Volcanic Eruptions, Lightning Storms and Gravel Rash - El Salvador and Nicaragua

Ok so it’s been a while, the last two months have been pretty crazy. We will endeavour to be more proactive with this blog and keep it up to date, but sometimes there is so much going on it’s a battle just to keep everything together without a demanding blog to write.

We were in El Salvador on a black sand beach surfing, which apparently we are pretty good at for beginners and life was good. Beer was cheap, you could eat for under 5 dollars a day and the surfing was amazing. We had just got out of the water and decided to get on Facebook and found out there was a Tsunami heading for El Salvador. Gees, what a way to wake up in the morning.  A 7.2 Richter earthquake hit Costa Rica destroying a number of homes and setting the whole region on a Tsunami alert. Apparently, unbeknownst to us, it was supposed to hit while we were in the water, but it turned out it was only a few centimetres high and so we are still alive writing this.

The earthquake hit in central Costa Rica and everybody south of us had stories of where they were when they felt it. We escaped unscathed but the repercussions of the quake set off a number of volcanoes in the region, erupting from the new magma pressure underground and which we were to get a very unnerving first hand account of in the following days.

El Salvador is renowned for its surfing and beaches and we were honestly sad to leave. We found this tiny town called El Zonte right off the tourist route with awesome surf and great locals. The guys running the hostel were all pro surfer level and just ran the hostel to keep an income while they surfed all day. There were washed up Westerners from all over the globe living for 100 dollars a month and surfing their life away on the perfect right hand break. The owner of the hostel is only one of a handful of guys in the world who can stand up on a body board and surf waves. Apparently Kelly Slater came through the town and was incredibly impressed saying that not even he could do what some of the guys there were doing. But alas, there are people to see and places to go and the world, although small in many ways, is still a very big place.

We got on the road for our four hour ride into the west of El Salvador to a small town called Alegria, perched precariously on the summit of an active volcano. The town was beautiful and we walked the narrow streets with amazing views of the valley and forest and lowlands far below us. We hiked up to the crater which, legend has it, has a mermaid living in there which will abduct attractive males and drag them into the depths for three days before letting their lifeless bodies float to the surface. We were game and went for a swim with locals looking on in concern, but for whatever reason she didn’t strike.  Probably because Annette was there. On the walk back down we found the entire town (and much for the surrounding region) in the grips of some manic party. It was the Miss El Salvador beauty pageant final being held that night.  It was so surreal that such an American influence could reach such an unlikely and remote place. The girls were pretty impressive and the party went on well into the night.

We left Alegria the next day for Nicaragua, a ridiculously long way away, over 9 hours ride with two international boarder crossings in it. Maybe we were naïve, maybe we were optimistic, but we should have known we were never going to make it. Fellow motorbike traveller, Michael (mentioned in another blog) said those same two borders were some of the worst he crossed in Central America and labelled us masochists for even attempting it. But attempt it we did. We left early, and after two hours hit the border of Honduras, we were met by a massive line of people trying to cross and moving nowhere. We settled in and after an hour and a half, and being sent back once by an official for a police check on the motorbike, eventually crossed into Honduras. We set about riding the 5 hours to Nicaragua but the road was utterly atrocious. Not in a dirt road kind of way, but a bitumen road with potholes so deep you couldn’t see the bottom, and so regular they took up most of the road. The result was one mistake would swallow the front of the bike, snap it in half, and send us over the handle bars. Everybody forgot road rules and just tried to avoid these things, and in some bizarre ritual ensued where everybody forgot everything they had ever learnt about driving and just tried to keep alive. They were so bad that cars and trucks would get instant flat tires if they hit one and have to pull over. If it was bad for them it was Russian roulette for us.

We finally hit the Nicaraguan boarder that afternoon but despite having a Guatemalan bike and still being inside the C4 border where we shouldn’t have had a problem crossing, Nicaragua was having non of that. The border was a joke, spread out and utterly confusing, you could just as easily accidentally cross and then get sent back by angry officials as you could do the right thing. When we finally photocopied and stamped everything in the correct order it was getting late. We crossed at about 4pm and rode into what looked like the apocalypse.

That earthquake in Costa Rica had just sent the biggest volcano in Nicaragua into a violent eruption and we were riding straight into the ash cloud. The storm looked massive from over 50km away and just got bigger and more menacing as we got closer. Just before we hit the sheer vertical face of it we decided to pull over and get our rain jackets on before we inevitably got slammed by what looked like the end of the world. Rain jackets help in apocalyptic scenarios just so you know. As we put them on the wind howled and sent everything that wasn’t tied down flying, then the rain came down in massive torrents. We found ourselves pretty much alone as we rode down the road through this thing, and with great difficultly staying on the road. Then as abruptly as it started it stopped. Then it got weird. We still hadn’t realised this was no ordinary storm, but we did now. There was no rain in the air, and for at least 50km in all directions it was clearish down to about 300m above the ground. But it was replaced by a weird greasy brownish haze smeared across the sky and bolts of truly terrifying lightning coming out of it.

We rode with multiple bolts coming down every second everywhere. You might think it was a good time to pull over, but the road was built for wet seasons so was elevated about 10m above the surrounding country side. There was literally nowhere to pull over that would offer any protection, and there were almost no trees due to the farming land around. This word is bantered around a lot, but this was Epic and truly awesome. Sheets of lightning would smash into everything and everywhere. The dark sky would turn into blinding light like a strobe at a nightclub. Then the most terrifying thing I think we have ever seen from Mother Nature happened.  It was like God (or your chosen deity) had thrown an electric net over the world. The lighting wasn’t coming down anymore, it was everywhere at once in the sky. It was so alarming we slammed on the brakes and got off and crouched on the ground as this electric Frankenstein lit up the world.  Worse, you could see the lightning net tracking through the sky above your head, tearing through the atmosphere with sonic booms and shocking compression waves. We’ve never seen anything like it. Then a massive bolt came down and the world turned into blinding light and sound. It was so close to the bike I thought we had actually been struck by lightening. It was so close and there was so much static electricity in the air that there were static shocks coming off the handle bars of the bike into the metal on the bark busters.

For obvious reasons we didn't want to wave our camera around in the air but it looked a little bit like this, but even more spectacular and terrifying

The time for standing still was well and truly over, and we got back on the bike and rode as fast as we could through the mayhem hoping to just get out of its path. It was adrenaline fueled riding, with continuous bolts and shock waves, at one point we found a truck and pretty much drove under it trying become a lower target and glad for something else to be higher. After about an hour and a half it was still going crazy as we approached the edge of the storm but it was getting dark and we had gone as far as we could feasibly make it that day. We settled for the first hotel we came across, keen to get dry and decompress from what was probably the most awe inspiring natural phenomenon we have ever witnessed.

The hotel was four star and we were very unprepared for the change of pace; from drenched, smelly and almost killed backpacker to lap of luxury table service accompanied by a large pool. Apparently, neither were the staff, who gave us truly wiltering looks at the shabby state of us. It was the most unwelcoming stay we have had anywhere in Central America…

We left the stares and uncomfortable comments about our smell and set out for Leon and the nearest laundry. We rocked up an hour later to our hostel and  walked through the bar past backpackers drinking stupid amounts at 10am and past the tiny bath sized pool with turtles swimming in it and were at peace. We were back with people we could understand.

In that vein, the Big Foot hostel ran probably the most outrageous sport known to mankind; Volcano boarding. Picture a plank of ply wood, poorly nailed together, a very large and active volcano, and a bunch of drunk people attempting to slide 700m vertical meters down said volcano. Sounded good to us, so we signed up for the next day and joined the general debauchery at the bar.

We woke up early and climbed into the back of a modified ex army truck and headed towards the volcano. The track there was terrible and it was nice for once not to have to ride through the sand and rubble and let someone else worry about the road conditions. We ducked and dived as the truck smashed through low hanging trees and slid in the deep sand and got our first look and Cerro Negro; a 700m high mountain of volcanic rock that through some quirk of geology and wind throws most of the bigger rocks and lava into a valley while the wind blows the lighter stuff to the other side. The result is a massive mountain of volcanic sand and ash that we were about board down.

The guide handed around beers from a cooler as we all contemplated our life choices while looking up at the summit. Resolutely we necked the last of our beer and started the hour climb to the top. A bit after half way we got a look into the still smoking crater while our guide chatted offhandedly about how it is overdue for an eruption. We have done a lot of ‘extreme sports’, bungy jumping, sky diving etc, but this was something else. The record in 90km and if you come off you get hurdled down the coarse ash at frightening speed for a frighteningly long way. To make matters worse our guide wasn’t boarding down today because he had come off at speed a few days before and showed us some very bad scrapes and gravel rash all over his body. You could cut the tension with a knife as we all looked down the incredibly steep slope and the tiny truck far below us.

A few guys volunteered to go first and took off in a cloud of ash as they flew down the mountain side, there were some sickening accidents and a lot of limping to the bottom. By the time we were up it was hard to hold on through the sweat pouring out of our palms. Then it was time. We slid off and picked up an alarming amount of speed, the trick is to steer with you feet by tapping your heels in to turn, easier said than done. About a third of the way down Jack picked up a lot of speed and started turning; I dug my heels in but the finesse needed was way beyond the amount of adrenaline pumping through my system and I went into a full stack. I tumbled for about 30m, spat out the mouthful of rock, regained my composure and started again. This time I was more successful and held it straight and fast all the way down. Annette’s speed was 37kmh and Jack got a very respectable 56kmh. We were greeted by more cold beers at the bottom and there was a very Victoria Bitter advertisement scene with a bunch of filthy looking people smashing a cold beer after doing something tough. We got back to the hostel and the drinking and tall tales went well into the night.

We picked ourselves up the next day and headed to the capital of Nicaragua, Managua for some much needed repairs on the bike and some electronics that couldn’t fair the dust and humidity. Big cities, especially capital cities have a bad reputation over here and for good reason. The societal cohesion and family ties break down in the cities and they have some of the highest murder and robbery rates in the region. We rode to our hostel through a decidedly dodgy area where kids were burning tires and throwing bottles at the flames. We arrived and managed to find an opulent shopping mall within the city with all the traps and wares from home, including the replacement electronics and hard to find batteries.

The next day we set about putting the bike into a mechanic for a new rear tire and a remedy to the ominous sound coming from the engine. It turned out that it was a national holiday and every single shop was closed. We ended up talking to a guy out the front of the hostel (later found out to be a taxi driver) who assured us that he knew a spot. Jack ended up taking him on the back of the bike through the back streets of Managua to his cries to ‘VAMOS VAMOS! (GO FASTER!)’ (later found out he and everyone else was drunk). Three hours later and a lot of extra fees for people opening up their shops we had resolved most of the problems except for that engine rattle. We found out that the carburettor had come loose from the air intake and that from Honduras to Nicaragua the engine had been sucking in unfiltered air. We must have ridden over 2000km since then including through that volcanic ash storm… But we had a desperately needed new rear tire and for the place we were about to go we were going to need it.

Lonely planet describes it as a ‘fairy tail place’, where two active volcanos have erupted in the middle of a giant freshwater lake and created an island. The two volcanos rise out of the lakes surface to 1300m and 1600m respectively and are covered in jungle and wildlife. Cloud shrouds the peaks of both volcanos giving it a mystical feel and the two islands have been joined by a massive eruption which has left a piece of land between them. The island is called Ometepe in southern Nicaragua, and we had heard so much about the place as we travelled south we had decided to look for work or volunteering there.

We left Managua, stayed a night in Granada and then headed two hours south to Rivas, where you can catch a ferry out to Ometepe.  Once on the island we headed straight for Little Morgan’s hostel, where our friend Ruth was living and of which we had heard fantastic reviews from other travellers.  The hostel is a beautiful lake-front property with uniquely designed wooden buildings and a communal bar area.  The owner, Morgan, is a friendly Irishman and the hostel is named after his 5 year old son, Little Morgan. 

Ruth had mentioned to Morgan that we were interested in working at the hostel, so we were keen to make a good impression.  As it turned out, the interview process consisted of Morgan sitting down next to us and asking ‘are you the Australians?’ followed by a hearty welcome and him listing off all the free things we would get whilst working for him.  Our job consists of checking in guests, serving food and drinks and just generally socialising.  We work 3 days on, 3 days off in return for free accommodation, food, alcohol and a profit share arrangement after the first month. 

Whilst long term travelling is full of excitement, fun and new experiences, after a while you begin to miss some of the comforts of home; a place to unpack your belongings, a steady group of friends surrounding you and the same bed every night.  After only 5 weeks of working there, Little Morgan’s has become that home away from home for us, a place where we feel settled and welcome.  Of course, it certainly hasn’t lacked in fun and excitement, but we’ll leave those stories for next time.  

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