Discovering Nicaragua
Nicaragua was an incredibly beautiful place. I had no idea what to expect before I arrived, but I had met quite a few people who had traveled there, and I had heard nothing but good things. So I decided to give it a shot, and I am glad I did.
One of the places that impressed me most was San Juan del Sur, which at the time was still a small fishing village. It was incredibly picturesque, and I ended up staying there for a couple of days. Every morning, all of the fishing boats would be lined up on the beach. The entire community seemed to work together, with groups of locals pushing one boat at a time down the sand and into the water before the fishermen headed out for the day.
In the afternoons, the whole process reversed itself. The boats returned one by one, and everyone helped drag them back up onto the beach. Once all of the boats were ashore, the fishermen unloaded their catch. Dozens of local residents would gather around, examining the fish and heading home with one or two fish, baskets of fish, or sometimes much larger quantities. It seemed like such a simple and efficient system, and it gave me a glimpse into a way of life very different from what I was used to.
I also traveled north by bus to Granada, one of the oldest colonial cities in Central America. Granada was a fascinating place, filled with clean white buildings, colorful architecture, and a distinctly European feel. Walking through the city felt a little like stepping back in time.
But my favorite destination in Nicaragua turned out to be the volcanic islands in Lago de Nicaragua. The twin volcanoes rising from Ometepe Island create one of the most beautiful landscapes I saw anywhere in Central America. I traveled there with the goal of climbing the volcanoes, and what followed became one of the most memorable adventures of my entire trip.
Reunion on Ometepe
I arrived by ferry on Ometepe and made my way to whatever small, friendly budget hotel was recommended in the Lonely Planet guide. Back then, that was how I always found the coolest places and met the most interesting people. The guidebooks were not perfect, but they were usually a reliable way to connect with other independent travelers.
After checking in, I asked around about climbing the volcano the next day and got some good information. With my plans made, I headed off to a local fish shack for dinner. Before eating, I sat watching the sunset over Lago de Nicaragua with a couple of beers. By the time dinner arrived, I was feeling pretty relaxed and ordered another beer with my fish. In much of Central America at the time, bottled beer cost about the same as bottled water, nobody drank the tap water, and beer often seemed like the easiest choice.
The pension where I was staying was more like a hostel. The rooms were tiny little wooden boxes, barely larger than closets, but it had a beautiful open courtyard where everyone gathered in the evenings to swap stories and compare travel plans.
Later that night, while I was organizing gear in my room, I heard laughter outside and immediately recognized one of the voices. I stuck my head out the door and could not believe what I saw.
A few weeks earlier, we had spent two or three incredible weeks together hiking through Costa Rica’s Corcovado National Park. We had become great friends but eventually gone our separate ways, assuming we would probably never see each other again.
Yet somehow, there she was on the island of Ometepe.
It was one of those moments that reminds you how small the world can feel when you are traveling. Birds of a feather really do flock together. We gave each other a huge hug, caught up on our adventures, and quickly agreed that we should climb the volcano together the next day.
Climbing the Volcano
We were up long before dawn. Around 4:00 a.m., we boarded a local bus that rattled across the island toward the village of San Pedro. Everyone we had spoken with told us to get off near a particular sign, walk into the coffee plantations, and ask around for a local guide named Valdez. Apparently everybody knew him.
After wandering through the plantations for a while and asking a number of workers for directions, we finally found him. He turned out to be exactly the guide we were looking for. Even better, he spoke a little English.
Valdez invited us to his simple adobe home while he gathered his gear. A few minutes later, with boots on and equipment packed, we started up the mountain.
The climb was fascinating. As we gained elevation, we passed through different agricultural zones. There were bananas, plantains, cacao, and coffee growing at different elevations on the volcano’s slopes. Higher up, near the coffee plantations, we stopped at a small operation where coffee beans were being dried and prepared for export.
One of the funny twists to that story came many years later. Long after returning home, I met someone who turned out to be one of the investors connected with that very coffee operation. His group, somewhere on the West Coast, sourced beans from the plantation and visited annually. It was one of those small-world moments that seem to happen surprisingly often when you travel.
The climb itself became increasingly difficult as we approached the summit. The trail turned muddy and incredibly slippery. In places, we had to grab vines and roots just to keep from sliding backward down the mountainside.
Eventually we reached the top. There were no other hikers anywhere around. The summit was covered in dense jungle, and through breaks in the vegetation we could look down into the enormous caldera below us.
At that point, Heika and Valdez decided it was time for lunch. They unpacked their sandwiches and settled in to enjoy the view. Curious to see more, I headed off alone toward the caldera. I made it partway down before deciding to turn around. The terrain was simply too rough and overgrown. Even after spending countless hours hiking through tropical forests in Central America, this was pushing my comfort level. Reluctantly, I gave up on reaching the bottom and climbed back up to join Heika and Valdez for lunch on the summit.
The Ferry Ride Back
After climbing the volcano, we returned to the hotel that night completely covered in mud. There was an area outside with a hose, so we basically took outdoor showers, trying to rinse mud off our boots, clothing, hair, and places you would not even imagine. Eventually, we got ourselves cleaned up and planned to leave the island the next morning.
When we got to the ferry, it was less of a ferry and more like a banana boat, loaded to the max with crops grown on the island, including piles of tropical fruit. But the winds were too strong for the boat to leave. So everyone waited. And waited. And waited.
By nightfall, the winds were still too strong, so we had to spend another night on Ometepe. Many of the island residents simply stayed near the boat, ready to board at a moment’s notice in case the captain decided to go.
The next morning, the boat was still there, still waiting on the wind. Then, around 10:00 a.m., the captain suddenly blew a whistle and announced that they were tired of waiting and were going to give it a shot.
Everyone piled aboard. By then, the boat was badly overloaded with far too many people and way too much freight, including Heika, me, and her expensive bicycle, which was tied down to the roof. She had been biking around South and Central America for nine months, so that bike was her lifeline.
For a few minutes, I rode up top with her. But the lake was rough, and I started feeling sick almost immediately. I also began seriously wondering whether the boat was actually going to make it across. So I moved toward the back, where I could stay closer to the life preservers.
Adding to the drama, Lago de Nicaragua was known for its freshwater sharks, which are extremely unusual. Whether or not we were in any real danger from them, the local stories certainly made the crossing feel even more exciting.
When we finally reached the far side, the boat had a lot of trouble docking. Once it did, everything turned into total chaos. There were far more passengers than usual, not enough taxis, and everyone scrambled to find a ride.
Somewhere in all that confusion, Heika and I got separated. We never had a chance to say goodbye.
I was sad about it, but I also had a feeling that maybe, someday, we would cross paths again.
New York, Five Years Later
Sure enough, about five years later, I got a phone call from Heika. She was on the West Coast, biking from Vancouver, Canada, down to Tijuana, Mexico, over four months. She asked whether I would be around at the end of her trip in December, when she was flying back to Germany and had a stopover at JFK.
It was still two months away, but I immediately said yes.
The day after Christmas, I drove to JFK, picked her up, and we spent four days in New York City just being tourists. We went to the top of the Empire State Building, visited the World Trade Center, wandered through SoHo, Little Italy, Greenwich Village, Wall Street, and several other neighborhoods, and stayed in a few different hostels in different parts of the city.
One night, we bought tickets to Phantom of the Opera. I had no interest in going, but Heika said she would pay for good seats if I would come with her. So I went. We sat about six rows from the stage, right up front, and it turned out to be absolutely incredible. I was in tears by the end.
To this day, it is still the only Broadway show I have ever seen, and it is one I will never forget.
I have not seen or heard from Heika since that trip, but I am sure she is out there somewhere, traveling the world and having fun.