-roofed, wood floored hut also had two small front windows, two dim electric lights, front and rear, and a fan on the back wall. Daniel chose a similar hut next to ours.

Within minutes we were out of our sweaty clothes, showered, into our suits, and down at the beach cooling in the incoming waves. Then we retreated to the hammocks in the bar area and had drinks. Tina explained to us that visitors voted on the evening meal, but since we had not reserved and were unexpected, it would be spaghetti. We could vote on tomorrow night’s meal. She called her little Nicaraguan “chambermaid,” Katy, who came and made up our beds and arranged our mosquito nets—though the mosquitoes were few and far between in this dry season. Tina also called her cook, “Mommie,” and told her that she had three guests. Come to find out, Tina knew Jenn and told us that Jenn & Peter, and their 17-month old daughter, Penelope, lived about half a mile down the track just across from them. Jenn had moved her kayak business (Ibis Exchange) and could now launch her clients onto the Padre Ramos Estero right out of her back door. This was good to hear as we had planned on a 20-minute hike to get to Jenn’s place.

Dennis, Tina, and "Mommie," our cook

That night Jenn appeared and she and Jess talked about their time together working for Blue Waters Kayak Company in Point Reyes Station, CA. Jenn told us the details of her move to Nicaragua and the difficulties she had in finding a place and setting up her company. She was in Nicaragua for 2 years before getting completely set up with all of her kayaks and united with Peter. Surprisingly, Tina had done much the same thing. Scouted the world by herself until she found a place to buy and set up her hostel. These are two very strong and independent women!

We had one full day (the next) to rest and relax before our kayak paddle. Jenn told us that the 18th was Peter’s 40th birthday, and she had planned a big celebration. So, instead of striking off into the estero on the 18th, we would spend the day paddling and exploring it but return to Jenn & Peter’s by 4 pm for the celebration. This was very fine with us, as Jess was still coughing and tired. Also great was the fact that Daniel could spend the day paddling with us. We wanted him to go the whole tour, but he had to return to D.C. that Friday.

After spaghetti dinner that night, we returned to our hammocks to watch the sun set and to drink icy beers and rum—Jess even bought a bottle of Nicaraguan rum. Dennis’s cat “Cat” lounged on the bar away from the street dogs who still viewed it as food. The gekoes chirped. The waves crashed. The bar’s twinkle lights twinkled. It got cool and breezy. Yep. We had landed in paradise. As the evening wore down, Tina brought out glitter, and Daniel and Jess and Tina “glittered up” sprinkling their hair and faces and arms. Staid old mama here refrained. My sweat was sparkle enough. Bed for me came at 10 pm. Bed for Jess and Daniel and Tina much later.