Wednesday, 22 December 2010

Sweating & itching in Santa Catalina

The travels continue from Nicaragua and into Panama
   
It has taken some time, but I've now realised why I seem to have lost weight. Things like being active and eating healthily would seem the most likely, but alas no. It's time for the less glamourous aspect of travelling to emerge; sweating and itching. When leaving the Isla de Ometepe in Nicaragua, the weather took a soggy turn and for two and half days of buses from southern Nicaragua to Western Panama (straight through Costa Rica) it's been very wet and humid. That's the que for me to sweat like gun-ho business secretary and for the legions of mosquitoes to descend upon the very tasty blood of yours truely. Girls will hate me for this, but the combination of sweating and itching has left me 10-12 lbs lighter, I´ve even had to send some clothes home, as they simply don't fit anymore. 
 
Finally arriving in Panama I was greeted with some superb rain, that would put most downpours in England to shame, as the rain here is so hard it hurts, and is a great temporary relief from itching too. After almost 3 days on buses I was glad to be in the very quiet village of Santa Catalina, a surfing destination on the south coast of Panama. http://www.flickr.com/photos/richsmith/5268793417/in/set-72157625641318808/
 
I was recommended to come here by Karen and Nicky in the LSC (London Surf Club), so I was fully expecting huge knarli beach breaks, ferocious spitting barrells and a point break only attemptable by jet-ski tow-in. Day one in Santa Catalina was about 1-2 feet and with a howling on-shore wind. Score. Thankfully, things did pick up from there.

I'd made friends with a German guy on the bus and we decided to check out the Surfer's Paradise just on the road to the beach. I can understand that paradise is a matter of opinion, but I'm certain that paradise should at least be finished before accepting guests. The high point of this place was the views of the point break and beach and the 4 labradors/golden retrievers that lived there. Low points were to numerous to count but my favourite had to be that there were no doors to the rooms, which meant that all four dogs would make their way into our room at night and try and sleep on the beds with us. 

The dogs were called Blondie, Bono, Coffee and The Other One. Blondie was a German dog and had lived his first few months trapped in an apartment, so being unleashed in Panama he was permenantly hyperactive, kind of like the dog Marley from the film Marley & Me (...thanks Sarah!). On one evening he led the charge of all the dogs to follow us from the hostel all the way to the pub in the village (this is a 20 minute walk). He also tried to go surfing with us on one occasion and nearly drowned himself. 


The beach breakdown the road always looked a lot worse than it usually was. I'm reminded of the mantra Lloyd from the Surf Club always quotes,"surfing is always worth it". How right he is. Hitting the low tide in the morning the waves often appeared small, gutless and uninspiring. But on closer inspection and having dropped the crowds for the east end of the beach, it wouldn't be long before shoulder to head high waves would come through providing late drops and fast beach break waves making the sessions super fun and all the more fulfilling given the previous outlook.


For the first couple of days I was surfing with the German lad but after I beat him twice at chess he left town. I'd like to think it was hurt pride and shame that drove him home, but I think that the fact he ran out of money in a village with no ATM, is more likely. After he left I moved into the village and stayed at place called Rolo's. The man in charge is a local surfing legend and is the man as far as the local spots are concerned. 

One afternoon Rolo took me and an Auzzie called Mick out to the point in his boat. Although a truely lazy way to surf, it was pretty cool zooming out on to the point and jumping off with my board, beats paddling out any day. The waves here only break 2 hours either side of high tide but it really magnifies the swell. It might be 2 foot on the beach break but when the points is working it's usually at least 2-3 feet bigger. After finally bagging a wave from the crowds I made the epic paddle back in with Mick, who proved himself to be the Mick Dundee of surf, going on ahead and sussing out the route back.

I spent most of the remaining time surfing the beachie with another Auzzie Chris and by this point the swell was providing some steep faces making dropping in a bit of lottery but a hell of a lot of fun. My signature move is still the faceslap wipe out but it's slowly becoming less common. For a couple of days I'm in the line up at the beach with my water proof camera, snapping some excellent wipe out shots of some more friends I'd made. 


Through out my travels I keep thinking to myself, "I´d love to come back here" and Santa Catalina definitely fits the bill, but not for the surf, but for the milkshakes. Two German girls moved here last year and have set up a surf shop Surf n Shake, and serve up the most delicious smoothies and milkshakes. I end up selling my board to them in Santa Catalina and I have to see sense that trading it in for an endless supply of banana and chocolate milkshakes is not a good idea. I'm very sad to see the board go, having carried it from California, even if I´m now carrying a lot less. A banana and chocolate milkshake soon makes me feel a lot better.

Santa Catalina is a wonderful place and for surfing it's definitely got my vote, but the village is not just about surfing. It's also the launch point for the one of the world's best kept secret diving locations. Offshore there are islands in a national park, that diving instructors from renouned diving destinations (Bay Islands, Honduras and Belize) absolutely rave about. If I come back here, I wouldn't be worried about a flat spell, as there's plenty of fun to be had below the surface. 


I stayed here for about a week and now that my surfing batteries had been recharged, I was prepared to head on to Panama City and see about a boat to Colombia. Most people who surf or know me, can understand that you can't go too long without waves, I'm hoping by the time I´ve sweated out a few more pounds and got my itch to get back in the water, the next place will be just as good. 

More photos in the usual place:

Saturday, 18 December 2010

Going back in time in Nicaragua

Finally on a boat bound for Isla de Ometepe I was glad to be gone from Granada. The large volume of ex-pat owned bars and restaurants didn´t justify the praise that´s been heaped on the City. I think some of the best experiences I´ve had so far, have been when up close with the local way of life. Sure I´m far too comfortable in some of the back-packer haunts and sometimes it´s hard to imagine I´m not in a European city, but the inevitable process of ex-pats moving in for business or retirement seems only to dilute the charm of a place. Granada is a case and point.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/richsmith/sets/72157625618777354/

I can accept this change as inevitable but one night I saw how quickly things were changing. One evening in the Imagine bar (yes a perfect starting point to criticize ex-pat business, a Beatles tribute bar...) there was a book launch evening for new travel guides to Nicaragua. OK, so nothing new, travel guides are essential and I´d feel fairly lost without mine, but I draw the line at releasing A guide to living and working abroad in Nicaragua. I thought the point of travelling was to experience the traditional, that travel writers would want to preserve the soul and culture of a country, not exploit it. If Granada is the case study for how Nicaragua might change as more people retire and set up business here, then I´m glad I´m here now, as I can´t imagine things will stay this way for long. Anyway, rant over...

If Granada is heaven for the retirees of the western world, then the island on Lake Nicaragua, Ometepe is like rewinding progress 50 years or so and is taste of what Nicaragua really is. The island is the formation of two volcanoes giving the place an hour-glass outline, and most people come here to climb them or simply relax like a sloth. I was definitely more of the latter. Getting to the island late at night, I was pounced on by the island´s only irritating tout and didn´t manage to shake him off until the next day. Even the other locals didn´t like him.

Idiot free I hit the south side of the island to get some serious hammock time in and swim in the lake. Keen to reach one of the lagoons and mini islands I struck off on foot (literally bare foot) along the headland to get across and to this special island. Having severely underestimated the a) distance b) the amount the lake had risen c) how important foot ware is and d) just how hot it was, I managed to get out to the headland about a 1km away and completely lost. Nice one. Thankfully a quick detour through the jungle via some rather surprised vultures and some sunbathing monkeys I found the lake and elected to swim back to the hotel. This time a far better decision, although the swim was over 1000 metres back and I couldn´t help but remember that this was one of the only fresh water lakes in the world to be home to the Bull Shark...
 
Back on dry land and thankfully told that whilst Bull Sharks are reputedly quite aggressive (one of the highest levels of testosterone in the animal kingdom), they were over-fished from the Lake years ago and are now quite rare and are very rarely seen. I made friends with some Americans that evening and was treated to some delightful lake fish and some traditional Nica grub. Food here is basic, but delicious, and you can all count on me trying to cook up some Nica food when I get back. Mum, you may want to put on a lock on the kitchen door.  

Bored of relaxing and in need of something a bit more interesting, I travelled to the other side of the lake. A distance that should only take about 15 minutes. That´s 15 minutes if there were regular buses and the roads didn´t look like the playground of King Kong. On these roads, mountain bikes overtake buses and horses overtake them both so unsurprisingly it took about 3 hours to cross the island to the eco-lodge retreat of El Zopilote.

This place was great to chill out at after a days mountain biking and take in some amazing views from their own purpose built look-out (mirador) tower. After screwing up my toe for the millionth time I bailed on climbing the volcanoes, the view is supposed to be amazing, but as they´re both covered by cloud most of the time I figured I could see better from my hammock than from at the top.

The only thing that resembled me not being a lazy toe-rag was when I teamed up with a Swedish girl and two French girls to go mountain biking to the infamous Oyo de Agua. It´s supposedly a volcanic spring pool. It´s actually a natural spring that´s been diverted to some man made pools, but it is still brilliant. Having realigned my spine on the ride there, I´m quick to regress back to being a 7 year old child in a swimming pool as the Oyo de Agua is brilliant. Cool, clear and deep water is  the perfect place to crack out the underwater camera and as ever it seems my camera does the business.

Videos
http://www.flickr.com/photos/richsmith/5268722679/in/set-72157625499618303/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/richsmith/5269370342/in/set-72157625499618303/

 A gargantuan effort to get around the lake on bike is thwarted by the consistently terrible roads and possibly my lack of patients. I did happen to have the one bike that had brilliant suspension yet terrible gears. After one particularly tricky ascent, when the gears locked and the chain came off for the hundredth time, I decided what was right in the mind of a 7 year old child with the strength of an adult and hurled my bike into the bushes. Very mature. French girls not impressed... and I thought I had Joie de vivre...

Back in the hostel I decided it was time to move on and get to the coast. A surf was needed, further mountain biking definitely was not.

Onward to the Nicaraguan border, through Costa Rica to Panama...
 
Photos other than the above are
 
http://www.flickr.com/photos/richsmith/sets/72157625499618303/