Here’s the thing about the Sea Latch Inn. There were a couple of places in the vicinity with Vacancy signs, but we chose to go in there because they advertised “Free Hot Breakfast”. Little did we know that this would be provided at the Lobster Cove, the very restaurant we’d gone to for lunch the day before, three quarters of a mile south of the hotel. I’m not sure if you all can appreciate the degree to which Bob and I did not want to start walking south in the morning. But breakfast awaited, so southward we went, and in the end I was halfway to my 10,000 step goal on the fitbit before we even officially set off for the day.
It was a gorgeous morning on Long Sands, but high tide was approaching, which led to the funny sight of a huge stretch of empty beach, with big crowds of people clustered together on the very upper fringe. (Not much of Long Sands is around at high tide.) We started our walk down on the beach, and caught a little of a surfing competition as we went by.
Even though it added substantially to our mileage, we set off down the Cape Neddick peninsula in order to see the Nubble Light at the end. Lots of people here, too, and it gratified us to see that they were having trouble finding parking spaces.
If we thought Long Sands was crowded, that was nothing to Short Sands, on the other side of the peninsula. It also seems to have a high-tide problem, and every inch of sand seemed to be covered in humanity. Bob and I were getting pretty warm by this time, so we found a spare bit of rocks on which to put our bags and took a quick dip in the water. By the time we got out, the tide was threatening that spot, too.
One highlight on Shore Road — the church where we got married 18 years ago. We elected not to visit the Cliff House next door, where we had our reception, because of the very long, uphill driveway.
The water, by the way, is…bracing. Last time we went to the beach in NH it was surprisingly not-frigid, and checking in at the Sea Latch we heard the woman at the desk tell someone, “The ocean is really warm. They measured it at 68 this morning!” (This was not meant for sarcasm. 68 is in fact very warm for the ocean in Maine.) But alas, by the time we got to the beach, the currents had changed or something and the ocean was back to its usual breathtaking, ankle-numbing temperature. Still, though it was not entirely pleasant to jump in, it felt very good afterward — and gave us a little chilling that would last well into the walk.
Perkins Cove
The walk today was similar to yesterday in that the start was pleasant and fun — some beaches to swim at, a nice restaurant for lunch in Short Sands, lots of beauty around to look at — but then we ended up on a long slog on a rather boring road that was not made for pedestrians. This time it was Shore Road leading between York and Ogunquit, and for most of its 4.4-mile length it proved to be similar to the dreaded Brave Boat Harbor Road from yesterday. In this case, we were at least occasionally rewarded with scenic water views.
The end of the walk really shone today, though. After coming into Ogunquit, we took a side street and footbridge into incredibly scenic (and again, incredibly crowded and hard-to-park-in) Perkins Cove. We took a break to have drinks at a restaurant overlooking the Atlantic (and oddly, staffed entirely with young Eastern European women. We would later find this to be the case with many places in Ogunquit.)
The last mile was down the stunning Marginal Way footpath, which winds along the rocky coastline. And the best part was that we knew exactly where we were going. After our debacle trying to find a hotel in York, we decided to book ahead in Ogunquit — and through some kind of tripadvisor loophole were able to book the last available room in a B&B that, like almost everywhere, typically has a two-night minimum. It’s right in the heart of town and is lovely, with a porch swing looking out over a broad lawn and the busy (oh, yes, it’s incredibly crowded here as well) streets (and also a nice lady who gave us Band-aids for our blisters). We sat there at the end of the day, eating our ice cream, after a pleasant stroll around town and dinner at a gourmet pizza & craft beer restaurant.
Total mileage (not including side trips): 11.2 miles
I was asleep by the time Bob posted last night, so I didn’t get to make any editorial comments. That being said, I need to officially object to the term “little bit” as used to describe the extra amount we ended up walking yesterday. Checking our route on google maps, I see that we walked an extra 4.2 miles, not counting some of the extra back and forth to the beach, the restaurant, etc.
And we did it without a lot of breaks, either. There was a restaurant immediately after Fort McClary State Park, about 3.5 miles into our journey, but we weren’t really hungry yet and we’d just taken a little break at the park, so we passed it by. (We considered getting lunch to go at the general store next door, which advertised the “world’s best sandwiches” — but then we saw the “Trump 4 President” sign in the window and Just Couldn’t Do It.)
Restaurants — or anything else of interest, really — proved to be pretty thin on the ground after that. The first part of our walk, through Portsmouth and downtown Kittery, was really lovely, with an active waterfront full of quaint businesses. (We definitely fail to properly appreciate them since they’re so close to home.) Kittery Point was lovely, too, with its perfectly maintained New England houses, gorgeous gardens in the front and glimpses of lobster boats and floating buoys in the background. But once we got past the fort, it was just road and vegetation and the occasional house.
As a result, we didn’t end up stopping to eat until about 3:00 in the afternoon, when we fortified ourselves with beer, crab cakes, and sweet potato fries at the Lobster Cove. Luckily, this set us up well for our dinner, since the earliest reservation available at Mimmo’s was 8pm. (It was crucial that we get into Mimmo’s, not because of its great reputation but because everything else would have meant a longer walk.)
Long Sands Beach
And so, despite the fact that the day didn’t turn out quite as planned, it all ended happily. Our huge and delicious Italian dinner (followed by a brownie sundae at a nearby ice cream stand) was just what we needed. Afterwards we watched a group of people releasing some kind of candle-powered floating lanterns out over the ocean, with a huge almost-full moon in the background.
Total mileage for the day (not including side trips): 14 miles.
Well, we’ve been back at home for three months now, and in many ways it feels like we never left. After jumping back into our usual routine of school, work, and activities, our Central America trip seems like another world. So, time for a new (mini) adventure!
With the kids all away at camp for two weeks (!), Bob and I had three criteria for what we wanted to do: (1) not too expensive, and (2) fairly close to home in case we needed to do an emergency camp pickup, and (3) something that we couldn’t easily do with the kids along.
My mind immediately jumped to some kind of walking or biking trek. I’ve always wanted to do one of those European vacations where you walk from village to village, past castles and sheep and cheese shops, and arrive each night at a quaint little inn where your bags are waiting for you. Though I did briefly toy with this idea, it didn’t meet criterion #2 and a quick look at air prices made #1 right out as well. I started to look closer to home. Apart from one possibility in Vermont (which, despite the name “inn to inn tours” seemed to imply that a car was a necessity), I didn’t come up with anything.
So, then I started thinking, we can do this by ourselves, right? I mean, we could pack really light. Our bags wouldn’t be very heavy. (I have yet to confirm this with a test run. Based on past experience, I’m a bit apprehensive about this assumption.)
Will this get me through five days? Will it fit in my pack? Time will tell.
And in terms of destination — well, we have one of the most beautiful areas in the country right here. And a little googling revealed that there are indeed quaint little towns (possibly with cheese shops, though castles and sheep seem unlikely) strung out at convenient 10- to 15-mile intervals along the route.
So, we’ll be walking up the Maine coast, starting in beautiful downtown Portsmouth, NH. We’ll cross the bridge into Kittery, ME and continue on for five days or so, hopefully ending in Old Orchard Beach. When we arrive at our final destination, we’ll hop on the Downeaster Amtrak line and cruise right back to Durham.
The plan was to avoid car travel entirely by starting our journey with the COAST bus from Durham (a short walk from our house) to Portsmouth. Unfortunately, this morning I discovered a little note on the schedule that indicates, “No weekend routes in reduced service season.” Given that this bus is run by UNH, summer falls squarely into that category. So we may need to prevail upon a friend for a ride to the starting line.
Along the way we’ll see state parks, lighthouses, cliff walks, arcades, T-shirt shops, and lots and lots of coastline. First stop: York Harbor, approximately 11 miles (via a coastal route) from Portsmouth. We’re crossing our fingers on finding a convenient hotel, since it’s a high-season Saturday night and most places have a two-night minimum. Still, I figure someone will take pity on us if we show up on the doorstep. (If not, one of you locals might be getting a phone call.)
It’s hard to believe we’ve been on Caye Caulker, a small island in Belize, for almost a week already. More Caribbean than Central American in feel, the motto here is “Go Slow” and people take it pretty seriously. We’ve slipped into the rhythm ourselves, and the days have slid away like pearls on a string.
We all laughed with delight when we got off the ferry here and saw the tropical paradise: streets made of white sand, lined with palm trees and brightly-colored buildings, with the impossibly turquoise sea stretching out beyond. Better yet, Caye Caulker is also a safe and friendly place. We ride our bike around the car-less streets, weaving among pedestrians and golf carts. Rastafarians smile and shout out greetings from roadside shops, and we smile and wave back. Everyone seems to know everyone on this tiny island, and it feels like if you stayed for a few weeks you’d know everyone too. It’s a far cry from other places I’ve been in the Caribbean, where wealthy tourists are barricaded into their resorts to prevent any possibility of contact with the native population.
Rush hour
We have a lovely house with a pool, and our friends the Brookses have the same a couple of blocks away. We’ve spent much of our time swimming — in the pools, in the ocean at “the Split” (where a channel cuts the island in two), off the dock that our house has access to — and biking around town.
THEY NEVER STOP EATING
Less happily, we also seem to spend a great deal of time thinking about our next meal and running to the store, since feeding 12 people is not a casual endeavor. Fortunately we found vendors of fresh tortillas, and no one has complained about frequent meals composed of some variation on tortillas, cheese, salsa, and guacamole. It seems like one meal is barely finished before they want to eat AGAIN.
Luckily we’ve also been able to sneak out for a few adults-only restaurant meals. The other day the kids were very excited to create their own “restaurant” and cook while we went out. Preparations were elaborate and they lived up to their agreement to clean up afterwards, so everyone was happy.
Today we split up into two groups. Zoe and Nadia joined most of the Brookses for an adventure that they will be describing in the future, while Bob and I took Lanie and Ganya on a tubing trip. We were pulled along behind a boat through the clear, blue-green waters around the perimeter of the island, with juice and rum punch being passed back to us at frequent intervals on a surfboard. A good time was had by all.
Tomorrow we sadly say goodbye to Caye Caulker, heading back to the mainland and into the western mountains. We also say goodbye to the Brookses, but not for long — we’ll be heading home in just over a week! It seems hard to believe. Two more stops in Belize and then we’re done.
After our extremely long travel day, we arrived at our final destination in Costa Rica — Manuel Antonio National Park. We’re here for five days, and are moving at a pretty relaxed pace — especially given the heat and humidity. (I’ve been moving at a particularly slow pace, as I found myself sidelined for a couple of days with nausea and stomach ailments. But yesterday I pulled out the 80-pound medical kit that I’ve been hauling all over the continent, and decided to hit it from all angles — immodium, rehydration salts, antibiotics. I’m not sure what worked, but I’m much better now.)
Today we headed for the park itself, which consists of a string of beaches with reefs offshore, bordered by jungle that rises sharply into high hills. Even the bus ride was beautiful, with the blue-green Pacific stretching out far below us. And the park certainly did not disappoint.
Bob and I pretty quickly determined that if someone wanted to go just one place in Costa Rica, this would be a pretty solid choice. The beaches were amazingly beautiful. There were miles of trails through the jungles. And the animals — well, it was hard to believe. In most place you have to really cross your fingers that (a) the animals will be around, and (b) you will be able to find them (which generally requires a guide). But here, it was like the animals were all auditioning for the next National Geographic
Mama capuchin with very new baby
centerfold. Monkeys, sloths, deer, raccoons were all practically throwing themselves in our path. Monkeys, in particular, were everywhere, including a troop of the supposedly rare, elusive, and endangered squirrel monkey, which are endemic to this park. Many of the monkeys were carrying adorable little babies on their backs.
You could hike up through the rain forest to a high lookout point with an amazing Pacific view, commune with the monkeys for a while, then loop back down and cool off with a dip in that same Pacific. What could be better?
Panoramic shot at Cathedral Point
View from the Cathedral Point trail
Well, there is one thing. The observation Bob and I made seems to have been shared by some other people. A LOT of other people, in fact. All of whom were here today also, cluttering up the paths and poking us with their cameras and blocking our views. We’re not used to that in Central America. (Apparently most of them are Americans. Someone asked me about the beach on the path today (in Spanish! and I answered!) and then asked where I was from. When I said the U.S., the woman he was with shook her head and said, “Encore!” Too bad for her that I haven’t completely forgotten my high school French (though learning Spanish has irretrievably messed it up) and knew that she was saying, “Again?!” rather than asking for a repeat performance of my masterful Spanish.)
The “rare” and “elusive” squirrel monkey
Anyway, this place is an excellent closer for Costa Rica. I’m glad we came here late in the trip. Otherwise, some of our other wildlife experiences, with less promiscuous animals, might have seemed disappointing. Tomorrow we have one more day of relaxing (sunset and possibly surfing on the beach is planned) and then off to our final two weeks in Belize!
The main Spanish vocabulary that the girls have learned involves ice cream flavors.
We’re here in the Caribbean lowlands, and boy has the weather changed. It is HUMID here, as well as hot. Most of the other places we’ve been so far have been only one or the other (apart from Arenal, but we had air conditioning there so we didn’t notice so much). We hang our damp bathing suits up to dry, and the next morning they don’t feel any different.
We have a great little house here in Cahuita, tucked away into the jungle but just a short walk from the beach, town, and national park. Bob and I, at any rate, are happy to be rid of the car.
Cahuita is a tiny town, but with a very cool vibe that’s different from anywhere else we’ve been. It’s our first trip to the Caribbean, and the influence of the early immigrants from Jamaica and the other West Indies is obvious. Brightly colored shacks and stands line the roads and reggae music blasts from the bars and shops. White sand beaches curve away from town in both directions, with the beautiful blue/green hue of the Caribbean just beyond.
Catching up on some homework
We’ve had a pretty relaxing time here, catching up on schoolwork and strolling the beaches and town streets — and running to the little local market approximately 6 times a day. (You don’t have to plan well when the market is a five-minute walk.) Apart from snorkeling, our big outing was to Cahuita National Park, which was created to preserve the offshore reef as well as the beach and rainforest. (As an aside, there are a lot of national parks in Costa Rica, but they are not remotely on the same scale as what you would see in a US park. Cahuita, for example, consists of a single trail in the jungle that runs parallel and just next to the beach.)
Snake eating a lizard! Kind of hard to see but theres a tail sticking out of his mouth.
We hiked along the trail, jungle to one side of us and gorgeous beaches to the other. There was plenty of wildlife to be seen. Most notable were the Capuchin monkeys, which became increasingly populous as we got further from the entrance. By the time we got to our endpoint, Punta Cahuita, they were all over the place, scurrying through the trees and eyeing our lunches.
There were also a huge number of horseshoe crabs in all shapes and sizes. The girls spent a substantial amount of time rounding these up into sandy pens and looking around for larger, empty shells to try to entice them to upgrade. We determined that there’s a bit of a hermit crab housing crisis, though, because we couldn’t find anything. Punta Cahuita is entirely composed of bits of different corals and shells, which made for hurting feet but was also beautiful and fascinating to comb through.
Monkey scheming to get our lunch.
The coral and shell beach at Punta Cahuita
Other than that trip, we’ve been taking a cue from our surroundings and taking it easy. We go swimming in the warm blue waters, browse through the shops in town, or hang out in the yard of our house. (The other day we saw a sloth fall out of a tree just outside our yard. It seemed to recover.) Bob and I even walked down to the nearby Reggae Bar one night after getting the kids to bed. (It took three nights for us to work up the energy for this, even though we started talking about it the first day.)
Crowded beaches
It’s just as well we don’t have a strict agenda, because things are a bit crazy here this week. Semana Santa (Holy Week) is a big deal here, with the whole country on break and flocking to the beaches. The usually deserted beaches and sleepy town were thronged with locals. At one point we looked around the crowded beach and concluded that we were the only obviously international tourists in sight.
On our last night we decided to have a roving dinner of all the delicious-looking street food that we’ve seen being cooked up, and it did not disappoint. Pura vida!
I don’t know exactly what this thing was, but it was delicious.
We’re settled into life here in Costa Rica, which has largely meant making peace with seeing the money flying out of our bank account. We sure ain’t in Nicaragua anymore.
Nadia contributes to the economy by adding another country to her growing toenail clipper/bottle opener collection.
To be fair, the two main places we’ve stayed thus far — Monteverde Cloud Forest and Arenal Volcano — are major tourist destinations. There are many, many things to do — and all of them cost big bucks. We were very happy that we’d done ziplining and some guided cloud and rainforest tours in Nicaragua. The main thing that’s killing us is that here, everything is charged per person. This makes sense to us for some things, but perplexes us when it comes to hiring a tour guide. If one of us wanted a guided tour, the guide would take that person around for $18. But if five of us want to tag along — well, now we’re up to $18 * 5.
For obvious reasons, we don’t have many good pictures from the night tour. This is a phosphorescent beetle, kind of like a firefly, on Lanie’s head.
So, we’ve been pretty selective on which of the vast array of available activities to pursue. In Monteverde, we signed up for a night tour of the cloud forest, but skipped the guided daytime tour and just walked around on our own. The night tour was pretty cool, and we saw some interesting animals — a sloth, an olingo (which apparently is related to the kinkajou), a tarantula, a porcupine, and a glowing beetle — but the place we did it was mobbed with groups of tourists, all crowding around the same trees and bumping into each other in the dark. (We also did the El Trapiche tour, as previously described, and this was unanimously felt to be worth the hefty price tag based on the food samples provided.)
Our first view of Volcan Arenal.
We set out for our next destination, Arenal Volcano, with some trepidation. I think we may have failed to describe the drive to Monteverde because we’re trying to block it out of our memories, but “harrowing” would be a good word to describe the boulder-strewn barely-a-road through the mountains (surrounded by beautiful scenery that we were unable to appreciate because of (a) motion sickness, and (b) the terror that at any moment the car would break an axle or get a flat tire). When we finally arrived, we parked the car in the driveway and pretty much didn’t move it again until it was time to leave.
It’s five o’clock somewhere.
If you look at a map, Monteverde and Arenal seem to be quite close together. However, because the drive involves 45km on a dirt road followed by a long drive around a lake, it takes 3-4 hours. Bob and I focused our thoughts on the microbrewery that we had read was halfway to our destination, and forced ourselves into the car.
This drive, though terrible by ordinary standards, turned out to be a little easier than the previous one, so we were pleasantly surprised. The car only made horrible clunking noises (as it hit the rocky road) a few times, and we only stalled a couple. For the most part, we didn’t need to shift into first and chant, “I think I can…” to make it up the hills. And oh, that magical moment when we got to Lake Arenal and the pavement began.
Things went so well that we actually arrived at the brewpub, our planned lunch destination, about 10:30. Fortunately the owner was friendly, and happy to have us sit there for a while using their free wifi — and Bob and I decided to stretch a point on “appropriate hours for beer consumption.” The brew pub was gorgeous, with huge windows overlooking the lake, but the beer was rather disappointing. (I tried a pineapple beer, which sounded quite exciting, but turned out, like the other beer we tried, to not taste like too much.)
And our apartment in La Fortuna, at the base of the dramatic Volcan Arenal, turned out to be terrific. The minute we arrived, the owner William, who lived the next apartment over, had brought his dog out to play with the girls and was proudly showing us all the edible plants that were growing in the yard and up for grabs. The apartment was just a block or two from the town center, easy to find (probably the first time we didn’t have to reverse
La Fortuna
our tracks multiple times!), and had everything we needed. The volcano photo at the top of this post is the view from our living room window. The town was cute (though very touristy), with a lovely town square featuring lots of flowers and dramatic views of the volcano rising above the pretty church.
We took our first day pretty easy, getting some schoolwork in and walking to a nearby (free!) swimming hole. (This was absolutely beautiful, with twin waterfalls gushing into a deep blue pool under the trees, but we were warned so thoroughly about theft that we didn’t bring our camera
Also, our apartment has iguanas in the yard.
with us.) On the advice of our host, we’d booked an animal-watching tour the next day — 5:30am sharp! Read all about it from Lanie tomorrow.
Now that we have left Nicaragua behind, below is a round-up of the favorite Nicaragua experiences of each member of the family. There is a bit of overlap, but not as much as you might think! To read our original posts on these subjects, click the underlined link.
Bob’s List
None more white.
Tour of Leon Cathedral roof: This surpassed any expectation I had by at least 1,000 percent. Never have I seen such a pristinely white environment (at least one that did not involve snow). The sight of it was shocking. The sensation of walking barefoot on the clean roof, with its warm — but not hot — surface was a pleasant experience and also a good lesson in why things in sunny places get painted white. If the roof were black, it would have been at least 30 degrees warmer up there and significantly less comfortable inside the cathedral. The contrast between the crumbling facade of the cathedral (it was still beautiful, in a rustic way) and the gleaming roof was also interesting. It is pristine like nothing else we’ll experience in Central America — certainly the antithesis of the nearby (and scarringly sordid) folklore museum. At $9 per adult, this is expensive for Nicaragua, but to me it was definitely worth it.
Crew at La Mariposa. There’s a real diversity here — people young and old, from various countries of origin.
Dinners at La Mariposa School: I think I’ll comment on the food at Mariposa elsewhere, but the environment at the school reached is high point, in my opinion, at dinner time. It was quiet and calm once the teachers and day students went home. Those staying at the hotel gathered at the sound of a bell and enjoyed conversation (almost entirely in English), a $2 Tona or two, and whatever food they served up on a given night. There was no troublesome plowing through menus and ordering. We got what we got, and at it all up. I did, at least. Usually, I ate some of the girls’ leftovers, too. If the Spanish classes, excursions and interactions with staff helped us get used to Central American culture, the dinners helped us acclimate to the physical environment, eating outside in shorts and t-shirts in February was a palpable, if slightly guilty, pleasure. The warm silky breezes and “tranquilo” atmosphere helped soothe any culture shock we experienced during the day. We happily noted the absolute absence of mosquitoes. The compound’s dogs and cats were always close by, often enjoying the attention of a pet-starved child. These dinners also allowed the girls to display a previously hidden talent: conversing with adults. This is something they tend to do at home only under extreme duress. Without other children to talk to, ZN+L chatted happily with our fellow adult guests, many of them grandparents who clearly delighted in talking to young people. Jen and I enjoyed multiple compliments about them.
Picture the UNH Outdoor Pool with a tarzan swing.
Ojos de Agua: I thought swimming in this natural spring-fed pool was enjoyable until Jen commented on its similarity to the now-destroyed UNH Outdoor Pool. She was onto something. There were surely differences: palm trees, a slack line and tarzan rope, waiters carrying trays of food (we never found out how to order any). The similarities became more obvious as I looked for them. The clear, bluish-tinted water was cool and comfortable. The sides of the pool were concrete and stone (and a little muddy at points). People were there to swim and socialize and relax. It should be noted that this attraction featured the best mix of tourist and locals of any place we’ve visited in Central America. We even saw a car with a Costa Rican license plate in the parking lot. One of the workers at our hotel told Jen that the Ojos de Agua is one of his favorite places in the world. My favorite part, though, was that I felt a little like a time traveler, able to skip back into the near past to snatch one more afternoon of an experience that I never thought I’d get to have again. Anyone missing the UNH pool can find solace that it still exists, in spirit at least, on Ometepe.
I’ve already written about this extensively, but it remains a highlight in my memory. I think part of the appeal was that we had no idea what to expect. If we had arranged (and paid for) this tour ourselves, we would have known what to expect every step of the way. But since this was done through La Mariposa, the extent of our preparation was signing up on the whiteboard. And as it turned out, it was one fabulous experience after another: the steam pouring from the active crater, the beautiful sunset from the highest point in the park, the awe-inspiring spectacle of thousands of bats issuing forth for the night, the cool walk deep into the mountain through a lava tube. It was a magical evening.
Our hotel on Ometepe (La Omaja) has to be one of the best places in the world to watch the sunset. Located in the lower slopes of a volcano, it features an open-air restaurant (with great mojitos), fronted by an infinity pool and hot tub, with Lake Nicaragua stretching away in the distance. To the right is the dramatic cone of the Volcan Conception, rising 1,600 meters above the lake. Behind the restaurant, Volcan Maderas rises in green waves.
It was the latter that we’d hiked that day, and it was an extreme challenge to us. Having left the hotel at 7:30 am, we staggered back in at 5:30, just in time for the nightly display. Sinking our exhausted bodies into the warm hot tub as the sky glowed with every color of the rainbow was an exquisite pleasure. Later we would eat enormous dinners poolside, then return to the hot tub as the colors faded and thousands of brilliant stars (far more than we have ever seen at home) emerged above our heads.
Though we loved our time at La Miraflor cloud forest, Granada presented a welcome contrast – hot, sunny, full of people and life. In the late afternoon, the glare of the mid-day sun would soften, and cool breezes from the lake seemed to blow away the day’s heat in the blink of an eye. Around the corner from our hotel was a pedestrian thoroughfare with a grand old church at each end. The street was lined with colorful buildings housing bars, restaurants, and shops, with café tables scattered across the cobblestones outside. The air was filled with laughter and the sounds of roving musicians playing traditional music (and thrilled to serenade you for a $1 tip). For another $1 we could enjoy a mojito made with fresh mint, lime and Nicaraguan rum. It felt graceful and old-fashioned, like something out of a Hemingway novel.
Part way through our trip, we hiked to a giant strangler fig in the cool, misty cloud forest of La Miraflor. The fig had killed the tree it had lived on long ago, and was completely hollow in the center. We ducked through an opening in the interlocking vines and into the cave–like space inside. It was cool and damp and filled with shafts of sunlight from holes in the web of tendrils. I grabbed a vine and started to climb. The fig’s bark felt cool and rough beneath my fingers, and the different strands were the perfect size for me to wrap my hands around. When I looked up and down, the fig was like a vertical tunnel made of intricate patterns and designs. I could see my family standing in the small circle of packed earth far below. I felt as if I could keep climbing all the way up to the tree’s topmost branches high above. I peeked out of the small windows made by the fig’s stems and waved to my dad standing on the ground outside the tree. When I climbed down, I wanted to do it again.
In the city of Granada, Mom booked us a tour of a chocolate museum, but not just any tour. This was a workshop where we got to see how chocolate is made and make some ourselves. This was the perfect tour for me because I love both chocolate and cooking. It was really cool to see how one of my favorite foods is made. Central American chocolate is different from the chocolate we have in the U.S., which is made from beans grown in Africa. It has a darker, richer flavor. I liked it. Even the plain roasted Central American beans taste good. We got to try them after roasting them ourselves over an open fire and peeling them by hand. Then, we ground them using a mortar and pestle. The whole beans seemed dry, but once they were ground, the oily cocoa butter seemed to appear from nowhere. After that, we used the cocoa paste to make two chocolate drinks. The first was made by the Aztecs. It had chili peppers in it. It was much too spicy for me! I liked the second though. It was made by the Spanish and tasted like hot chocolate. At the end, we got pre-churned chocolate to make our own bars. We could put anything we wanted in them. I put coffee, sea salt, almonds, and nibs (pieces of roasted cocoa beans) in mine.
My whole family learned to surf in Jiquilillo, a town on the beach. We all took surfing lessons. I loved surfing and rented a board for the next couple of days. I surfed a lot during those days, but one time stood out. Jiquilillo had beautiful sunsets and we would go to the beach to watch them, but I wanted to keep surfing. So I surfed during the sunset. It was amazing. When you watch a sunset over water from land, the glows orange from the reflected sun. While I surfed, that color was all around me. It was like surfing on the sun.
It was my favorite because I really missed riding and I had a lot of fun because I got to canter a lot. The ride went through the countryside, a village, and some woods. I rode the same horse but I can’t remember his name. He was a brown and white paint.
It was my second favorite thing because the gelato tasted really good. It also reminded me of Italy. The flavors were also very unique. It was special because there isn’t much gelato in Nicaragua.
Zip-lining was my third favorite thing because it was really fun. I was a little scared at first, but by the end I wasn’t. It was special because it was a really unique and singular experience. We also got to fly with a guide, go upside down, and swing on a long rope.
On our last day at La Mariposa, we had a party with great music in Spanish, dancing and piñata breaking. Zoe, Nadia and I made the piñatas with our teachers and went into town to buy candy for them. I felt happy, excited and good. I liked the taste of the candy and the smell of the fresh air. It was special to me having my friends from La Mariposa all gathered around me.
I felt as light as a feather. I was zip-lining at Volcan Mombacho. It was special because I felt a good sense of accomplishment. I tried going upside down, and the guy was jiggling my legs as we zip-lined.
The volcano hike was hiking up a volcano to see the sun set, then hiking to see two caves. I felt very good. It was nice to walk in to a nice cool cave. It was one of the best experiences of my life because I got to see so many cool things.
After this I didn’t walk anywhere at night without my headlamp.
Our second-to-last day in Nicaragua, we found a tarantula in our hotel room. The next day, we found a scorpion attempting to hitch a ride in Lanie’s backpack. Apparently we were no longer welcome in Nicaragua, so it’s just as well that we headed to the border the next day.
Look who wants to come home with us.
Costa Rica logistics have already proven to be far more complicated, for some reason. For the few days preceding our travels, I was spending much of my time hunched over the computer, trying to figure out where we were going to go and how we were going to get there. In the end, we were forced to conclude that we’d need to rent a car for a while.
Our travel day looked like this:
9 am ferry from Ometepe to the mainland
Taxi ride to the border (we’d been planning to take a taxi to the bus terminal and the bus to the border, but for $25 we decided to take the shortcut)
Walk across the no-man’s-land border area, which involved having our passports checked three times by Nicaragua and three times by Costa Rica.
Bus to Liberia, Costa Rica.
Taxi to the Liberia airport where we picked up our rental car. (In shock from the price of the cab ($40! For 9 km! Nicaragua, we miss you already), we go the cheaper route and do not get an SUV. We will regret this decision later.)
Drive for a couple of hours to the place I’d managed to rent last-minute for the night, from airbnb. It was not exactly a palace, and was in the middle of nowhere, but the drive was beautiful.
Drive back out to the nearest town to stock up on groceries, since we have a kitchen.
Drive back to the house because Bob forgot his wallet.
Drive back to the store again and back to the house again. (For the most part we haven’t lost/forgotten things too much on this trip. But this house proved to be some kind of Bermuda-triangle type location with a magnetic pull over our belongings. This will also come up again later.)
I guess the novelty of restaurants really has worn off, because the kids were thrilled to shop for groceries and cook dinner. Bob and I were instructed to sit down and mostly stay out of the way while they worked together to whip up pasta with chorizo, garlic, olive oil, tomatoes, and cheese. (Afterwards, they fought bitterly for about four hours about who would sleep where. But it was nice while it lasted.)
In the middle of the night, Bob and I were abruptly awakened by a very loud, very strange sound. It sounded like someone saying, “HHHHHHahhhhh” in this raspy voice, and must have been right outside the window. (It was so loud, we initially thought it was inside the house.) Bob asked the caretakers here about it the next day, and it turns out we heard an ocelot! (They called it a “tigrillo”.)
Being more aware of the road conditions, we decided we were too far to attempt our original plan of spending a day in Rincon de la Vieja National Park. Instead, we went to a nearby resort that featured hot springs, mud baths, and pools, plus hiking along a beautiful canyon in the forest, with a warm thermal river running through the middle.
It was a very fancy place (though bizarrely, as it was even more in the middle of nowhere) with fluffy white towels and deferential waiters. However, the price for a day’s admission seemed exorbitant. We elected, therefore, to forgo add-ons like zip-lining and white-water tubing. It was very pleasant soaking in the hot river in the middle of the woods, and took the last of the soreness out of our muscles from our previous hike.
Dinner brought another misadventure. We thought we were buying salt in the grocery store, when we saw a packet of white crystals labeled, “Sal ingleterre”. Nadia put some into her signature guacamole, then grimaced as she tasted it. We quickly determined that whatever it was that we’d bought, it was not edible (Epsom salts, maybe?) It was horribly wrenching for us to throw away that big bowl of otherwise perfect guacamole. (Luckily there was another bowl that was untainted.)
As we packed up and headed out the next day, the Bermuda triangle effect struck again. About 20 minutes into our journey, Bob asked, “Did you take the water bottles out of the fridge?” Nope, even though I’d checked the place about 20 times, we’d forgotten all our water and bottles. Back we went, down the rough dirt road, to the amusement of the caretakers. On the road again! Except, about 15 minutes later, Nadia: “I don’t remember packing up my kindle!” After a check of the bags, AGAIN we headed back. This last time, Bob told them, “Anything else we left here is yours.”
…or at least, they looked us over, raised their eyebrows, and smiled condescendingly when we said we were going to try to hike the Volcan Madera on Ometepe Island.
I actually thought they were probably right. We had read and heard a lot about how hard the hike was — 9 km one way, much of it straight up. But we figured we’d give it a shot and maybe at least get to one of the viewpoints partway up. So we hired our guide, ordered sandwiches from our hotel, filled up all available water bottles, and headed out at 7:30 the next morning.
Petroglyph on the mountain
Ometepe is a figure-eight shaped island composed entirely of two volcanoes — one active, one inactive. The active one, Concepcion, is a steep, smooth brown cone, rising dramatically from the lake like a child’s drawing of a volcano. Madera is slightly smaller and more irregular, covered with trees and vegetation. We thought we were attempting the easier of the two, but our guide disabused us of this notion. “No, that one is longer, but less hard. You walk the whole way. This one…” Here he mimed climbing vertically with hands and feet, a look of great exertion on his face.
Undeterred, we set off through the already hot sun. Adding insult to injury is that our hotel is on the slopes of Volcan Madera, but in order to get to the trail we had to descend the long, steep driveway — only to climb back up on the trail about a quarter mile down the road.
The previous day, we had cleverly stocked up on small candies to distribute as bribes when the going got tough. The kids began asking for them about half a kilometer in, but we managed to hold off for two or three. The first half of the hike was not easy — it was pretty steeply uphill, and we were all huffing and puffing — but we were still walking upright. A couple of hours in we weren’t hot anymore; we’d entered the cloud forest and a damp wind made us chilly.
We had expected this hike to be long. We’d expected it to be strenuous. What we’d failed to foresee — and what no one had warned us about — is that hiking in a perpetual cloud forest means mud. As we ascended, the ground got ever more wet and slippery, at the same time that it grew ever more steep. Soon we needed to use our hands to grab roots and pull us up the slippery inclines. Did I mention that we were hiking in Keen sandals? Soon we were covered in wet mud, squelching along with every step.
At this point Bob and I began to fixate on an unpleasant prospect: getting back down. We were afraid it would be just too treacherous, especially with our legs growing more tired by the minute. Bob talked to the guide, who suggested a good turn-around spot about half an hour distant, and we resolved to give up our attempt on the top.
Well, 3/5 of the family resolved this. When we eventually reached the spot in question, Zoe and Lanie were extremely determined to go on. A couple of hikers from our hotel passed us on their way back from the summit, and said it was only another 45 minutes or so. This convinced Nadia that we should try as well. Our guide, impassive the whole day, said it was up to us — so in a moment of weakness, we agreed to go for it.
Our guide (who, by the way, was 68 years old and had done this hike for the past 7 days running) shepherds Lanie to the summit ridge.
At this point the really difficult part began — at least for Bob and I. The kids were now in their element, because scrambling up the almost vertical inclines was easier and more fun for them than plodding up hills on foot. They were ahead of us with the guide, who, now that we’d committed, clearly wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. (We kept hearing his voice ahead: “Keep going.” Resting was not permitted.)
And half an hour later, muscles aching and soaked with mud, we made it. And we were rewarded for our efforts. Usually the summit of the mountain is in a permanent cloud, and hikers who complete the arduous journey get rewarded with only a view of swirling white. But our day was crystal clear (according to our guide, the first clear day in at least four weeks). We were able to peer down into the crater and see the hidden lake within it, and look down the other side and see the two perfect circular coastlines of the island, Volcan Concepcion looming between them and Lake Nicaragua stretching away into the distance beyond.
Going down was as bad as we’d feared. Lanie, who had shown truly superhuman strength in making it the whole way up, had a very hard time getting back down once the adrenaline of the ascent had left her. The rest of us weren’t feeling so great either. Unlike most hikes, the descent was the worst part of this one, and seemed truly intermnable.
By the time we’d gotten back to the hotel (this involved going back UP the steep hill, which nearly finished me off) I was definitely at the end of my strength, which made me further marvel at the kids’ accomplishment. Our first stop had to be at the outdoor shower outside the pool, where we discovered that the mud was more tenacious than we’d hoped. Days, and several showers, later, I still don’t think we’re 100% clean. And I’m pretty certain our shoes will never be the same.
But after an outdoor shower, followed by an indoor shower, we had the reward we’d been thinking about all the way down — sinking into the hot tub as the sun set brilliantly behind the lake. Eventually we were able to drag ourselves out and consume large dinners before staggering off to bed.
Here’s the thing about the Sea Latch Inn. There were a couple of places in the vicinity with Vacancy signs, but we chose to go in there because they advertised “Free Hot Breakfast”. Little did we know that this would be provided at the Lobster Cove, the very restaurant we’d gone to for lunch the day before, three quarters of a mile south of the hotel. I’m not sure if you all can appreciate the degree to which Bob and I did not want to start walking south in the morning. But breakfast awaited, so southward we went, and in the end I was halfway to my 10,000 step goal on the fitbit before we even officially set off for the day.
It was a gorgeous morning on Long Sands, but high tide was approaching, which led to the funny sight of a huge stretch of empty beach, with big crowds of people clustered together on the very upper fringe. (Not much of Long Sands is around at high tide.) We started our walk down on the beach, and caught a little of a surfing competition as we went by.
If we thought Long Sands was crowded, that was nothing to Short Sands, on the other side of the peninsula. It also seems to have a high-tide problem, and every inch of sand seemed to be covered in humanity. Bob and I were getting pretty warm by this time, so we found a spare bit of rocks on which to put our bags and took a quick dip in the water. By the time we got out, the tide was threatening that spot, too.
The end of the walk really shone today, though. After coming into Ogunquit, we took a side street and footbridge into incredibly scenic (and again, incredibly crowded and hard-to-park-in) Perkins Cove. We took a break to have drinks at a restaurant overlooking the Atlantic (and oddly, staffed entirely with young Eastern European women. We would later find this to be the case with many places in Ogunquit.)
The last mile was down the stunning Marginal Way footpath, which winds along the rocky coastline. And the best part was that we knew exactly where we were going. After our debacle trying to find a hotel in York, we decided to book ahead in Ogunquit — and through some kind of tripadvisor loophole were able to book the last available room in a B&B that, like almost everywhere, typically has a two-night minimum. It’s right in the heart of town and is lovely, with a porch swing looking out over a broad lawn and the busy (oh, yes, it’s incredibly crowded here as well) streets (and also a nice lady who gave us Band-aids for our blisters). We sat there at the end of the day, eating our ice cream, after a pleasant stroll around town and dinner at a gourmet pizza & craft beer restaurant.
With the kids all away at camp for two weeks (!), Bob and I had three criteria for what we wanted to do: (1) not too expensive, and (2) fairly close to home in case we needed to do an emergency camp pickup, and (3) something that we couldn’t easily do with the kids along.
n our last night we decided to have a roving dinner of all the delicious-looking street food that we’ve seen being cooked up, and it did not disappoint. Pura vida!
been right outside the window. (It was so loud, we initially thought it was inside the house.) Bob asked the caretakers here about it the next day, and it turns out we heard an ocelot! (They called it a “tigrillo”.)
