Volcano Surfing

Wow. In a 'career' of doing insane things, this one is right up there near the top of the list. On 15 September, CNN published a list of the 50 biggest adrenalin rushes to try before you die. Flying a jet fitter was number one, and volcano surfing got the number two spot.

After a bumpy ride up to the base of the lava flow, we had to hike the rest of the way to the top. Loaded with overalls, goggles and water; this starts out as a deceptively simple climb. We are joined by two Americans and an English guy for the trip, all in their early 20s and who have travelled here to Nicaragua to try this new sport.

Climbing on the volcano is challenging, as every footstep is uncertain with the shale slipping underfoot. We are to trek up the east face of the volcano before surfing back down then west face. There is method in this madness, as there was a prevailing wind blowing when the volcano last erupted in 1999. This means that the lava flow on one face cooled more quickly than the other, leaving rocks that vary in size between baseballs and a family sedan. In fact, if you scrape away about four inches of rock, then the lower layers are still uncomfortably warm from the last eruption more than a decade ago.











The slope increases steadily until it is impossible to walk straight up any longer and we are required to walk back and forth across the face in a zig zag pattern to keep ascending. Everyone is very conscious that a slip at this height will mean a long roll down (at best) or an injury on the sharp rocks below.



Up above the half way mark, the weather turns quite suddenly and we are enveloped in alternating clouds of mist then sulfur. The rain is incessant and cold, as is the wind. Carrying the boards becomes increasingly dangerous as the wind catches then occasionally and attempts to wrench them from our hands, The mountain guide stops to remind us to carry them horizontally against our hip, and not to fight the wind. If the mountain really wants the board, let her have it, better the board than the person attached to it.









After a lengthy climb, we reached the lip of the crater and rested again to take in the view. On one side, the valley stretches away into the distance glimpsed occasionally when the mist clears. On the other side is the crater itself, dropping endlessly. The wind at this height is ferocious, and we are leaned into it trying to keep our footing.


The guide tells us that this is not the top. We must now walk around the edge of the crater to get to a safe slope for surfing. This means walking on the lip of the crater, a 1m wide surface that runs around the very edge. With near hurricane force winds that shift direction constantly, everyone is on edge. Safety standards or equipment simply do not exist here. If you fall, you stay there.

When we finally reach the launch area, the rain hurts. It is almost horizontal, and stings like needles. Climbing into the bright orange overalls provides a little comfort, but these are soon drenched as well. Goggles are necessary to protect against flying debris, and there is only a few minutes for a final briefing.

The question on everyone's mind is "where is the slope". In these conditions it is impossible to see more than a few meters ahead and we are conscious that somewhere nearby is a very long and fast way down.

The guide points out from the lip, and all we can see is an incredibly steep downward slope that ends in a shroud of mist. There is no 'horizon' and nothing to give a sense of direction or bearing He shows us how to sit at the very back of the board, and how to haul up on the rope to keep the leading edge out of the schist. He also cautions us to resist the instinct to put out our hands as the speed increases. The rock is very sharp and will cut like glass at speed. Someone is silly enough to ask how to stop, and the guide smiles and says that will happen automatically when you reach the bottom. There is no steering, there are no brakes, this is just a case of sit down and hang on.



We sit on the board and edge closer to the precipice, then suck in a lungful of breath and push off. The acceleration is slow at first, not at all what we expect. This soon changes as the slope increases, and the pace of the boards picks up dramatically. This is not smooth like skiing. The surface is hard, and small rocks fly all around, stinging hands and face as we shoot down the slope. Keeping the leading edge of the board up is a challenge, as all the forces of nature are trying to dig it in. This is a noisy sport, with the rock surface making a grating sound underrated the board, and the wind howling from all directions.



Too soon we are slowing for the bottom of the volcano. After such an extended climb, the entire trip down takes a matter of minutes. All are down safely, and there are high fives all around before climbing in the back of an all terrain truck for the trip back around the base of the volcano.

Location:Cerro Negro, Nicaragua

Floods in CA

Click to view the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMApChhtvj4&feature=youtube_gdata_player.

We need to cross back into El Salvador some time tomorrow. Sitting down later today to plan precisely how to do this. It's a bit of a challenge, as the developed countries have much better access to information (you probably know more about the floods than we do).

Local road conditions are unpredictable, and every man and his dog will be on the Pan American. The plan at this stage is be head up through Chinandega and Somotillo to cross briefly back through Honduras and then into El Salvador towards the end of the day. We need to be in the middle of El Salvador (San Salvador) by the 21st, so some careful planning is needed to make sure we get there in time.

Much of the rain has already fallen and kicked off the landslides, so perhaps better to stay high and use the mountain roads rather than down on the flat where there is certain to be flooding. Matthias is asking locals regularly, and will chart a route for us.

Location:Leon, Nicaragua

Random Pics

Location:Leon, Nicaragua

No gold medal for Gymnast Gary

The morning after the night before is easier for some than others in Granada.



We motored out from Granada this morning in high spirits - clear skies, smooth tarmac, and a short day planned to get to Leon. It's funny how quickly plans change.

As we travelled up the side of the first mountain in the Jinoteppe area, a heavy mist settled in that reduced visibility to less than 20 meters at times. This is a little disconcerting on a motorcycle, particularly given the Central American penchant for overtaking at any time. At least the Nicaraguans
are marginally more sane than the Hondurans in this respect, but it was still very slow and cautious progress.

Once over the top, the mist changed into a cold and driving rain that soaked all the gear we had spent the past two days drying. Cold rivulets of water manage to find their way past the heat-sealed seams of wet weather riding suits to create soggy patches in the most uncomfortable places. Is there any such thing as truly weatherproof wet weather gear? Boots quickly filled with water again, and the offered that lovely 'feet immersed in tray of ice cubes' experience.

After an hour or so, the weather cleared as quickly as it had arrived, and gave us our first clear view of what was to come. By mid morning, the road had deteriorated to a shocking state. It was still nominally paved, but in name only. The entire surface was pockmarked with deep craters, washaways were frequent, and it was impassable to cars.


The potholes are difficult to judge, as the muddy water gives no indication of their depth. You start by bracing for the worst, but quickly get complacent and hit them at speed in a spray of water and gravel. The danger in this is that every now and then you barrel into a hole that is deeper than expected and has a steep exit edge. This sends a jolt of pain up through the wrists and elbows that reminds you to take it easy. Managing a speed of about 80 was the best we could do and still maintain a degree of safety.


Approaching washaways like the one above is always fraught with trepidation because there is no real way of knowing what lies underneath. It's simply not practical to get off and inspect every one, so we have nominated Matthias as the sacrificial goat. He belts across with (hopefully) enough forward momentum to carry him through if something collapses.
The underside of these washaways look alike this:


At times the bitumen surface disappeared altogether leaving a surface of slippery and deeply rutted mud. It was in one of these sections that we had our first 'off' for the trip. Gary came unseated at the tail end of a deeply rutted section without enough forward momentum to carry him through. He performed some brief handlebar gymnastics before being deposited unceremoniously on his arse in the mud, closely followed by the bike. Degree of difficulty: 8, execution: 0 - no gold medal for Gary. No real injuries sustained to bike or rider, other than a fatal ego wound.





We arrived in Leon as a bedraggled mess, and squelched our way into the foyer of the hotel Austria. Gary remained outside briefly to attach gaffer tape to his ripped pants. There was some suggestion of using the same tape on his ego as well.

Leon is a pretty little city of about 150,000 people that sits about 100km from the pacific coast and the same distance from the E Salvador border. We had a clean up at the hotel (first warm shower in more than a week- bliss) before heading out to explore.

Grand central plaza


Streetside commerce


Read the sign at the front. Che would be so proud ...


Streetside barber at work



Bike touring, American style. Someone has watched a few too many episodes of Long Way Round. We have discovered that you really don't need any more than a tank bag full of gear to sustain yourself for an almost indefinite period on the road. I have no idea what is in all of this kit, but I am damn sure that the bike isn't much fun to ride anymore.


One of the best things about touring on a bike (lightly) is that you distill your entire sphere of responsibility down into just that one bike and bag. Everything has a purpose (preferably several) and there is nothing excess to requirements. Gear is compartmentalized for quick and easy packing and access. From fully unpacked to 'strapped on and ready to go' takes less than 5 minutes.

I think some people try to 'pack' for an entire trip and for every eventuality. This takes away some of the necessity for 'roadside innovation' but it also reduces that sense of immersion in the local environment, and it puts a sense of distance between the rider and the 'locals'. To some extent, we WANT to be able to rely on interaction with the people around us and their goodwill. We WANT to stop and ask about road conditions rather than receive a satellite map update. We WANT to scrounge for food in local stall rather than have all of our own cooking gear and ration lacks. It sometimes seems that the more technology support we have, the less we really engage in the things we have travelled half way across the world to see and do.

Rant over ... back to the blog. Big day planned tomorrow as we intend to have a go at volcano surfing up near the top of Cerro Negro. Should be a hoot.

Location:Leon, Nicaragua

Random photo with Snoopy

Location:Granada

Having a wheely great time

Score: Corona 1 Ty 0. This morning was NOT pretty.

A quick breakfast this morning before swinging protesting backsides over the bikes for the quick trip to the nearby active volcano. This was our first seat on the bike in q day or so, and our shoulder muscles had just begun to recover before we were ready to abuse them again.

The volcano that overshadows Grenada is still an active volcano, although it hasn't actually emitted any lava for nearly 400 years. The approach road starts in a fertile valley, but quickly climbs through the green layer into the black metamorphic rock that is cooled lava. This rock looks like a lunar landscape with almost no vegetation, and striking shapes where the lava covered hills, trees, and any other landform a few centuries ago. As you climb still further the rock gives way to a fine rock piste that is brittle to touch.


The crater edge is actually accessible via a paved parking area that allows vehicle to park within meters of the edge. Conspicuous warning signs request that drivers park facing towards he exit in case of eruption - but we figured it was a pretty low level of risk given the lack of molten action since the 1600s.


The first thing that you notice as you arrive is the sulfur. It infuses the air, and makes it difficult to breath. Th atmosphere feels very close, and enormous plumes of gas rise from the crater. Words cannot describe how other-wordily this environment is, and it looks unable to sustain any form of life. Puffs and dense clouds of gas gush up at intervals, the rocks push out as if shoved from below, and a fine rock powder coats everything.


We opted to walk the additional couple of hundred steep steps up to view directly down into the open crater, and within minutes were wracked with deep coughing and our noses were streaming. Clearly the body does not like the sulfur gases much either. From the top, the view is very eerie, and we did not spend more than a few moments there is it is not a pleasant place to be at all. We snapped a few pictures that show the stunning landscape, and then headed back down followed by our coughs and splutters.







The steady rain in the carpark kept us under shelter for a ,short while before a break in the cloud cover emerged. No one had anticipated the rain, and we had left wet weather gear back in Granada. A decision was taken to try to run before the clouds, and make it to Managua. Despite being listed as the capital of Nicaragua, Managua is unprepossessing and in places downright dangerous. Even Matthias' local guidebook says that (quote) "it is theoretically possible to walk a few blocks unaccompanied in Managua without being mugged or robbed, but all valuables must be hidden from sight, walk only very short distances, and hail a cab if at all possible". We actually got a bit lost leaving the city because Matthias has not been into Managua since 1997, and we found ourselves riding through some of the poorer barrios. I was pleased not to stop, and even more pleases when we found ourselves on the main strip out of town. For the record: Managua has nothing at all to offer residents let alone tourists unless you are really into crime and violence.

By the time we had navigated out of Managua it was past midday, and we decided to head back towards another volcano that overlooks Granada. This one is well and truly extinct and the crater is now a lake approximately a kilometer in diameter. With a string of rustic restaurants clinging to the lip of the crater, it was a delightful place to spend a few hours enjoying the local cuisine. Steak a la piemente con arroz was the go (peppered steak with rice), served on a sizzling hot plate with onions and BANANA. Can't begin to explain the sizzling banana, but somehow the whole dish worked really well. Four full meals and drinks with a view unmatched anywhere else in the world comes with a $44 price tag in Nica.





Enroute back to the hotel, moto madness seized us and a vigorous session of downhill riding around the volcano, was punctuated by wheel stands and all manner of other silliness. It's been a while since we have ridden bikes this way, and damn it was fun. The KLR stands on it's tail with not much encouragement, and Ty learned the folly of stopping in a mud patch directly behind my bike. Gary was a little too savvy to let Ty 'pass the message on' a few moments later.





Tomorrow we plan to leave Granada (regretfully) and bead towards Leon. Why? Surfing, of course. We intend to have a go at surfing, the latest craze in Nicaragua. This is not like surfing as we know it - ie: with water. These crazy Nicas have invented volcano surfing, which nvolves a special board that can be used to surf down the 50 degree slope of the volcano using the rock powder as a form of snow. The mountain near Leon was the same one used by a French cyclist a few years ago to set the world pushbike speed record; 172kph (before his frame broke, youch, see the YouTube videos). Being an adrenalin sports junkie, Gary is in his element. I am sure we won't be going anywhere remotely near that sort of speed, but it sounds like an absolute hoot.

Massage at Salon Pure, dinner somewhere on the Calzado, then bed.

Location:Managua et al

R&R - Nica Style

This was the day of rest that we really needed at this stage in the tour. And what better place to spend it that in the lovely Nicaraguan city of Granada. We woke early and headed out to enjoy una cafe con leche y zugar whilst sitting outside one of the many post-colonial sidewalk cafes. With a full breakfast and coffee finished for just under 40 cordoba (about $1.80) we headed off the explore the city.

With no other western faces evident in the city at all, it was amusing to bump into Kerry, a native Canadian who had recently made the bold decision to leave family and friends behind in Vancouver to retire in Central America. She was in the process of signing a long term lease on a property n Granada, and planning to live there for the majority of the year. She epitomized the Ulysses Club motto of 'growing old disgracefully', having ridden a large motorcycle from Vancouver to Nova Scotia over her 60th birthday, and then deciding to be living in Nicaragua before she turned 70 later this year. What started as a passing nod in the street ended up as coffee and conversation for a number of hours in a nearby cafe,

One of the delicious features of Granada is knowing that behind every door grill lies a different shaded courtyard and living quarters. The homes in Granada have a different perspective on security and design, focusing on protecting the external walls of the property but leaving homes open and airy. This typically means a 3-sided structure that is open to the elements on the inside edges. Rooms have 3 walls, and the remaining 'wall' is actually open to the courtyard.







They also take a different approach to strata living, although this style of residence is not very common. Where is does exist, the kitchen and laundry are actually large communal areas, and then people have their own private quarters. It is a very social and noisy lifestyle, but lots of fun.

Heading back to the parija, we decided to take advantage of a special deal offered by the hotel on a massage at a nearby salon. For the equivalent of $23, they offer a one hour massage and a lunch at the nearby restaurant. We were initially a bit skeptical about this deal, as it is quite expensive for central American standards. We were certainly not disappointed though, as we were treated to hot stone massage, then deep tissue prodding to relieve those aching shoulder muscles. The lunch was served in a secluded courtyard that encourages guests to relax in a series of nearby hammocks whilst the order is prepared. I could get seriously used to this sort of pre-dinner ritual.

The afternoon was spent wandering through local food markets and looking at the different produce on offer. Many of the fruits are difficult to recognize, even if we do have them in Australia, because the soil is so fertile here and all of the colours are incredibly vibrant.

It was about this time that Ty disappeared...

We detoured enroute back to the hotel to have a quick game of two up with some local kids in the park, then stopped at a small outside bar for a drink or two. This was Gary's first foray into Mojitos. He knocked them back like cokes (cola cola, not the 'other' central american coke) without realizing their potency. With quite a few of these under his belt, it wasn't long before he was feeling no pain.









There wasn't much left of the day, so we opted for a quick nanna-nap then went n search of Ty. No luck. We had pre-dinner drinks nearby, then went in search of Ty. No luck. Giving up on the old boy, we decided to leave a message with the hotel reception and head out to dinner.

As we walked up the main promenade looking for a suitable restaurant, who should we spot but the missing person himself. Ty was propped outside a sidewalk bar (and I do mean propped) with two new coronas opening in front of him. His eyes were literally spinning in his head, and he had lost count of the beer tally. He figured at about 6 an hour over the past 4 hours, that added up to ... lost the rest in slurring. There was no way we could tempt him off the bar stool to dinner, so we agreed to get him (carry him) back after dinner.

Dinner at the Dario in Grenada is a grand affair, with glass top tables that have intricate patterns made from coffee beans underneath. The humidor has a selection of some of the finest Cuban cigars (urrgghh) and the cellar is well stocked. Opting for the pollo con jalapeño was not my smartest move. I had figured that the jalapeños could be moved aside to make a nice and lightly spiced chicken dish. When it arrived, there was not a jalapeño in sight, so I tucked in with gusto. Within minutes I realized that the chilli's were crushed into a fine powder that was a component of the creamy sauce. Even through my pain, I managed to offer Gary a mouthful to help him 'share' the pleasure.



After eating we are heading out to join the party. Nicaraguans really know how to let their hair down, and it's a real party town. That's NOT me in the white trousers, we are the crazy gringos who wiggle like epileptics on the edge with no discernible sense of rhythm (compared to these guys).



It's going to be a tough gig to haul out of bed tomorrow as the spell checker is working overtime on this blog post. The iPad keyboard is tricky enough without being inebriated (try and spell inebriated correctly when you are pissed as a cricket). ...

Off to the volcano tomorrow. First time any of us have seen a live one, whoo hoo.

Location:Grenada, Nicaragua