Birthed by the Volcano

Colin and I have crossed the half-way mark of our visit to Nicaragua. Time has flown by and slowly, but surely our Spanish is improving. At least I think so. I often think of learning Spanish as bailing water on a sinking ship. As soon as I discover a "leak" or gap in my knowledge of grammar, I rush to remedy the situation, only to discover another "hole" in my vocabulary or pronunciation, etc. Mostly learning Spanish is a gradual wearing down of my resistance to speaking, aka my resistance to making a mistake. These strange, new words en espanol roll around my mouth like beach pebbles, cold and awkward. Gradually, I wear them smooth and they become easier to articulate.

Our adventure will take us in a new direction this week as we begin our volunteer assignment and homestay experience. More on both of those soon. For now, here is a quick recap of some of the things we've been up to since last I wrote.

Wreathed in clouds, Volcan Mombacho fades in and out of our awareness, suddenly appearing from the haze for a time, only to fade back into a shadow. Our adventure to this sky island begins in the back of a pick-up truck gunning up an almost vertical slope of pavers. The important part of that story is that the truck did indeed make it to the summit. From the top, nature trails wind through the forested slopes above the craters, eventually meandering to look outs of the isletas of Grandada.

Birthed by Mombacho, these hundreds of isletas share Lake Nicaragua with a prehistoric looking "alligator fish" and the world's only freshwater sharks. Like those first adventurous sharks that wandered inland by river, conquering Europeans also used this route to wrestle with each other over control of Granada and its islands. Today, these islands house primarily the very rich and internationals. During our boat tour, we visited some of the islands other inhabitants including dosing vampire bats and a colony of monkeys tame enough to eat from your hand. Apparently, they have been relocated to an island to reproduce, but all of their tails have been cut to prevent them from swinging on the nearby electrical wires. Strange, right? On a happier note, swallows darted through the air, coots hopped across the lily pads, and egrets watched us pensively. A kingfisher even whizzed by before we took a dip.

As befitting the land of volcanos, where natural disasters give rise to islands and lakes, Granada is a city of rebirth. After colonization by the Spanish, European pirates repeatedly attacked the city and when the American, William Walker tried, and failed, to take control of Central America in the mid-19th century, his general burnt Granada to the ground, leaving behind a sign - "here was Granada." Streaked with burns, the white stone of the old cathedral still stands as a reminder of old Granada. All around this monotone palette bursts the colorful buildings of modern Granada.

We found a few pleasant surprises tucked away in the city. After the cathedral we were refreshed by a pineapple smoothie at a cafe staffed entirely by the deaf and mute. It also doubled as a hammock shop, home to possibly one of the biggest hammocks in Central America. We also stumbled across "Penny Lane." Most importantly, I found an iced Americano - a real find down here!

Face cloud.

 

Dolphin flower.

 

A mess of wires at Mombacho from the days before it was a reserve.

 

The group on the trail with our guide.

At el mirador.

 

Cloud forest.

 

Sun-dappled leaves.

Bromeliads.

View of the isletas de Granada.

Nice hike around the craters!

 

Wind tunnel along the trail.

Spotted by Colin.

Great view!

 

Good Colin shot.

 

Another shot together because it's Colin's most favorite thing.

 

En route to Granada.

Lanes are really only a suggestion here.

Colin at the old cathedral in Granada.

Wylie posing as our "adopted son"

Cathedral with scorch marks.

Colin winding his way up to a view.

 

One view.

 

Street view.

Bellevue.

 

Brochure from the awesome cafe run by the deaf and mute.

 

Colin on the giant hammock!

 

A mandatory carriage shot.

 

Penny lane.

 

Very detailed Nicaraguan painting from the museum.

 

Stopped for lunch at the garden cafe.

 

Boat tour.

 

Wildlife.

 

On the rickety-est diving board.

 

Monkey island.

 

 

Mombacho in the clouds.

 

Nests.

 

Silhouettes of swallows swarming.

 

Time for a dip - hope the sharks give me a wide berth!

 

 

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You Can Never Visit the Same Masaya Twice...

As it's name may suggest, Volcan Masaya National Park is a landscape defined by a volcano. The surrounding area provides a cross-section of time, a time lapse of how over centuries each eruption has given way to new life. The first colonizers arrive by air - these lichens begin the transformation of black rock lunar terrain to verdant forest. As these lichens loosen the rock and release nutrients, seeds begin to gain a foothold. As larger plants gain a foothold, they provide the shade and water retention to nurture the next generation. Eventually, birds and bats and other animals join the cycle.

Smoke and sulphur obscure the depths of the active crater. A breeze unfurls the soft grey folds revealing layers of time in the sloping rock along the crater's lip. These glimpses are fleeting and always the bottom remains shrouded, its expanse unknown. Above, a cross, placed by the Spanish to keep the devil from crossing out of this "gate of hell," stands watch - a shadow on the smoke.

From a nearby ledge we watch a magenta sun escape the clouds to melt into the smoky night. After the sun sets, we visit the bats who have made their homes in the old lava tunnels stretching under the earth. A current of bats brushes past our faces. They fly too fast for our eyes to resolve into normal motion, like stop animation.

We work our away into the dark of the tunnel. Our flashlights sweep the late-risers who take flight. We stop in a high-ceilinged chamber. Our guide indicates a chin in the rock, then lips, a nose, and eyes - a face staring down from the rock on a room where some believe indigenous people deliberated on whom would be sacrificed to the volcano. However, I've heard the evidence of this is suspect. Roots from the ceiling grasp at empty air. Along the wall, the gossamer skeleton of a bat begins its slow progression into mineralized stone.

We escape the tunnel, trading it for an empty sky. No stars glean through the smoke, but Masaya city glimmers beyond the ridge. We return to the crater, peering though the sulfur trying to catch the red glow of lava. The smoke writhes and unravels changing the dimensions of the crater. Always changing, it seems you can never see the same Masaya twice.

 

A painting of the volcano in the park's museum.

The crossed was placed by this "gate to hell" by the Spanish to keep the devil from escaping.

Swathed in fumes, this Masaya volcano crater changes from moment to moment. You can never see the same crater twice.

Time to strike a pose. Also, evidence that Lori is super cool!

One of Colin's many beautiful photos!

Heading up to see the volcano at sunset.

"The last sunset" - nice work Colin!

Group shot!

Entrance to the bat caves.

Roots reach deep into the lava tunnel seeking nutrients from the volcanic rock.

Safety first means helmets in the cave.

The city in the shadow of the volcano.

 

 

 

2nd Trip to Masaya:

We returned to Masaya by day to visit the forest so often forgotten by visitors to the volcano. Paulette, the founder of La Mariposa, and our amazingly knowledgeable park guide made sure we got the most out of the experience. We saw lizards, birds, butterflies, a white-faced monkey, and of course more plants than I can name, many worthy of a Dr. Seuss book. It was a lovely walk, worth adding to the Mariposa program. I think the plants are best done justice by Colin's fantastic photos below. Time to start calling him the plant paparazzi!

 

Paulette looks out over the park.

A fire set by someone encroaching on park land. Rangers head to the rescue!

Paulette indicating a plant.

Colin captures a young lizard - apparently these guys can get pretty huge.

This tree is sometimes jokingly called the tourist tree for its red and peeling skin.

An "olive" tree, but not the kind you and I know and love.

Colin is kind of the plant paparazzi. Many more photos follow in tribute to his skill.

I think these might have been nicknamed something like "huevos de gringo." Make of that what you will.

Part of a petal or seed or some such.

Kind of reminds me of the plant in Avatar.

The seeds in this plant make a local cure for snake bites.

Perfect camo!

Another beauty shot.

Heading out of the shrubby forest into the high grass.

Paulette has watched hummingbirds carefully remove these seeds, discarding the majority, and selecting only their favorites to line their nests.

 

Shifts in time and space: from grassland to shrub forest in the shadow of the volcano.

 

Colin's Edit: updated old photos with edited versions

 

 

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