Volanoes, Imperial cities, tacos and faceplants

I can hardly believe it is all coming to a screeching halt, but nothing lasts forever, not least volcano climbing, hammock swinging or surfing in paradise.
Following our turtle watching, horse riding and wild fishing experience on the caribbean coast of Costa Rica, Hugo and I braved something verging on 18 hours of chicken busses to get to Isla Omatepe, in Lake Nicaragua. We had been rather too confident of getting a place on the luxorious Trans Nica airconditioned, fully reclining seated bus (all for 12 dollars..) and discovered to our horror that they were fully booked and we had to slum it on a very slow, smelly local bus. So, it was with relief that we sucked in the fresh air on the shore of Lake Nicaragua, watching the smoke pour out of Volcano Concepcion far ahead of us.

Lake Nicaragua, although not the best place to go for a swim (20,000 bull sharks per year were killed for the Japanese sushi tables in the 90´s, I dont want to think how many there are sharking about in the brown murky waters now), is absolutely stunning and definitely worth a visit. We donned the well trodden in hiking boots and stormed Volcan Madeira (1394m) in about 2 and a half hours, going through dry tropical forest to wet dripping rainforest, moss and vines clinging to the trees through the clouds, to the green lagoon right at the top. Really beautiful, and I was grateful for the training Raleigh had given me when the guide commented on how fit we both were. (It´s just not something people usually say about me..)

From Isla Omatepe we hit Grenada full of charming town houses, a dilapidated cathedral and a buzzing town square full of artesians. Nearly bought a t-shirt with a picture of 2 armadillos on. The top armadillo said ármadillo´, the bottom one was covered in hand grenades and a machine gun and said ´Nicaraguan armadillo´which made me laugh. Probably quite politically uncorrect of me, but there we go.

I then dragged Hugo up to Miraflor to meet my Nicaraguan family and sleep in the grain storage hut (though no tarantulas this time), and he understood what Raleigh has been like for me. After telling everyone he is a farmer, he was taken to milk the cows, make tortillas, comment on the size of their pigs and then a 2 hour inspection of their coffee plantation and potatoe fields. Very funny. I was really chuffed to see the roof is now on the community centre that Raleigh started buildling, and I met with the lovely Don Antonio who told me the flooring is going down this week, so that is a good job very nearly well done.

It was therefore with slight bus-sickness that we got all the way back from the Honduran boarder to the south of the country for our last 3 days surfing at San Juan del Sur and its northern beach of Madeira. Although San Juan isn´t much, the remote beaches to the south and north are out of this world, and surfing there with absolutely no property development, no lifeguards, nothing, was quite adrenaline fuelled for me, a cornwall bred surfer. The first day we hired a boat to take us down the coast and it dropped us about 200m offshore, where we could see the terrifying spray of the massive waves crashing against the beach ahead of us.
We then hiked a km or so up the white beaches to get to Matildas campsite which had the dreamlike hammocks and a beach shack where you could buy juice in plastic sacks and ice if you pre-ordered it, and not much else. Needless to say, I have been pounded by the waves, bullied and crashed about by the mighty pacific and feel like every muscle in my body needs some serious spa treatment.

But now it´s homeward bound for me, and the end of the most fantastic 4 months away. I am really excited about getting back and seeing everyone and boring everyone stupid with photos. And if you have read Zannas comment on this blog, I hope to see you on the 19th at Aragon house.

Next update, London or Glasgow (gulp!)