From there, it was just balance and slow movement to make my way to the heart of the tree. As is always the case, it wasn't all that simple - somewhere along the way I realized that some of what i thought was loose bark or some sort of tree tumor (don't ask...) was actually flourishing colonies of mega-ants who'd built nests out of mud. I get the impression that the tropics have more living things than non-living things. Anyway, for my own safety i bare-handedly knocked down the nests. They were either caught off guard or inactive at the time, because when the nest was gone, there were surprisingly few stragglers around to sound the alarm. In fact, i didn't even get bitten. I'm sure those ant have rebuilt by now... I mean what else is there to do if you're an ant? When I made it as high as I dared to go, i turned around and caught a pretty magnificant view of the ranch I hadn't seen before. I could see to the river in one direction, and all the way to the Llano in the other. It was really a nice moment.We left Los Limones in the early afternoon on the little motorboat, accompanied by a ranch hand and a shipment of cheese, bound again for San Miguelito (both us and the cheese). San Miguelito doesn't have a lot to it, but it does have an important feature - A massive concrete pier, complete with train rails for moving heavy loads to the pier.
Just along the main road by the pier, there are a series of strategically placed trees. They are deep green, and very tropical looking. I didn't have a camera, nor was my dad around to ask what type they were, but they were thick and proud girthy trees. Apparently my great grandfather had brought them from somewhere else, and planted them there on the main town road. That must have been 60 years ago... and every time i walk by them for the rest of my life I can remember that my relative (whom I never met) planted those. It is just a small detail, but it's part of the overall impact that this place has. I can walk around town and see my surname on restaurant signs, see the trees my great grandfather planted, and imagine all the stories and convivialities that have happened on the ranch that's been in my family for such a long time. It's a little eerie though, that the tangible connections that give my name and family its history are stored in a little under-developed corner of the world, tucked away in a tropical isthmus that I've spend only a few weeks of my entire life in. It's something I want to be a part of, but know i'm only a part of it on paper. I grew up somewhere entirely different, with different family, different goals, friends, ideas. I just keep hold of the notion that it's not too late - and i know i'll be back.
We spent the rest of the day eating at the Reastaurante Vega-Torres and sitting in rocking chairs waiting for the 8 hour ferry to Ometepe; a volcanic island on the other side of Lake Nicaragua where two massive, skyscraping volcanoes have broken their way out of the lake bed, erupted, and created impressive twin bulges. You can see the volcanoes from miles and miles away, long before you see any land. It is the world's highest lake island, yet the lake is just near sea level, meaning you have an exceptionally steep slope on those islands.
When we saw them in the distance, i started to wonder if we were really going to be up to the challenge, and actually climb to the top of one of them. Unfortunately these photos hardly do it justice. But, click on that Ometepe link i put a few lines up, read about it, book a ticket to Nicaragua, and invite me along :).
We decided to splurge on the boat ticket, and upgraded our tickets to first-class upper deck elite status on the boat. It cost a whopping $2 extra... man was it worth it. If only for the view. Around sunset, as promised, the ship showed up, and we lugged our ever-familiar packpacks down the pier, boarded, and waved goodbye to sleepy San Miguelito. Upon advice from Mando, we brought a couple of hammocks, which proved to be perhaps the most valuable of our travel additions - although not nearly as kickass as a 4 foot machete would have been (no, i'm not bitter).
It was shortly after embarkation that the melee began for hammock hanging privileges. It became a race for space, which we definitely didn't hesitate on. As you can see below, I made out pretty well. The hammock was a little tough to hang given only thin, slick poles instead of wide barky trees or hooks, but we made it with out slipping down into anyone else's space. My final thoughts as we pulled away were the size of that huge volcano in the distance, practically leaping out of the water in the distance. I couldn't help but think that at this point in time, there was nowhere in the world i'd rather be on my way to than that spectacular volcano.
And Nati got in on the action too:
The boat itself was pretty uneventful, but i slept better than I can remember. Sleeping in a hammock is relaxing enough, but gently swinging on tiny lake in a hammock, dampening the tiny lake waves in the open air is fantastic.
This lake is very special in a peculiar way. It's the only place on our fair planet earth with freshwater sharks. And these aren't like the 'freshwater' sharks in other parts of the world that just swim up river mouths. These sharks, as well as saw fish, tarpon, and many others, have actually acclimated to the fresh water. It's a variety of Bull Shark, and it can regulate its blood-salinity for buoyancy purposes like other sharks, but can also expell salt in its urine and equalize its salinity. For some reason, these freshwater sharks developed a bit of a taste for humans, and there's a historic period in time where the dwellers of Ometepe lived their whole lives never learning to swim! But, like so many fantastic natural phenomena, exploitation soon followed. In the 70's, Japanese shark-fin dealers, Tico fisherman, and the Somoza government all blind sided this 'renewable' resource, and they all but disappeared. It's pretty newsworthy when someone catches or even sees one.
As I thought about these sharks while being rocked to sleep like an infant, we made our way slowly across the lake towards the little port of Altagrácia. Little did I know that tomorrow's Volcano adventure would prove to be the hardest thing i've done in years.
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