A couple of weeks back I headed off to the opposite end of the country to explore the Río San Juan, which flows from Lake Nicaragua to the Caribbean Sea, forming the border with Costa Rica for most of it’s length. The river and the little towns and communities that are dotted along its shores felt a world away from my home in the dry, mountainous North. The department named for the grand river which flows through it is one of the most remote in the country, sandwiched in between Lake Nicaragua, Costa Rica, the Caribbean Sea and the vast and sparsely populated South Caribbean Coast Autonomous Region. Just getting to the capital is a significant undertaking in itself. After the four-hour journey from Ocotal, and a couple of hours waiting around in the bus station in Managua, I was on the bus again for a 7 hour-long haul to San Carlos – thankfully it was coach, offering a bit more comfort than the old school busses and their leg room fit for a 12-year-old!
Despite being the department capital San Carlos is a fairly small town, with a compact centre clustered on the shore of the river mouth. The hillside setting affords fantastic vista over the river and Lake Nicaragua disappearing off into the humid haze. This humidity was suffocating, showering seemed like a fruitless endeavour it was only a matter of minutes until I was once again a weary mess, even the built environment felt its effects – wearing a fuzzy green coat of moss and lichen. It wasn’t just this natural adornment which was different, but the underlying structures themselves – the heavy walled adobe buildings which dominated the northern cities and rural communities alike had faded away into simple timber structures with their large rustic weatherboards, greyed timber peeking through the peeling paint and greenery.
When I arrived the town was abuzz with festival spirit as the week-long celebrations for independence day got underway. The main square was hosting a massive stage adorned with the typical pro Sandinista propaganda, complete with massive photo of president Daniel Ortega and his wife smiling down, waving at the crowd. The adjoining waterfront malecon was lined with little market stalls selling artisanal products and delicious food treats (of which I sampled many, of course).
Next up was an exuberant procession of dance, music and culture through the streets. There were the high school marching bands (which were very good) and their much younger accompaniments (who were definitely only there for the cute factor), followed by a range of different dances ranging from traditional Nicaraguan folklore, some of which features spectacular costumes and masks, to some latin numbers, and some more modern choreography performed by the younger kids.
Before I continued on down the river on my journey to the Caribbean, I had to make a quick trip to Costa Rica to reset my 90 day visa. This was my third border run, and but now they were now becoming pretty routine – but this time was a little different. Instead of the incredibly busy Peñas Blancas crossing I went through at San Pancho, around 40 minutes from San Carlos. All was fine, until I came to re-enter Nicaragua, when the border post chief decided to through his weight around a bit, and keep me waiting for a couple of hours. I think that this was a combination of boredom (I only saw about a dozen other people pass through in this time, all Nicaraguans) as well as a weariness of international volunteers in the lead up to the national elections in November. As soon as I managed to convince him that I was only installing solar panels and not helping people fight for free and fair elections I was on my way.
After a quick change of plans due to the delay, and backtracking to San Carlos I was on the river and making my way to my next destination. The low-lying, narrow river boat shot through the glassy waters of the river, past farm land, lush jungle and elegant white birds, while the rush of fresh air provided a welcome relief from the stifling heat. The sun slowly sank down behind the boat, bathing the landscape in a rich golden glow, transforming what was already an amazing landscape into a scene so breath-taking it was hard to believe it was real. This was definitely one of those times when the problems of a frustrating day fade away, and you just lose yourself in the moment.
Suddenly the strong hum of the boats engines lowered to a gentle murmur, and we veered off course, pulling up a short time later at the wharf of the little riverside town of Boca de Sábalos, just as the sun finally descended below the horizon and the sky was briefly illuminated in a brilliant pink glow. The town of maybe a couple of thousand people at most, is split across the two banks of – as its name suggests – the mouth of the Río Sábalos, a tributary to Río San Juan. The “centre” of the town was on one side of the river with a few shops and comedores and a single dirt road leading back to San Carlos. The other side, reached with the help go a guy in a small row-boat ferrying people back and forwards, was a residential area linked only by footpaths.
Just once I thought that I had seen all of the town I stumbled across a cacao processing cooperative and popped in for a look, seeing the whole process from the fruit, through the fermentation and drying process, and even tasting. Apart from being lightly toasted (in a sandwich press of all things) and ground the beans were un processed. The result looked like extremely coarsely ground coffee, and had a rich delicious taste, unlike the harsh bitterness of commercial cocoa powder which has been striped of all its fatty cocoa butter.
Next stop was El Castillo a short 30 minute jaunt down the river. Coming down the river the first thing to come into view was the town’s namesake, Castillo de la Inmaculada Concepción, a 17th century Spanish fortress built to protect the city of Granada, on the shores of lake Nicaragua, and by extension the rest of colony from attacks by pirates. Even to today it is clear to see why this location was chosen, high on a hill, which depends directly down into a section of treehouse rapids below. A large section of the modern town is built at the bottom of these steep slopes in a single row, mostly over the river itself, with space for only a narrow footpath. This narrow footpath though is the main street, and a completely sufficient one at that, considering not a single car occupies this town of 1500. I think that this absence of vehicles, and the wide noisy roads that accompanies them played a big part in the general vibe of the town, which was very relaxed – the river life, it seems, agrees with me.
While soaking in the ambience, and relaxing next to the river with a toña or hand-made lemonade was great, the fortress was definitely the highlight. The historic structure itself was impressive, and unlike anything I had seen so far in Nicaragua, but combined with the vistas along the river and down onto the town below it was stunning. The mariposario (butterfly house) was also well worth a visit. The town is the main tourist stop on the river and so had a bit more in the way of accommodation and eating options, but I still saw no more than 10 foreigners during my three days there. It was interesting that of those few, all that I spoke to were also long-termers in Nicaragua, there were also quite a few who appeared to be wealthier Nicaraguans, or maybe Costa Ricans enjoying the holidays. Either way this was definitely off the gringo trail, thankfully!
Time to make a move again, and this time it was the longest leg 5 hours through the mostly uninhabited section of the river between El Castillo and the Caribbean coast. After about half an hour we reached the point where the Costa Rican border met the river, marked by a small cleared section in the jungle and a few little plastic Nicaraguan flags. From this point on we traveled through a murky no-mans-land (no-mans-water doesn’t have quit the same ring to it) between Nicaragua on the northern shore, and Costa Rica to the south. The scenery was absolutely stunning, with the thick untamed wilderness of the Indio Maíz Biosphere reserve on the Nicaraguan side, although the harsh midday sun stole away the magic that was there on that first leg of the journey. The Costa Rican side was a bit more diverse – in a not-so-good way – with a wide gamut from farm land to equally wild jungle as the reserve. While still no bustling town, the occasional glimpse of power lines and dirt roads as well as the odd farmhouse was a reminder that civilisation was much closer on the southern side. Things carried on like this for roughly the first three-quarters of the journey, where not a soul was seen on the Nicaraguan shore apart from the roughly hourly check-ins at a Nicaraguan military check point, where without fail, as the only chele (white guy) on board, I was singled out for a passport check.
The Nicaraguan side was so devoid of human occupation that our only option for a stop was in Costa Rica, where the 30 or so passengers piled out to get a coffee and snacks in a little convenience store emblazoned with Costa Rican flags (just incase there was any confusion) but once inside all of the prices were in Nicaraguan Córdobas! While I guess, technically, we illegally entered the country everyone was back on the boat again in under 15 mins, having done their little bit for the Costa Rican economy. It wasn’t long after this that the reserve boundary moved back a little from the shore line, and the seemingly impenetrable natural wall gave way to slightly more open land, and the occasional basic house. It must be a very isolated existence – for most of them, their nearest neighbours were at least a couple of hundred metres away, usually more, and there were definitely no roads here, not even of the pedestrian variety – just a little motorboat or sometimes only a wooden canoe tied up on the shoreline in front of the house.
All of a sudden, it seamed, the high surrounding jungle flattened out and gave way to an open delta, the captain revved the engine and we spend the last few kilometres across the estuary, and into the Indio river catching a glimpse of the Caribbean coast along the way before pulling up at the wharf at San Juan de Nicaragua. As had been the way for the rest of this trip so far I arrived in town without a plan – no worries, I would just ask around. At first I though the guys at wharf were just being unhelpful when they simply responded aquí (here) when I asked where the centre of town was. Turns it was just a really small town, and the park adjacent to the wharf was pretty much the extent of the “centre”. Anyway I picked a road (aka footpath) and wandered for a bit. I would have gone no more a couple of hundred meters, but it was so damn hot it felt like an eternity, so I settled on the first place I found. It ended up being a good choice.
The town of San Juan de Nicaragua (formerly San Juan del Norte – which is really confusing seeing as it is one of the southernmost points in the country) is a small, but relatively spread out town, and like many on the Caribbean Coast, very, very isolated. Like some of my previous destinations there were no road or cars, but the town seemed to be laid out to allow for this in the future, with road sized gaps in between the houses, occupied by diminutive looking meter wide footpaths – a lot of which were elevated above the ground, which was quite swampy in areas. The town itself had a bit of a strange feel, I think that these dis-proportionate streetscapes had a part to play, but there were also a large number of abandoned buildings. There was a waterfront bar, that looked fairly recently dis-used that almost looked like someone had just left one day, some hadn’t even finished construction, while others were almost ruins slowly crumbling, only to be reclaimed by nature.
The central park was a different story though, like many places in Nicaragua this week celebrations for Independence Day were still continuing. The park was abuzz with loud music, Toña swilling locals and a cloud of meat infused smoke wafting from the food stalls. there was a particularly interesting part of the celebrations which included a boy of maybe 12 climbing up a greased up power pole to retrieve treats and cash. When we arrived he was around half way up, and from there it took him a good hour in the baking sun to make it to the top, at which point he showered sweats and bottles of coke on the crowd below.
Almost of the sights in the area required a boat to get to, so I arranged a trip with a local guide, but there weren’t many tourists in town, so it looked like it might just be me and the guide. Luckily I met up with Sophia and Sascha, a couple of Danish girls at my hotel who were in town working on a tourism internship. After a coffee on the patio over the river to start the day we were off.
As we cruised down the river our guide Augencio gave a great overview of the history of the area, and then we stopped of at the ruins of an old light house, but we were all more interested in a monkey with her baby making their way through the canopy above. Next stop was the towering remnants of a 19th century dredge from the first attempt to construct an intercontinental canal in Nicaragua. We stopped off at a couple of other historic sights, including the ruins of the 19th century British settlement Greytown, of which only the eerie cemeteries remained, before venturing into the reserve. The Indio Maiz Reserve, is one of the largest and best protected in the country, but we didn’t even scrape the surface. The highlight was definitely spotting a brilliant red, and surprisingly tiny Strawberry Poison Dart Frog.
The rest of the day was spent relaxing on the river’s edge sipping radiant purple dragon fruit juice, enjoying the last of the Caribbean tranquility before the long journey back to civilisation the next day. Despite the many hours spent on boats and busses, this hidden gem tucked away in a forgotten corner of the country, is truly breathtaking and worth every bit of effort.
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