A Highlands Misadventure
This week I spent a few days visiting in the Northern Highlands on Nicaragua. Kamilla had to meet some friends in Managua, so I went up there alone. I visited Matagalpa, Jinotega, San Rafael del Norte, and Estelí and some rural areas and nature reserves along the way. This is the story of what happened in between.
After spending the night in Matagalpa, and climbing the next morning to the top of Reserva Natural Cerro Apante for fine views over looking the city and the surrounding mountains, I set out for Jinotega by bus. But along the way I called an audible and hopped off on a desolate stretch of the highway. I had decided I wanted to go to little-visited Reserva Natural Dantalí-El Diablo. All I knew from the guidebook was that I needed to walk down a dirt road at ´Km 146´ to Finca La Esmeralda, where I might be able to find lodging and guides for the park. I was on my own, so I figured it was worth a shot.
I hitched a ride to the turn-off, then began walking down the road with all my things. It was the middle of the day and there was no traffic. There were no towns to speak of, just solitary fincas with coffee plantations and flower gardens dotting the hillsides below. There were fine views across the valley to the green and blue hills that seemed never to end. Occasionally I passed a young campesino carrying a machete on the way to or from a farm. But I did not reach La Esmeralda. I had walked for more than an hour, and was very tired, when I spied a little town in the valley below. Perhaps this was it.
This was not it. I was in the pueblo of La Fundadora. The man sitting next to his horse on the side of the road greeted me, and I asked him about La Esmeralda. He knew it, and said it was at least another 5 km further. ¨Largissimo,¨ he told me. I must have looked strange to him, for cheles carrying all their possessions do not often foolishly decide to wander 7 km down this road to get to this small village. He told me to wait and take the one bus that was coming through in 40 minutes. It was not safe to walk alone on these rural roads, he told me, because there were many ladrones (thieves) about. I sat down on the porch of the pulperia and had a Coke and waited for the bus.
On the bus (C$7) a young campesino named Pedro greeted me, and at La Esmeralda he pulled me off the bus and led me to the Director of the Reserva Natural. I was pleased to learn that there was indeed an albergue to stay in, and that guides could take me to the park the next morning. I sat on another pulperia porch with these men for a while, and they too warned me that there were many robbers around. I began to feel uneasy in my new surroundings. I had walked the greater part of 12.5 km to get to this tiny village. I knew nothing about it. All the information in my Lonely Planet had proven unsatisfactory. And here was everyone warning me about danger lurking around.
After some time, Pedro led me up a deserted path to Finca Elizabeth, where I would be staying. Once we were alone, he stopped and pulled himself nearer to me. He then demanded that I give him as a gift 20 pesos. I felt nervous. I had seen this coming: I didn´t like the look in his eye when he was watching me. And my traveler´s instinct made me suspect the way he had attached himself to me so possessively. And now here he was demanding money. I didn´t like the fierce whisper of his voice, that look in his eyes. I looked around. The path was deserted. I began to feel very scared.
--Arregalame 20 pesos.
--¿Porque?
--Por que lo quiero.
--¿Para que?
(A pause. We stare at each other. I am very scared that he might kill me. I tell him in what must have approached a whimper that I wanted to go to the house.)
So we continued up the path. The nice girl there, Keña, showed me to a bunk in a dark and musty room. This was fine with me. Pedro and his uncomfortable stare left. I was alone there in that farmhouse though and it took me a while to calm down. I really believed that I was going to die. I´ve reflected on that fear for a while now, and it surprises me. In my four years of traveling in this manner, I can´t often recall feeling like that. I think there was a confluence of factors. For one thing, this man who one minute earlier was telling me about the presence of ladrones was then demanding money. Something about his manner (and in his eyes) made me highly uneasy. Furthermore, I have read or heard first-hand many tales recently of travelers who have been robbed or encountered violence in Central America. Writing an article for Harry and Adam´s magazine, the Leóneazy, about how to avoid getting your camera stolen in a robbery probably made me more on edge. I also felt ashamed of my fear since I often scoff at such notions as misplaced stereotypes. Yet here I was succumbing to them. It was a strange and bewildering moment for me.
I sat down to relax in the farmhouse, reading my book. A few hours later the guides came. They were young guys and very much into birds (which I guess is why people come here). Yader told me he´d take me the next morning on his motorcycle to the park. There was fierce rainstorm that night, the type of rain that one must shout over to be heard. I ate a bowl of gallo pinto in a dank hut. I had longed to see rural Nicaragua and here I was, tucked away in a tiny village, deep in the interior of the country.
We woke at six the next morning an I went with the three guides to the reserve. The ride there was on a track made muddy and slippery by the night´s storm. We swerved and skidded along the muddy path. Several times I had to hop off and run to the top of hills as Yader revved the engine to climb the hill. Along the way we passed by tiny huts and little coffee farms clinging to the steep sides of the hills. The epic ride on the motorbike reminded of a similar incident in the desert of Rajasthan, a year and a half before.
We trekked down a path and into a surprisingly dense forest. At the base of the hill we waited for an hour and looked at birds. We saw maybe a dozen species, including some related to the quetzal. You have to be really into birds for this sort of thing, which I am not, but I appreciated how much my guides were. For me, it was just peaceful to smell the morning and watch the stillness of this lush tropical forest. After we finished with the birds we took another sendero down to a raging waterfall, which must have been at least 20 meters high. It was a very worthwhile trip, especially because my guides were so affable.
Having visited to Reserva Natural, I planned to continue on to Jinotega. But I had a problem. Only one bus left for the city in the morning at 6:30 AM; I had already missed it (and only one bus returned in the afternoon.) At 9 AM, I paid for the bed (C$50) and the food (C$20) (the guiding service was free), and walked to the edge of town to try and hitch a ride out. This was possible to do, except that it was such a remote area that saw such little traffic. I sat on the edge of this dirt road on the outskirts of the little village and read. I was glad I had my book because by the time I caught a ride back to La Fundadora, the fifth ride I´ve hitched in Nicaragua, 4 hours and 18 minutes had passed.
4 hours and 18 minutes! That is by far the longest I´ve ever had to wait for a ride in my life.
And I was lucky to get it, since I could have waited 9 hours, or I could have waited for the bus the following morning. It was that remote. My body was jolted as I rode in the back of that pick-up, but I was just happy for the chance. After all, it is a deflating feeling to stand on the side of the road with your thumb out when you´ve been standing there for hours.
From La Fundadora, I still faced a several km walk back to the main Matagalpa-Jinotega highway. The day was still high and so I started off up a hill. This was all uphill. Once again, I was nervous about encountering thieves on these rural roadways. My nervousness increased when another young campesino stopped me, and warned me with that same uneasy glint in his eye about ladrones. I told him he was mistaken, that it was a safe area. No, he told me, you better hurry up. Despite myself, hurry up I did. I walked for another 5 km or so back to the main carretera, and I was exhausted and relieved when I arrived there. Not long after I got there, I hopped on a Jinotega-bound bus, my foray into the interior complete.
I´ve been thinking about what happened for a number of days now. I´ve thought about the friendly and helpful people I´ve met. And I´ve thought about the fear I had then (and still retain) and whether it´s justified. I didn´t set out to have the experience that I did have, I certainly didn´t set out to risk my own life in this way, but that´s sometimes how traveling ends up and it´s really about how you handle situations that are less than ideal. In the course of 24 hours, I was terrified and thrilled. I lost calm within myself and found it again deep in the forest. I lost and restored my faith in people. And I saw a little bit more of this country that fascinates me, and walked away having been in some small way changed by that.
After spending the night in Matagalpa, and climbing the next morning to the top of Reserva Natural Cerro Apante for fine views over looking the city and the surrounding mountains, I set out for Jinotega by bus. But along the way I called an audible and hopped off on a desolate stretch of the highway. I had decided I wanted to go to little-visited Reserva Natural Dantalí-El Diablo. All I knew from the guidebook was that I needed to walk down a dirt road at ´Km 146´ to Finca La Esmeralda, where I might be able to find lodging and guides for the park. I was on my own, so I figured it was worth a shot.
I hitched a ride to the turn-off, then began walking down the road with all my things. It was the middle of the day and there was no traffic. There were no towns to speak of, just solitary fincas with coffee plantations and flower gardens dotting the hillsides below. There were fine views across the valley to the green and blue hills that seemed never to end. Occasionally I passed a young campesino carrying a machete on the way to or from a farm. But I did not reach La Esmeralda. I had walked for more than an hour, and was very tired, when I spied a little town in the valley below. Perhaps this was it.
This was not it. I was in the pueblo of La Fundadora. The man sitting next to his horse on the side of the road greeted me, and I asked him about La Esmeralda. He knew it, and said it was at least another 5 km further. ¨Largissimo,¨ he told me. I must have looked strange to him, for cheles carrying all their possessions do not often foolishly decide to wander 7 km down this road to get to this small village. He told me to wait and take the one bus that was coming through in 40 minutes. It was not safe to walk alone on these rural roads, he told me, because there were many ladrones (thieves) about. I sat down on the porch of the pulperia and had a Coke and waited for the bus.
On the bus (C$7) a young campesino named Pedro greeted me, and at La Esmeralda he pulled me off the bus and led me to the Director of the Reserva Natural. I was pleased to learn that there was indeed an albergue to stay in, and that guides could take me to the park the next morning. I sat on another pulperia porch with these men for a while, and they too warned me that there were many robbers around. I began to feel uneasy in my new surroundings. I had walked the greater part of 12.5 km to get to this tiny village. I knew nothing about it. All the information in my Lonely Planet had proven unsatisfactory. And here was everyone warning me about danger lurking around.
After some time, Pedro led me up a deserted path to Finca Elizabeth, where I would be staying. Once we were alone, he stopped and pulled himself nearer to me. He then demanded that I give him as a gift 20 pesos. I felt nervous. I had seen this coming: I didn´t like the look in his eye when he was watching me. And my traveler´s instinct made me suspect the way he had attached himself to me so possessively. And now here he was demanding money. I didn´t like the fierce whisper of his voice, that look in his eyes. I looked around. The path was deserted. I began to feel very scared.
--Arregalame 20 pesos.
--¿Porque?
--Por que lo quiero.
--¿Para que?
(A pause. We stare at each other. I am very scared that he might kill me. I tell him in what must have approached a whimper that I wanted to go to the house.)
So we continued up the path. The nice girl there, Keña, showed me to a bunk in a dark and musty room. This was fine with me. Pedro and his uncomfortable stare left. I was alone there in that farmhouse though and it took me a while to calm down. I really believed that I was going to die. I´ve reflected on that fear for a while now, and it surprises me. In my four years of traveling in this manner, I can´t often recall feeling like that. I think there was a confluence of factors. For one thing, this man who one minute earlier was telling me about the presence of ladrones was then demanding money. Something about his manner (and in his eyes) made me highly uneasy. Furthermore, I have read or heard first-hand many tales recently of travelers who have been robbed or encountered violence in Central America. Writing an article for Harry and Adam´s magazine, the Leóneazy, about how to avoid getting your camera stolen in a robbery probably made me more on edge. I also felt ashamed of my fear since I often scoff at such notions as misplaced stereotypes. Yet here I was succumbing to them. It was a strange and bewildering moment for me.
I sat down to relax in the farmhouse, reading my book. A few hours later the guides came. They were young guys and very much into birds (which I guess is why people come here). Yader told me he´d take me the next morning on his motorcycle to the park. There was fierce rainstorm that night, the type of rain that one must shout over to be heard. I ate a bowl of gallo pinto in a dank hut. I had longed to see rural Nicaragua and here I was, tucked away in a tiny village, deep in the interior of the country.
We woke at six the next morning an I went with the three guides to the reserve. The ride there was on a track made muddy and slippery by the night´s storm. We swerved and skidded along the muddy path. Several times I had to hop off and run to the top of hills as Yader revved the engine to climb the hill. Along the way we passed by tiny huts and little coffee farms clinging to the steep sides of the hills. The epic ride on the motorbike reminded of a similar incident in the desert of Rajasthan, a year and a half before.
We trekked down a path and into a surprisingly dense forest. At the base of the hill we waited for an hour and looked at birds. We saw maybe a dozen species, including some related to the quetzal. You have to be really into birds for this sort of thing, which I am not, but I appreciated how much my guides were. For me, it was just peaceful to smell the morning and watch the stillness of this lush tropical forest. After we finished with the birds we took another sendero down to a raging waterfall, which must have been at least 20 meters high. It was a very worthwhile trip, especially because my guides were so affable.
Having visited to Reserva Natural, I planned to continue on to Jinotega. But I had a problem. Only one bus left for the city in the morning at 6:30 AM; I had already missed it (and only one bus returned in the afternoon.) At 9 AM, I paid for the bed (C$50) and the food (C$20) (the guiding service was free), and walked to the edge of town to try and hitch a ride out. This was possible to do, except that it was such a remote area that saw such little traffic. I sat on the edge of this dirt road on the outskirts of the little village and read. I was glad I had my book because by the time I caught a ride back to La Fundadora, the fifth ride I´ve hitched in Nicaragua, 4 hours and 18 minutes had passed.
4 hours and 18 minutes! That is by far the longest I´ve ever had to wait for a ride in my life.
And I was lucky to get it, since I could have waited 9 hours, or I could have waited for the bus the following morning. It was that remote. My body was jolted as I rode in the back of that pick-up, but I was just happy for the chance. After all, it is a deflating feeling to stand on the side of the road with your thumb out when you´ve been standing there for hours.
From La Fundadora, I still faced a several km walk back to the main Matagalpa-Jinotega highway. The day was still high and so I started off up a hill. This was all uphill. Once again, I was nervous about encountering thieves on these rural roadways. My nervousness increased when another young campesino stopped me, and warned me with that same uneasy glint in his eye about ladrones. I told him he was mistaken, that it was a safe area. No, he told me, you better hurry up. Despite myself, hurry up I did. I walked for another 5 km or so back to the main carretera, and I was exhausted and relieved when I arrived there. Not long after I got there, I hopped on a Jinotega-bound bus, my foray into the interior complete.
I´ve been thinking about what happened for a number of days now. I´ve thought about the friendly and helpful people I´ve met. And I´ve thought about the fear I had then (and still retain) and whether it´s justified. I didn´t set out to have the experience that I did have, I certainly didn´t set out to risk my own life in this way, but that´s sometimes how traveling ends up and it´s really about how you handle situations that are less than ideal. In the course of 24 hours, I was terrified and thrilled. I lost calm within myself and found it again deep in the forest. I lost and restored my faith in people. And I saw a little bit more of this country that fascinates me, and walked away having been in some small way changed by that.
posted by Hayden @ 1:00 PM
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