Telica Take 2

At some point here, you will inevitably be asked: El Hoyo or Telica? Before I had been asked, I knew my answer; El Hoyo. Because it’s the most beautiful place on earth. As of a few days ago nobody would ask me though, because I hadn’t really gotten the Telica experience. I hadn’t camped in the Garden of Eden, hadn’t seen the glowing lava at night, hadn’t climbed the ridge for sunrise…. Now I finally have. My resume is already uneven: One Telica and three El Hoyos, and I have another El Hoyo tomorrow. And another one two days later. I guess Rebecca and Andrew took me seriously when I gave them my opinion.

It was me, Marie, and Julia. I was at the back again, because for all intents and purposes it was my first time on Telica. The hike felt new with clients, and the heavy packs made a huge difference; when we arrived at camp I couldn’t imagine continuing on the rest of the way down. We took longer breaks, and collected firewood, which made the steep ascent to the crater much more difficult. I already have a lot of pictures of the crater, so I got bored this time and switched my camera to “dramatic setting”, which made for some crazy shots.

Unfortunately there were no wild horses in camp that day. It’s possible that the first couple hikers scared them off and by the time I got there they had all scrammed (I had to hang around with the lagging crater enthusiasts who couldn’t get enough of staring down into the pit… every time a client posed for a picture next to the crater all I saw was a stupid tourist with a goofy, clueless smile across his face standing in a precarious position seconds away from falling to their death and me being fired for negligence. All I could really do though was say “you guys ready to head down yet? No jumping pictures!”)

As we were setting up tents, I realized that for the THIRD time in a row, I had carried, or someone had carried an extra tent, I was pretty pissed off because I had originally intended to sleep out just in my sleeping bag since I have such a warm bag, so an extra tent was just way too excessive. At first I refused to even set it up, but then Marie and Julia convinced me when they said there were snakes at the campsite. So I got a tent all to myself.

We chilled out at the campsite for a bit and tossed around a Frisbee while a dramatic, deep gray cumulous cloud descended over Telica’s crater. It looked like a slow motion eruption and everyone was momentarily concerned but then lapsed back into their camp leisure activities. Dinner was put on and it started to get pretty cold. This was the first trip that I hadn’t brought my leggings, and it was the first trip that I needed them. So I just sat really, really close to the fire.

 

The clients were pretty cool, and good to talk to. We were 12 people from 9 different countries. I spent a lot of the walk just discussing and debating differences in culture, educational systems, government, food, lifestyles, immigrant communities, etc. among our wide array of homelands.

 

Once it got dark, we made our second climb up the crater, to see the lava glow. You can’t see the red color in he daylight, so this was my first real lava experience It really is bright bright red! A mound of bubbling scarlet popping and searing in the very deepest point of the pit, as bright as a car’s taillights.

The lava- not easy to get a great shot of this.

I didn’t stay at the edge long. The crater is one hundred times scarier at night, not because of the visibly tangible heat the volcanic activity, but because you can’t see the edge in the dark. We all had headlamps, but it’s very easy to trudge up the hill staring only at your feet, unable to benefit from long range vision, and therefore it’s very hard to tell how close to the edge you are until you suddenly see it only a couple of feet away. I couldn’t help thinking how incredible easy it would be to just not notice you had gotten to the edge and topple right over.

Instead of lying at the edge and gazing at the bright glow below like every single client (stress!), I lied on my back 10 feet away from the edge and gazed at the bright glow of the grand display for stars. The sky was saturated with them- it was possibly the starriest sky I’ve ever seen. Towards the horizon, the heavens faded into a pollutions smeared haze and then the lights of Managua twinkled as a second bed of stars.

Back at the campsite, we made s’mores for desert and like ussula I surprised myself by gobbling down about 5 and then finishing off another packet of chocolate cookies (they’re graham cracker and chocolate, the perfect quick s’more cookie). The wind had been picking up all evening, and by the time we went to bed the tents were flapping hard. At this point I was tired and relieved that I had set up my tent and had the whole thing to myself. Despite the obnoxious clamor of the wind, I fell deeply asleep in an instant and slept like a baby until- “Emma! Emma!” I blinked blearily out of a luscious dream, wrapped deliciously in my too warm sleeping bag for once because of the cooler than average temperatures.

A tremendous splitting crack startled me completely awake and I realized that the wind had intensified throughout the night and was now practically ripping my tent apart with poles thwacking and fabric slapping fiercely in all directions. Aware now that the person calling my name was real and not a part of my dream, I sluggishly unzipped the tent door to see two of our clients looking wildly desperate and wind bashed.

“Our tent was destroyed! Can we sleep with you?!” “Uh, ok, yeah!” I mumbled and in a daze moved all the crap I had spread out over the spacious interior. Their tent was destroyed? I was too sleepy to be very curious and just a little pissed off by the disturbance. I spent the rest of the night squeezed up against the flapping and bashing side of the tent, two bodies tossing and turning next to me… thank god I brought the extra tent. For much of the rest of the night sweet slumber eluded me.

The next morning I saw the remains of our nice Marmot tent: a pole had somehow pierced through the roof of the tent and the rain fly, another pole had snapped in half, and the entire structure was a sad deformed tipi like clump. While Julia started the fire for breakfast, Marie and I took the clients up the ridge for sunrise. It was a bit cloudy and nowhere near as spectacular as the sun coming up behind Momotombo on El Hoyo, but it was made dramatically artistic by plumes of rolling smoky clouds which seemed to float along the ground.

The way back down the mountain was more or less a long day of slogging through dust, with a few exciting moments: First a cow decided to join us on the trail for a bit, and then a horse decided to join us for the last half hour of the hike, breaking through multiple barbwire fences in order to stick with the group.

Bigfoot and Surfing

In the last month, my days have been filled to the brim with anything and everything to do with Quetzaltrekkers- hiking volcanoes, working office shift, doing finances, preparing trips, etc etc etc. It’s a challenge to squeeze in other activities when on the half day you have off, all you want to do is lie around and relax for once, but I have made time to go surfing! Ever since I found out that the west coast of Nicaragua is a surfing destination, I planned to go. Here’s how it that became a reality.

We are all sick of rice and beans. If you want to eat cheap, that’s what there is, but sometimes you have to treat yourself a little to change things up. The other night a group of us volunteers dressed up and went to the Pure Earth Café, a vegetarian restaurant connected to Bigfoot Hostel. This was a bold move- According to certain sources, Bigfoot and Quetzaltrekkers have an animosity that goes back for “generations” of Quetzaltrekkers volunteers. I believe it began when Bigfoot “invented” volcano boarding, and Quetzaltrekkers “stole” the idea. So you could say we’re competition. The critical difference is that Bigfoot workers are paid, and Quetzaltrekkers is a nonprofit- a fact that the volunteers are more than ready to rub in the faces of Bigfoot employees. Another distinction is that when Bigfoot goes volcano boarding, they go to all extremes. Boarders are heartily encouraged to try to break the speed record, the ridiculously high and improbable number of 82 km/hr. Volcano boarding is the hostel’s focus. For Quetzaltrekkers, Volcano Boarding is just a so-so day trip, and we would all 100% rather lead 2 day camping trips, so we roll our eyes at their aggressively competitive attitude. Most importantly, we wear NEON GREEN boarding suits and Bigfoot’s are ORANGE.

But volcano boarding is just the surface; the animosity runs much deeper. Philip, Bigfoot’s owner, has serious issues with the Quetzaltrekkers board of directors. The board of directors, who I know nothing of, are permanent while the volunteers are very temporary- even our directors stay only a year. This in turn means that we don’t stay long enough to really understand Leon and the relationships between its residents and characters, including the relationship between our board of directors and Bigfoot. (For example, Phil has been living here for 7 years). Phil refuses to explain the history of the rivalries because we are here so briefly, wouldn’t understand, and needn’t be burdened.

In truth, Bigfoot is a really cool place and the people who work there and stay there are for the most part interesting, nice and very chill. At dinner, I wore Marie’s dress since I brought absolutely nothing in the realm of “nice” or “cute”. After a delicious broccoli fettuccini, Marie and I wandered over to the bar to chat with Phil (he’s also head over heels in love with Marie). Most of the volunteers at Quetzaltrekkers have an inherited and baseless grudge against Bigfoot, which Marie and I think is ridiculous. We decided to attempt to make peace, and have become sort of the liaisons between the two organizations. A chat with Phil became a heated, but not unfriendly, discussion during which we demanded to know why we can’t all be friends?! Finally, we made the decision to demonstrate our willingness to cooperate through giving them some business. Along with a restaurant and touring company, Bigfoot also has a surf camp called “Rise Up Surf.” Marie and I decided to sign up for 25 dollar surf lessons for the next day.

So we went surfing! We had been told to meet at 9 at Bigfoot, so I set my alarm for 8 and was just crawling out of bed when the doorbell rang. I ignored it- everyone has a key for god’s sake and it couldn’t be a client. Then it rang again. And again. I finally gave up and opened the door in my pajamas- it was Eddie, Bigfoot’s newest employee, looking frustrated and impatient.

“Are you ready? We have to go right now!” What? I told him we were supposed to meet at 9. “No no, 8 o clock- we’re gonna be late.” He told me to run and grab Marie. I told him 10 minutes. I frantically grabbed coffee and a bathing suit while shouting for Marie to wake up, and we ran out the door. Once we got to Bigfoot we immediately complained to Phil, who had sent Eddie, and in his smooth way he made ups understand that he just decided to change the time, and it’s all good, we’re here, there’s no problem, it’s totally chill, and we were like yeah, chill, no problem and forgot about it all.

The package we got for the day was actually a really good deal. 25 bucks for a 3 hours lesson, transportation (it’s a 45 minute drive), lunch, and board rental for the whole day. We had to be back at 5 for a meeting, but I’m sure they would have let us stay longer. It was me, Marie, and one other girl. When we got out of the van I instantly picked out our surfing instructor, Ben. He is the exact image of the typical surfer dude- tan and buff with longish wavy bleached blond hair, a couple tattoos, and a superchill aura. We all told him our names but we were all addressed as “dude.”

The house that Bigfoot rents for the surf camp is awesome- I actually like it a lot better than Quetzalplaya. It’s more rustic and feels more lived-in and youthful. The best part is a round straw roof gazebo-like structure on the beach, complete with a bar, kitchen, a dining table and a smaller hangout table with chairs. Surfboards lean up against the gnarled driftwood gate like out of a surfing postcard.

We donned rash guards and sunscreen, picked out boards, and hit the beach right away. I’ve been told it’s the standard to spend an hour or so practicing movements on land before trying out the waves, but we probably spent about 5 minutes dry- just enough to understand where on the big, softer long boards to lie and how to strap them to our ankles. (Long boards are the ideal beginner boards because of their stability- short boards are the next step up). Running into the water, I realized I had no idea how to even get started, wasn’t even sure whether to face towards or away from the waves. Well, you face away from them, I was told after making a fool of myself by lying down backwards. I floated around and observed for a couple minutes and then took a shot at the “white surf”, the last stage of a wave’s life when it rolls in a mass of foam into beach before being sucked back in by the ocean. This part of the wave is perfect for beginners because it’s gentle, close to the beach, and the waves are more or less predictable at that point.

It was difficult nonetheless. After an hour or so of practice, I was able to stand up a couple times, and that was super fun. Ben paddled around between me, Marie and Other Girl, offering tips and helping us find the right spot on a wave to begin paddling and stand up. Timing is essential in surfing. Stand up too early and you won’t have picked up enough speed, so the board will sink or tip. Stand up too late and you will fall forward and crash in a floating somersault.

We took a snack break of fresh fruit and spent a couple more hours in the water before having lunch. I had graduated to the next level, where you place yourself directly before the wave’s crest, just as it’s swelling and gathering momentum. The idea is to stand up right away and ride down the face, all the way to the beach. It’s hard. I kept standing up too late, but a couple times that worked out because I was able to enjoy the adrenalin rush of soaring down a crashing wave on my belly, and then stand up once it had dwindled into a calmer and more horizontal slide. The steeper waves were especially exciting because you ride down head first like a waterslide and go quite fast.

Lunch was made and served by the landlord’s housekeeper, so it was “comida tipica de Nicaragua”; rice, beans, chicken, and fried plantains. Of course, we had to take a little siesta after lunch and had some fun with the pet baby raccoon.

After lunch, a creeping cloud cover had turned the sea into a steel gray sheet of rippling aluminum. Flocks of white birds darted across the sun and soared and dove above the water. The tide had come in substantially, so the waves were crashing right on the sand, maybe 50 feet closer than before. It was obvious right away that it was going to be a lot more difficult, and we all struggled.

After an hour or so the others retreated to the gazebo. I had been sitting very far out, waiting for the perfect wave for like half an hour. It was becoming apparent that the perfect wave wasn’t coming any time soon, let alone any waves at all. I was just way too far out at sea. Determined to make the most of my surfing day and my 25 dollars, I paddled closer in to the beach and took a couple rough rides way too close to the beach, and kept crashing full force into the sand and getting beat up. The last straw came when I somersaulted under the board and it crashed into my head. The boards aren’t very hard or heavy but it hurt a little, and catching a glimpse of the others lounging around to Pink Floyd and sipping on fruit drinks, my more reasonable side made the executive decision to call it a day.

Momotombo Adventure!

When you work for free as a volcano guide, it better be because you love to hike volcanoes. Last Monday, us guides saw our dream come true on the weekly schedule: a one day Guides-Only hike up Momotombo, and everyone was invited. No clients! No stress! Friends!

It was a truly amazing day. Momotombo is in Janet’s words “the Perfect Volcano”- a picturesque symmetrical cone complete with the quintessential plume of dark gray smoke trailing in a swirling puff 24 hours a day. All the more photo-worthy is Momotombo’s location with its toe poking into the gossamer waters of Lake Managua, and Momotombito just a short boatride away like an afterthought to its neighboring giant. From the campsite at El Hoyo, you see the sun rise out from behind Momotombo’s deep blue silhouette—This sight itself is enough to instill a craving for climbing the mountain.

Trips up Momotombo with clients are infrequent because of the climb’s difficulty. It’s not too physically difficult; it’s the psychological aspect that deters much of our clientele. The majority of the ascent is a steep uphill climb of very loose and sketchy black gravel, much like Cerro Negro’s Northwestern flank that we board down. The first two thirds are similar to climbing a sand dune- reminiscent of my adventures on the Kelso dunes with the Johnstons- but then the last push to the summit is pretty scary. The slope is steep enough to require hands but most of the rock that appears to be solid is easily dislodged, ruling out any possibilities of typical rock climbing, On my way up that section, I got excited about scrambling using my hands and wandered to the left where there was more solid rock I could grasp. I was having a lot of fun until our director warned me to stick to the right because I was too close to a big cliff. I didn’t see the cliff until the way down, and it was very impressive. Black, orange and white striations sweep across a vast amphitheater-like semicircle. It’s a gash right out of the side of the mountain, probably formed by collapsing rock.

Momotombo is devoid of vegetation, and therefore shade less and exposed to the sun the entire duration of the climb. In order to spend the maximum amount of time out of the mid day heat, we got up at 4:30 and left at 5:30 for the 80 minute van ride to our take off point. We made a group breakfast of eggs and toast in the predawn darkness and I packed my bag with the jittery excitement that comes with going on an exciting trip really early in the morning. During the car ride I was the only one who didn’t fall asleep, because I was really excited and had brought along a glass of ice coffee (I have been completely converted into an ice coffee drinker here. It makes so much more sense, especially since we only have instant coffee- no waiting on water to boil, no sweating over a hot drink when you could be drinking something refreshing with ice in it!)

In the van at 5:30

 Anyways, I spent the van ride watching the sun rise and the dirt road slide under our wheels out of the big back window, deep in thought and completely at peace with the world. We passed by almost only horse-and-buggies sharing the crude road with us and flocks of white birds burst forth from trees and across the rosy pastel sky. We arrived at the entrance of the protected area that surrounds Momotombo at around 7 and began hiking at around 7:30.

Getting the group together- that's Momotombo in the background.

The climb ahead.

The entire way up Momotombo, Lake Managua glitters below you as if you’re on an island. Momotombito peeks up like a turtle shell, a deep blue spot between the light blue sea and sky. My favorite part of the view though, was the new perspective of the Maribios cordillera. El Hoyo with its characteristic sinkhole stood bold and solid in front, with Asososca and Lake Asososca a bit to its left and Las Pilas flowing off behind it. Beyond we could just make out the crater of Telica, and San Cristobal at the very rear- the Maribios chain’s tallest volcano. I’m beginning to not only be able to recognize individual volcanoes, but also to feel a bit of a kinship to them. Like old friends. I have climbed them, seen them from a million different angles, slept at their craters, and I spend all day describing them to potential clients.

The lake on the left is Managua. In the middleish is Asososca but you can't see the water or lago de Asososca from here. To its right is the rest of the cordillera. 

Lightning shaped cloud, and can you see El Hoyo's sinkhole?

The second piece of our climb was a traverse around the crumbling side to reach climbable face. The slope was purely gravel and there was an unusually fierce wind, even for December. I was plodding along, hunkering down because of the wind, slipping periodically, Marie and Annika a few paces in front of me and Rebecca and Aymie a few paces behind. Suddenly there was a fierce sting across my face, and we all screamed and dropped down. An unbelievable gust had picked up and was shooting buckets of gravel at high speed into our faces and exposed arms and legs. I turned so my backpack faced against the wind but still felt as if the tiny pebbles were boring holes into my skin; I expected to be bloody all over. I was terrified that I would be blown down the side of the mountain or that a large rock would crush my skull. After a minute or so of terror and yelling, the gust blew out and we stood up again, completely shaken. We moved on quickly and a minute or so later were hit again, even more violently. After that attack we really tried to book it across to the safety of the wind sheltered break spot, where Andrew and Nate were already waiting.

“Run! Run! Go go go!” You could hear the fear in our voices that we would get hit again and never make it across. Once we got to the tree, we saw Andrew lounging in the branches, obviously unaffected by the wind. We told him the story and all laughed about it. Ten or so minutes later, Julia and a few others showed up and reported that they had also completely missed out on our little epic because they had been around the curve protected from the wind.

We moved on to our next stop, a very windy ledge with a spectacular view of the lake and Momotombito. As per usual Andrew had ran a head and by the time we reached the spot he was calmly posing on a rock at the edge of the cliff, model-like. It was a great spot for a photo, so I took a turn scrambling up it. After seeing Andrew’s tranquil demeanor as he had stood there I wasn’t ready for how windy the rock was. I didn’t even trust myself to stand completely straight for the picture, afraid of being blown off.

Calm?

No, wiiiiindy!

Group Picture!

We took a group picture and then dropped down to a spot that at least wasn’t wracked by gale force winds for a snack. Then came the sketchy climb to the crater. We left our backpacks at the snack spot- we would return there for lunch- and started making our way up. Since I climbed ahead, I luckily wasn’t at risk of falling rocks, which is the major concern. There was a little inlet about two thirds of the way up where Andrew and I waited for the others, and from my perch I witnessed two near deaths. First a gigantic rock somehow got dislodged and started bouncing down the slope, picking up speed and bouncing higher and higher, headed straight for Julia. We all watched unable to breathe as she scampered first right and then left, unsure of what to do as the rick zigzagged and ricocheted haphazardly in her direction. In two seconds that felt like a minute, it reached her, she jumped up, and it somehow made it BETWEEN her legs- she was safe. But not without a mark. The rock completely ripped off her right pant leg, and left a huge gash down her shin. Once she reached the top, she announced “I never, ever, ever want to guide this volcano.”

The second scare thankfully didn’t result in injury- another rock was flying straight towards Xilma, a Nica volunteer, and she successfully dodged it like a cat, completely untouched. We were all really relieved to finally make it to the summit. About 100 feet away from the top, neon yellow streaks of sulfur began to appear in the rocks, and at the peak we suddenly found ourselves in an insane landscape of bright yellow, white and red sulfurs, clays and calcium deposits, in the form of ridges, pits and hoodoo like formations. My camera died right before we summited, which is a shame because it is unsure that I will climb Momotombo again as a guide (just because of the trip’s infrequency. I would absolutely love to climb it again.)

We posed for some pictures, enjoyed the view, and then headed down for lunch. The descent was 100% easier- all you have to do is bounce and slide. It took us a fraction of the time to get to our lunch spot, and then I ravenously devoured my entire salami  baguette, which I had been 100% positive I would never be able to finish. We chilled a bit, lazy from full stomachs and feeling accomplished, and then slid and ran down the rest of the slope to the van. We got back a lot alter than we expected, and I naively attempted to wash the gravel out of my hair, gave up, and managed to pass out early while everyone else was still blasting music and prepping for the next day’s hikes.

Our lunch spot.