By 7:30am I’m already sweating through my jersey, and we haven’t even started biking yet. Miguel leads the way, picking through the maelstrom of the early morning market, our loaded bikes in tow, strategically avoiding the tortilla ladies–he knows my addiction will get the better part of me and I’ll order 10 on the spot, forcing us to awkwardly schlep them in our pockets as we ride. No fresh, warm snacks today, but it’s alright. Our compass is set for the south, to the warm waters of the Pacific at a beach called Popoyo, where we’ll begin our scouting trip across Nicaragua, piecing together the best rides, most welcoming places to stay, and of course, the most interesting cast of local characters to meet.
Culturally a world apart, yet geographically just a bumpy bus ride to the east, the Caribbean side of Nicaragua has historically been treated as the red-headed step-child of the Sandinista government. It seems strange that there would be such a divide, given the surface-level similarities in their struggle for solidarity during the hellish years of the revolution, and then the somehow even more barbaric years of the US-sponsored counter-revolution. Fueled by our infinite supply of curiosity and need for getting way the hell out there, Miguel and I decided it was time to find out what his creole countrymen were all about.
Miguel is rare as en educated, bilingual young man in Nicaragua. Unfortunately, however, he’s just like everyone else in his demographic in terms of available work opportunities, which is to say, they simply don’t exist. He, like everyone else, has a side hustle. In his case, it’s fresh ceviche, delivered by bike. If you want to get really good at cycling in tight spaces, ride your bike through one of the most obliterated capital cities in Latin America with a time-sensitive food product in your trailer. The earthquake that crucified Managua in 1972 left it completely unnavigable by modern standards. So when I started asking around for a bike mechanic who can really ride, I knew I found the right guy. When he’s not slinging ceviche or working at a call center, he’s my recruited adventure buddy, and arguably the biggest bike nerd in Nicaragua, constantly hunting for conversion kits, impossible-to-get components, and coming up with in-house frame hacks to make space for downhill disc rotors (it turns out that bombing down the sides of volcanoes requires some serious stopping power).
After a slab of fresh fish and a bottle of my beloved agua con gas y limon, we mounted up and started riding away from incredible surfing waves towards one of the largest lakes in the western hemisphere. Quiet, unpaved roads took us through tiny villages and herds of cattle (literally, right through them), meandering along the countryside en route to Ometepe Island, one of the most magical places in Central America. It’s an island formed by two conical volcanoes that spring up in the middle of Lake Nicaragua, in complete defiance of the rules of geology.
My research suggested that there was a great little lodge tucked up against the southern slope of the Maderas volcano on the other side of the island–a relatively long but beautiful twilight ride away. There’s something special about riding on dirt roads as the sun is setting and local farmers are coming in after a hot day of working in their plantain fields. With views of the larger Concepcion volcano from the pool, cold beer in hand, we knew we had to take groups here in the future. It was too good to miss.
Public transportation in Nicaragua is not comfortable. I would know, because I’ve been carless since I moved here about two years ago, and good God almighty, have I taken my fair share of elbow-squeezed, sweaty-pits-in-your-face colectivos. Leaving the island on a ferry, especially after circumnavigating its diverse 80 kilometers, was a treat–its individual chairs like thrones. We had mapped out some really fun rides, found a crystal-clear swimming hole to take a dip in, and now it was time to venture north to the coffee-clad cloud forest region in the foothills of the headquarters of the revolutionary soldiers back in the ‘80s.
Once ravaged by war, this peaceful region is no longer dominated by the Contras, but by flowy doubletrack trails that wind through coffee plantations and rolling hills. Our hotel in Boaco served us a classic Nicaraguan breakfast: local coffee (dark as the old dictatorship), fried eggs, a small cube of salty cheese, and gallo pinto (the painfully-bad joke is that some days it’s rice and beans, while other days it’s… beans and rice!). It’s a light yet calorie-dense meal–great for riding. After overlooking the entire valley below from the balcony, we pedaled on.
The rest of our scouting journey took us through a handful of poor yet charming towns, as we descended towards the tropical flatlands of the Caribbean. Countless people asked us where we were going, and despite being completely baffled at the idea of riding across the country, they never failed to offer us fresh-squeezed juice (or the national favorite: sweet hibiscus tea) and a bed to sleep on–even their own.
Arriving at Pearl Lagoon, our final destination, was such a reward after a week and a half traveling by bike all the way from the Pacific to the Caribbean. The turquoise water was mesmerizing as I jotted down the final notes of route descriptions and contact info for all the helpful locals we met along the way. The coastline along there is absurdly beautiful, dotted with fishing villages–virtually the only industry here.
We heard English. We heard reggae music. We saw firsthand just how different this part of the country is, and we knew that we had put together a dynamic route. Exhausted but exhilarated, we made a toast to adventure, to living a life of continual exploration, before making the long way back to Managua, eager to do it all over again.
Britten is still looking for beta testers for this new trip (15% off). For more information, be sure to contact Britten at [email protected], and check out his website: revolucionrides.com.
2 Comments
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016
Just read this... all the year you can mountainbike at Guatemala...all the year and nationwide. Promise you won't regret.