- On the road, North-east
June, 1999
Travelling in a truck from Managua (the capital) to Leon Viejo (old Leon, though Leon means Lion), 30km from Leon. This is a reasonably long, and relatively uncomfortable journy sitting on a wooden bench. But when there´s not much money, and the road´s crappy, even nicely dressed schoolgirls have to put up with the bumps and dust.
Road trip to the Caribbean and back
From Lake Nicaragura my next destination was Corn Island, listed as Isla de Maiz on the map above. To get there you go by road to Rama, which is the furthest town toward the caribbean coast by land along this route (there is one other from Managua to Puerto Cabezas way in the north). From this point you need to take a boat to Bluefields on the coast. This could be a fast 'Panga' (2hrs), or a cheaper and slower cargo boat (5hrs). Then from Bluefields another cargo boat (another 5hrs) to Corn Island. From Corn Island to Puerto Cabezas and managua is a matter of luck and/or money.
From Lake Managua I caught a ride with some North American guys all the way to Rama - real lucky. On the way we had to cross a lilly fronded river by ferry. Wanna read a little kindergarden nursery-rhyme?
These people were paddling around in the lillies in their hand-carved canoes.
We spotted this sign along the way and just had to stop. I don't know if it's still current but I wasn´t prepared to go picnicking just the same.
We arrived at Rama with less than minutes to spare, and ran with great haste to catch the boat, which had already pushed off from the dock. After calling to the captain to bring the boat back, we boarded, only to smell this disgusting rotting flesh smell wafting from at least 50 hessian bags loaded onto the front deck of the boat. Seeing the screwed-up, questioning look on my face, the crew laughingly informed me that it was pig bits going to Bluefields for the lobster traps. Great! And where did the people have to sit? Back of the boat. No one else seemed to feel the same, but I sort of got used to the mixture of rotting pig remains and diesel fumes after the first hour or so. But then later I thought I did the smart thing by going down below to the machinery room and jumped into the mechanics vacant hammock. Then it was only noise and oil smell that I had to put up with - and sleeping made it even easier to cope with.
Not far out from Rama we picked up some hitch hikers; locals who live along the river.
As soon as the passengers get on, they string their hamocks up in any spare space they can find. There's probably about six in the space behind the girl.
Well, Corn Island was nice, but not the sort of island get-away that the travel books promised. It had a big processing factory near the dock, and not much beach.
Just before leaving the Port of Isla de Maiz (Corn Island) the rain came down and lightning struck nearly on top of us. The photo was taken from the mess room. I heard that this cargo ship would be arriving, making a round to Florida, USA, and stopping at Puerto Cabezas. I knew it was relatively difficult to get there, so I waited around 3 days, but finally it paid off; after getting permission from the captain, I obtained this 12 hour ride from Isla de Mais to Puerto Cabezas - meals included. The only downfall - I had to sleep on the mess floor, but who's complaining.
The next morning - blue skies. This is the ship I sailed on.
Sorry, no photos of Puerto Cabezas either - nothing nice or interesting to see, just a grubby coastal town. I didn´t even swim, because as with most poor areas, the sewerage gets piped directly to the sea.
Leaving Puerto Cabezas, I waited at a police check point, where a copper gave permission for a truck to pass on the provisor that he take me - the driver accepted.
This is just some little town nearby a river crossing. It consists of about 10-15 houses, and probably 5 or so families.
The winch drive on the barge was not working, so everyone pitches in to get us across - yes, me too. The wire rope was a bit greasy, so these guys didn´t want to use two hands.
... until I told them to get their backs into it for the photo (they even seem to like it in this one).
With the combination of the inclination of the ramp and the steepness of the bank, the back beam of the truck got stuck on the edge of the barge when driving off.
... so they jacked the beam up, stuck a rock under it, and tried to force it off. Eventually it worked.
On the long, long, hot, dusty, bumpy journey in the back of (and often on top of) a truck, we stopped half way to pick up a load of pigs. The lady on the left is the owner of the truck and the driver is her husband - looks like she´s having a good time. I think the pigs, however, have a different opinion. To test for quality, they ram an iron bar in their mouth to check their tongues for lumps, then tie them up and hang them for weighing.
Then they pick them up any way they can, usually by the ears, legs and tail, and hurl them into the back of the truck. Before we picked up the pigs, we were able to string some hammocks up in the back, giving us a little smoother ride. But for the rest of the journey we were forced to sit on a plank of wood on top.
The guy on the right is the driver.
The entire journey lasted from 4pm Tuesday until around 9am Thursday, stopping 7 hours and 5 hours to sleep at night. After finally getting off the bone-breaking truck in Managua, I caught the next bus directly for the beach at San Juan del Sur on the Pacific coast, and arrived exhausted. Ahhh... the good ol' Pacific.