Ometepe (the place of two hills) is the largest island on a fresh water lake in the world. And is basically one volcano joined by a thin strip of land with a second cone created by the rock it spewed out.
Mestlitepe is one of the indigenous names and translates as 'the mountain that menstruates'. Her last blood letting was 1957.
Its fertile soil supports citrus, bananas, coffee, water melons, cotton and tobacco.
Its sweltering in the port town on arrival so we get a Chinese motorbike taxi to the peninsular for some sunset swimming, this cheeky chappy hitches a ride.
We whiz by a blur of cobalt land and school kids wandering home dragging satchels, our faces turned into the wonderful breeze. Down a narrow track shaded with gnarly trees we squeeze by a herd of cattle being ushered by kids on bikes and reach our destination. A quiet spot scattered with palm roofed shelters and a little café. This odd volcanic sand peninsula snakes out into the lake and disappears in the distance where a family are in the water casting their nets.
The shallow water is a wonderful temperature, even warmer on the right side. We take a massive bath. Dave films me crawling out of the water like a first life form, and down at the point (where land finally becomes lake) we practice walking on water.
As the sun sets the swifts poor from the trees and head out onto the lake in their hundreds. They keep coming, filling the pink sky with tiny black dots.
I tell Dave about the American girl on the beach at sunset the night before. As the fiery globe touched the horizon she scrabbled with her camera shouting “HOLY CHEESE BALL!”
OK so theres only about 3 birds in this picture but HOLY CHEESE BALL!
Our taxi man awaits us, its great having a driver!
We only stay one night at the port as its too hot and theres nothing to do. We cant afford the extra for the air con to be switched on so have 6 showers each instead (well, they have lots of water). Then we accidentally lock ourselves out at breakfast and have to fish through the glass slats in the window until we hook the tacky plastic shelf and manage to tip it near enough to get the only key for the room. Theres no key cutters on the island and none in Rivas (the port on the mainland) so the landlord is pleased we hook it. Time for us to check out some more of the pointy island.
Heres some pictures of the port town…..
Heading out to the coast we arrive at the finca which is chilled, quiet, has hammock's and of course a beach.
There are stone tables in the shallows all around the island for gutting fish.
We laze and swim from the layered platforms of volcanic rock and check out the passing wildlife.
In the afternoon I manage to lock us out for a second time in one day; in a place with no locksmith, would you believe it?. We are aided with the break-in (frighteningly easy knife job) and endeavor walk round the coast. We have to do a fair amount of wading in the water to navigate some complex root systems.
We meet many types of storks, the occasional kingfisher and butterflies along the way.
and very occasionally the rare human.
Eventually we head inland and check out a tranquil lagoon and watch a guy fishing waist deep with a weighted net he tosses in a spiral onto the waters. Then we head back for a sunset paddle, and life is sweet.
Horses are herded back along the beach each evening by our kooky island palm clad Pier.
Out on this lake at sunset is Zentastic.
In the morning though, the finca turns into a chainsaw nightmare, yes indeed the petrol fueled bad boys are back. They are dismantling our hammock clad, palm frond roofed, lake side haven, time for a Sharpe exit, well ,manana, manana.
Another stroll takes us into a very dry thirsty wood in search of some monkeys we can hear. We don't find them and end up sandwiched between some shear cliffs and the lake. Nice view of the island and the second cone the first volcano built.
Stripy pregnant lizards scuttle through the crisp undergrowth and the majestic crowned Jays squawk warnings of our presence from the bulbous red and cream trees and cacti. Of course with all these birdie alerts we see no monkeys.
We see the locals using the stone water tables on the way back, and they ain't gutting fish but washing their smalls.
With limonadas and fruit salads and that fine warm breeze we watch the sun set and flocks of storks fly over the water and rise above the trees back down to the safety of the lagoon to roost.
Over dinner we watch 10 geckos feeding on the roof. Dave says its amazing they never fall off. Later a gecko falls off the ceiling of our room and lands on Dave's ruck sack with a small thud.
The next day we break camp and head to the smaller cone of the island. Insert ourselves onto a rammed local bus, alight and wait for a second with an annoying German girl wittering on about how dangerous Mexico City is, though she didn't have any problems herself of course! The 12 seater that appears has 20 people in it already but they are jolly and insistent there's plenty of room. Squeeze in we do, and with a baby resting on my arm and a child leaning on my back and the money takers leaning out of the open slide door, we are away.
Myriad is on the lakeside (of course) and surrounded by lush vegetation and chickens. Camp is busy with travelers and has a veggie café feel with lots of hand written notices up in coloured pens on wholemeal paper.
We'd run out of water 2 hours ago and waiting 40 Min's for a drink took the hippie edge off us somewhat.
The jays are here too but pleased to see us and our crumbs.
We hired kayaks for the the duration of our stay (for $15 each) and paddled out to monkey Island where some rescued Caputoo reside. We were warned not to get too close as the vicious buggers can jump on your boat and give you a nasty bite. They spot us and dash down the Pier and sit scratching their bellies willing us to get a little closer. As we paddle round the island it takes quite a bit of strength for the current not to push us into their clutches, and I get a proper soaking. The monkeys lolup through the undergrowth and run on their back legs following us round.
At the second Island we have to rescue an insipid looking hippie who swam over from the mainland with boyfriends. They were on the island feeding bananas to the monkeys, when they predictably turned nasty. She isn't a strong swimmer and her long waterlogged dreds make her position stupidly perilous. Dave pulls a muscle getting her back to shore, grrrrrr!
Back at summer camp we hang out with some travelers and meet a girl (Victoria, skin head in photo 2 above) who has been so bored of telling folk what she does at home that she'd amusingly taken to telling them she made dice.
We decide we cant be arsed to climb the cone and just get off on watching the colours change on it from different reclined positions.
27.4.08 (I think its a Sunday, so nice when it doesn't matter).
The scorpion was in our sink and Dave (without his specs on) thought it was some leaves and got very close to getting stung while brushing his teeth. The gardener came to save the day and nifftilly removed its sting with two sticks and let the poor thing go. Apparently if you get got your neck swells until you can no longer breath, nasty.
We take the kayaks on a 2 hour paddle to the swamp and have a very peaceful day away from the twittering hordes at camp traveler.
highlights of paddle:
- We see a 4 year old boy lasso a horse on the shore.
- Thousands of swifts feeding above us.
- Hundreds of cormorants sitting in the silver trees (no camera, dope!). As we maneuvered below them they took flight and arced above us filling the sky with black crosses.
- Dave tries to make a sail with his T Shirt and we drift some of the way back using our paddles as rudders.
boulders of volcanic rock
The following day we start the epic journey to the Caribbean Corn islands for our snorkeling week. More about that ridiculous journey in the next post.
