Aside from the garden-variety border scam (from which a group of righteous Nicaraguan women saved us), our time in Nicaragua was pleasant and relatively hassle-free: climbing volcanoes, enjoying colonial cities, visiting revolution and martyrs’ museums, relaxing on a volcanic island, and meeting microfinance clients outside of the capital city. After our visit, we fortunately had little first-hand experience to refute the prevailing guidebook wisdom suggesting that Nicaragua is the safest country to visit in Central America.

Then a few weeks ago we received a message from Nikol and Martin, a Czech couple we became friends with while trekking Nicaragua’s El Hoyo and Cerro Negro volcanoes. The joy of receiving a message from fellow travelers we really connected with (as it happens, we lived just blocks from one another in Prague) was quickly replaced by shock. Their story knocked the wind out of us:

Nikol and Martin are experienced travelers. They speak Spanish and have seen their share of scams and adventure (for example, Nikol traveled around Northern India on a motorbike). Their story hit very close to home. The thought that it could have easily been us haunted us for days.

Sure, you could argue that no one should take shared taxis, or that you should write down the license plate number of every one you take. But the reality is that after spending months in Central America without any problems, it’s easy to become accustomed to doing what the locals do, including taking shared taxis and becoming friendly with people you meet on the street.

You become comfortable, you tire, you trust (and you want to trust); you let your guard down. You find yourself at the intersection of fatigue, trust and vulnerability. As long-term travelers, we have all been there. What separated their fate from ours was fortune and timing.

The reality is that Nikol’s and Martin’s experience could have happened in any number of countries. Nicaragua, like anywhere else, is not beyond crime and violence particularly where poverty, money and tourists intersect.

——–

So what does this story have to do with photos from Nicaragua?

Nikol’s message to us ended with:

So we dedicate these photo sets to Nikol and Martin and the photos they weren’t able to bring home.

Enjoy the natural, architectural and human beauty of Nicaragua in the photos below.

Granada, Esteli, Rivas, and Isla de Ometepe

Climbing Volcanoes in Nicaragua

Microfinance in Masaya

Lazing in Leon

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Even at this hour, it was steamy. Under the weight of my pack, I was glazed in sweat before we reached the crossroads for the chicken bus to the trail head. I looked around at the young, energetic faces – mostly in their early 20s – and wondered, “Am I too old to be doing this?”

A few hours later we were scaling the black ash base of Cerro Negro, an active volcano in northern Nicaragua. As we neared the rim, a crater emitting eggy plumes of sulfur dioxide fumed on my right. The black volcanic gravel of our climb yielded to iridescent mineral deposits, boulders, lava chunks and white ash. On my left, it was a surprisingly long way down to where Mother Nature had drawn a stark line between the slope of black volcanic gravel and the lush, electric green canvas of pastures, rich soil and rolling hills surrounding the cone.

In this moment of relative tranquility, it occurred to me that this volcano had given and — as recently as 1999 — it had also taken away.

How NOT to Run Down a Volcano
At the edge of the volcano, a slope of fine volcanic pebbles descended to a base almost 200-300 meters down.

“You should really run as fast as you can…all the way to the bottom.” John, our ebullient guide, implied anything else would be an epic waste of an opportunity. He even took everyone’s cameras halfway down to capture our folly.

“Is this really a good idea? Will our insurance cover this?” I wondered, my age again revealing itself.

As the first of our group began their run down — arms and legs flailing and voices cracking in terrified delight — my adrenaline kicked in.

Someone in the remaining group suggested Dan and I run down hand-in-hand for the camera.

“OK, c’mon,” I said, grabbing Dan’s hand.

He was too willing. A split second later, we were off to the races, bounding and sliding down the cone. Dan’s strides were a little too much for me though. Our fleeting moments of coupledom were quickly followed by Dan unknowingly dragging me down the volcano.

“This isn’t fun anymore. STOP!!” I yelled.

After I took stock of the raspberry gravel wounds down my left leg, we opted to part ways. As in life, some undertakings are more fun as a couple while others are best pursued alone.

See for yourself in the video:

Volcano Number Two: El Hoyo
Two volcanoes, one day. That’s the trick and the treat of this particular trek.

It was midday and I was drenched only minutes into the steep two-hour climb through the gap at Las Pilas. Fearing heat exhaustion, I slowed and focused on one foot in front of the other. Meanwhile, most of the group bounced Tigger-like up the steep path in the oppressive heat.

One rain storm and a few water breaks later (I was so thankful for each and every one), we arrived at the top of El Hoyo volcano, our campsite for the night. Dazed and exhausted, I barely registered that we and the mountain were enveloped in clouds. Nearly 12 hours of movement had taken their toll.

Early Bird Gets the View
“Guys, you have to come out here and see this rainbow!”

It was 5:20 AM. My first thought: “Ugh.”

My second thought: “This is John’s ploy to draw us out of our tents.” Dan concurred.

I went outside just to be sure.

And there it was: a rainbow (which multiplied to two – Alexander’s Dark Band) and a rapidly clearing sunrise view of Lake Managua, Momotombo Volcano, Lake Asososca (our destination later that day) and the vast, awesome green valley that lay among them.

Those bruises on my hips, the muscle ache in my legs. It was all worth it.

I decided I’m not too old for this after all.

——————-

See below for what I mean about the view. You’ll have to look hard for the rainbow, but it’s there. Click Fullscreen for the best effect. Click inside the image and use the arrow to navigate around.

Panorama: Rainbows at Dawn atop El Hoyo Volcano, Nicaragua

For best panorama viewing results, press fullscreen (four arrows) and navigate around with your mouse.

A Word about Quetzal Trekkers

We did this in 36 hours with Quetzal Trekkers in Leon, Nicaragua. We will write more about them later. For those interested in this hike, it’s referred to as El Hoyo. It’s really three-in-one (Cerro Negro, El Hoyo and Lake Asososca). It’s kicks your ass, but it kicks ass.

For those interested in trekking in Guatemala or Nicaragua, Quetzal Trekkers is a fantastic organization. They not only deliver a unique experience, but 100% of their profits goes towards helping street kids. Their prices are reasonable and they can lend you virtually all the equipment you’ll need. All their guides are volunteers who give a minimum of three months of their time to the organization. Their jobs are not easy, but somehow they make it look so. These guys and gals are some of the most dedicated and passionate we’ve had the pleasure to meet on our travels.

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Not so for me. Every haircut is a new adventure: a different country, a new language and yet another man with scissors (or God forbid, clippers) who has his own ideas about style.

During a recent ear-lowering interlude in Leon, Nicaragua (see our 360-degree panorama photo below), it struck me that barber shops are less about haircuts and more about history and culture.

An Ode
I’m rather drawn to barber shops. Not because of vanity (rarely do my results echo “excessive pride in one’s appearance”), but because of their social relevance.

From Nepal to Nicaragua, barber shops offer a clip and a chat. Fathers take their sons, whose first visits invariably feature the fearful, tearful haze of a universal rite of passage.

Weather, life, family and politics. These topics are barber shop currency, forming a link in the chain of traditional social networks. Barber shops are the modern day remains of the oral tradition; their pace rings of a bygone era.

The barber shop feels like a dying breed. Fifty and sixty year-old men will continue to ply their trade until their hands can no longer clippity-clip with the scissors. But who will replace them when they are gone?

The Barber of Leon
No place better typifies the old-style barber shop than the one I visited in Leon, Nicaragua. It exuded a cluttered, timeless aesthetic that, if not examined closely, could be mistaken for a barber out of any number of old towns, from Havana to Siracusa.

(Use the arrows for the best effect to move around the image, or click fullscreen.)

view this panoramic photo on 360cities.net

Framed original newspaper clippings from a John F. Kennedy visit (Kennedy Ganar Simpatica – “Kennedy Wins Sympathy”), a grade-school drawing of a large knobby-kneed bird downing a frog, prominently placed NO FUME signs, and a string of permanently dust-encrusted plastic tarantulas and angels dangling from the ceiling.

The rule it seems: once something goes up, it never comes down. A living time capsule.

I’m thankful for places like this. Maybe that makes me stuck in the past. Maybe that makes me nostalgic. Maybe that makes me old school.

Or maybe I just like to get my hair cut.

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