Around The World In 80 Waves

From Masachapa I follow the brick road out of town looking to get to the breaks listed further east in my Stormrider guide.

As I drive along everybody points and waves because the Little Green Surf Machine is so unusual in this country. Everybody seems to love my car so I am all smiles in return. 

I head to the main road and then double back to the coast a few miles further on arriving at the fishing village of Cesares.

I was hoping to get in the water here too but there is no shape to the waves and I  am not at all tempted by the vista you see here. 

I stop briefly to take a pcture of the brightly coloured fishing boats that line the beach, but have already had one crap surf today so push on.

The map I have tells me there is a coast road towards Las Salinas where far better waves should be on offer. 

However this road and I use the term loosely quickly deteriorates into a dirt track.

I know I am far from help here and it is way too hot to be walking miles in the sun for help so I am cautiously plodding forward. This little bay was the closest that I saw to surf and I had to cross it twice on a stone path which had clearly been destroyed by the sea resulting in all kinds of sharp edges pointing upwards across which I nervously wobbled.

The road got even worse from there and after a few chats with locals I decided to cut my losses and head back. Reluctantly I pushed further down the coast taking the decision to arrive a day earlier than expected in San Juan del Sur near the border with Costa Rica

After my rubbish surf I take a stoll on the beach which is full of life from not long after dawn. There is an interesting perpective on the food chain in this fishing village which I will try to outline here.

The fishing boats land on the shore and are immediately mobbed by the locals who want the best fish.

The locals then take their fish to this stream running out to the sea, where they clean and gut the fish on the rocks.

This man was good enough to allow me to take a picture or two of him in action. It took him a minute at best to complete the task. 

All the unwanted guts, etc are then carried over to this oil drum rubbish bin where hundreds of vultures hang about waiting for the latest addition.

The scene reminds me of Hitchcock’s The Birds and I feel a tad uneasy approaching the area because the cliffs and trees just out of shot are also lined with the predators who I feel would be licking their lips if they had any as I walk up with my camera.

The actual pecking order is then completed by the gulls who wait in the space before the shore for any of the scraps left by either the vulture of the humans.

Time for breakfast I suppose!

I wake up early in the morning and see a small wave breaking right in front of the Hotel Summer so grab my board and jump in the water.

It is a gutless beach break, which is a foot and a half at best and I dont stay in long after catching a couple of crap rides.

There were no pictures in the water because there wouldn’t have been anything worth taking.

I took this picture of a rather funkily coloured lighthouse which overlooks the break later in the morning though.

However I am happy to be so quickly of the mark in Nicaragua.

Upon arriving in Nicaragua it is already getting dark so I put my foot down trying to get to the Montelimar Beach Resort which is where I intend to go surfing the folowing day.

It is still roasting hot and I am getting a bit hot under the collar because the locals are driving really aggressively behind me in pickups using spotlights and full beam headlights which are blinding me. I dont know if this is the reason for it but I miss my turning and end up up 50 miles off course in the capital Managua. i later find this map online and could have done with it because there are no street signs and it takes me an age to find my way out and back to the coast in the darkness.

Managua is sat on top of a staggering 11 seismic fault lines so I am not sorry I didn’t stick around. However the road to Montelimar which is made of bricks takes me an hour and I am shattered by the time I arrive at 9pm and then heartbroken because they want $170 for one night. I have to head on and even the very pretty female security guard whose tight outfit complete with firearm that has a particular charm cannot lift my sprits.

I spend another hour trying to find a place with wi-fi without any luck until I give in and opt for the Hotel Summer right on the becah in the nearby town of Masachapa, after swerving around all the drunks who are falling into the road on my way there.

I have been without internet for a few days so have some catching up to do.

I had a quick surf session at Las Flores before leaving, including a scary wipeout near the rocks, but was still on the road early. The road from El Salvador to Honduras was quick but unbelievably hot. It is ok when the car is moving but as soon as I stop I feel like I am melting. At one stage the thermometer in the car read 49C ! It didn’t drop below 40C all day and even then only once it had got dark. It was still over 30C at 10pm.

Both the borders I crosses were at bridges over rivers and there seems to be a substantial space of no man’s land at each one. This doesn’t help me much because at every border I am driving around looking like a lost soul trying to figure out which one of the shacks, if any, at a given place is an official building such as migration, aduona, the place where you get the car sprayed for some pesticide or other or just a checkpoint where they inspect paperwork before you are allowed to move on to the next bit of guesswork.

Apart from the usual hawkers, searching for a photocopier, etc it is relatively painless at both borders apart from the heat. However I did fall foul of the law upon arrival in Nicaragua, but before going further on this I have a confession to make. I have been having a few cigarettes ever since I was able to drink smoke and gamble in Las Vegas. I know it is bad for me but it has been alleviating some of the boredom on the road, and I was enjoying a smoke upon successfully navigating the the El Salvador-Honduran border. At the final checkpoint a traffic policeman waved me in to the side of the road which I did without question. At this point he tells me that smoking is illegal in a car, which is clearly bullshit, and he is just trying to exact a bribe. I am quite hot and bothered already and not in the mood so play him at his own game feigning terror and asking if it is a serious offence and then if we must go to the police station all the while blowing smoke in his face whilst still behind the wheel. He laps this up thinking he has me on the hook, that is until in perfect Spanish I say ok if you drive there I will follow. Mild panic spreads across his face and he pauses afor a moment before deciding that it is not in fact an offence and tells me I can go. I do so grinning from ear to ear and chuffing away as I pull off.

Not much else to report apart from telling you that the road I travelled in Honduras resembled Swiss cheese because there were so many holes in it.

Nicaragua has a similar history to most of the countries in Central America. Dictatorships, natural disasters, American military involvement, etc.

As usual I will hugging the Pacific coast on my way through to Panama driving along the thin strip of land which separates the huge Lake Nicaragua from the ocean. 

As with Honduras I am sure there is much to see away from the west coast, but the clock is always ticking for me, so it will just have to wait for another time.

According to my Stormrider Surf Guide of the area, there should be plenty of waves to keeep me amused, and I’m looking forward to adding another country to the list which I will be surfing on this world tour.

Watch this space for details.

I have sorted out a new phone number for the next few weeks.

If you need to call or text me please use +502-5249-5779 until further notice.