This is the final installment of my adventure travel story. I hiked Cosiguina Volcano near Potosí in Chinandega, Nicaragua. Read Part 2 here.
Saturday, 4:45 AM
Again, I was waking up before dawn, but this time, I’d be hiking a Volcano instead of running down a hill to catch a taxi. Rafael, the hotel owner, woke up with us and gave us cups of hot, instant coffee, which I appreciated. Just about the same 1% of people who use air-conditioning are the same kind of people who are wealthy enough to brew their coffee. “Ramon’s here, but take your time”, Rafael said. Jen and I would be hiking up the volcano with our private guide for just $25 split between the two of us.
We finished our coffees and met Ramon outside. He was a skinny, dark-skinned man who must’ve been in his 70’s. He had a grey baseball cap and grey mustache, and held a machete by the blade, not the handle. “Hola Ramon, mucho gusto”(“Hi Ramon, Nice to meet you”), I said, while giving him a firm handshake. He had a deep voice, a kind smile, and he didn’t say much. He wore a yellow button-down shirt, khaki pants, and worn-out Sperry boat shoes.
We wasted no time and walked briskly into the darkness. Our feet sank into the sandy road that winded through endless farmlands. The crisp air smelled of manure. It reminded me of my early runs in Moses Lake, Washington. Roosters crowed to announce the daybreak. As soon as the sun peeked out, the temperature began to climb. We walked quickly, is if we could beat the sun to the summit. We climbed further up past meadows and into the jungle. I turned around to see the Gulf of Fonseca and it’s shrimp farms behind me. Leaves covered the trees to make dinosaur-looking figures. It felt like we were in a Dr. Seuss book, except I’m sure Dr. Seuss never wrote about cowpies. It was hard to avoid them. I must have stepped into at least five. Throughout most of the three hour hike, cows and bulls walked behind, next to, and in front of us. They triggered bad memories for Jen, who was nearly attacked by a bull on a hike in Spain.
Ramon’s determined walk intimidated the cows-they moved right out of his way. We followed our quiet, fearless guide through the jungle, occasionally pausing so that he could hack an obstructing branch with his machete.
Finally, we reached the summit of the Cosiguina Volcano. I was sweaty and hot, but the peaceful, cool breeze at the top made it all worth it. It blew against my skin, rewarding me for going through all the trouble of endless bus rides, stepping in cow pies, and nearly tripping into jellyfish infested waters.
It was quiet.
All we could hear was the wind and crickets. The view of the crater lake, along with the Salvadorian and Honduran volcanoes in behind it, was my favorite view to this day. Behind us was the Pacific Ocean and the San Cristóbal Volcano (Nicaragua’s tallest volcano), sitting majestically with its crown of clouds.
Clouds drifted past, casting dark, clumpy shadows within the green crater. The crater lake’s blue water sparkled. I hoped that if I stared at it long enough, that I could be teleported to the bottom for a swim. “Ramon, have you been to the bottom?” I asked. “Cómo No? I’ve rappelled down the crater. It took four hours to descend, and six to climb back up. Half of the water is cold, and the other is hot. It’s 90 meters deep”, he replied. I wanted to rappel down it.
I wanted to do so many things: to jump in, to walk along the edge of the crater to see two starkly different views to my left and to my right. I wanted to climb every volcano I saw.
A rush of both gratitude and relief overcame me. Hiking Cosiguina reminded me that there was a world beyond Nicaragua. After having been here for 15 months and only having gone home once, it sometimes feels as if I will never leave. I do miss traveling to other countries and I miss my friends, but I was so happy I’d stayed long enough to see this amazing sight. The volcanoes jutting out of the water reminded me of the view from Seattle’s Pike Place Market of the mountains jutting out of Pudget Sound. If my body hadn’t already been partially dehydrated form the hike, then my eyes probably would have watered. It all felt so recognizable yet starkly new.
My shoes crunched on the black pumice as I climbed on rock to open my can of tuna. I mixed it with lime-flavored mayonnaise and dipped my crackers into the can. This meal reminded me of my family’s hikes around Lake Wenatchee. My mom would even bring hot sauce and limes to squeeze on top. I was happy that I’d brought something other than just granola. While Jen and Ramon spoke, I thought of how I was in the right place at the right time. Getting up before dawn two days in a row was more than worth it. Cosiguina was one of those places, like the Red Shrine in Kyoto, or the Père Lachaise cemetery, where I’d visit Edith Piaf in Paris, where I felt an indescribable sense of belonging. These are my “spots”. I felt this way here because I enjoyed being able to see so many things at once. Hiking also brought back wonderful memories for me.
Have you ever been somewhere new and felt an instant connection to it? Share in the comments.
Featured image by @Handerson406.