Little Corn Island

Waking up after another night in the Granada parqueo (oddly, sleeping in parking lots is seeming normal) we were giddy with excitement to get out to the Caribbean. A short bus ride and then a long taxi ride got us to the airport in Managua, the capital of Nica. Boarding the plane, Kim asked, the concern evident in her voice, “You reckon this thing will fly?” Other than the fact that all the gauges were in Russian, and neither pilot appeared to speak Russian, it seemed like a serviceable enough plane. I assume the gauges with post-it notes were Spanish translations of the important ones. As we approached Big Corn Island, it was just like in the pictures, mottled water of deep blue and aqua. WOW! We started walking the 2 km to the dock after wading through hordes of cabbies at the airport, knowing that the boat to Little Corn left in an hour. Half way there a taxi stopped and told us that on Wednesdays they leave early and we should hurry, so we hopped in. We waited for two hours for the boat. Arriving on Little Corn we were greeted by many islanders each offering the best place to stay. We had been told that Elsa’s was really nice, so we headed that way with her son. Upon arrival, we discovered they were full and went to the next group of huts on the beach, Grace’s Cool Spot. This was a bit more of a Florida spring break atmosphere, but the food was good.

The next day we intended to find other lodging as the hut motel wasn’t really what we wanted. The day slipped by quickly once we had strung our hammocks up between a couple of palm trees. The only interlude was taking a dug-out with Randal out to the reef, 500m offshore. So National Geographic rates Little Corn Island’s reef as one of the top 10 in the world and boy, did it ever deliver. There was brain coral, elk coral, green coral, red coral, and sea cucumbers and parrot fish and blue fish and and and. And then, as we got into a bit deeper water I saw this large dark shape gliding along. Assuming it was a shark, I didn’t want to get Kim’s attention, but as it got closer I saw that it was an Eagle Ray, the one with spots. Kim was a ways back bobbing in the waves and by the time I got her attention, there were 3 rays!! Needless to say, getting back into a dugout in the ocean takes some doing, but before long we were back in our hammocks, every now and again saying to each other, Wow! RAYS!

After Grace forgot to shut down the generator and the mice kept us awake well into the night, we decided to prioritize other lodging options. We got an early start, 11:30, and soon found Ensuenos (Dreams). The owner has built the cabanas out of materials that were found on the beach. Our cabin was the smallest, and cheapest at $15/night, and had tons of charm. Each building was different and funky but the owners’ house was truly magnificent. A ship’s steering wheel serving as a window, sail cloth awning over the deck, lots of funky.

And then there was the bathroom. Again, all found materials. My drivel can’t truly explain it, so have a look at the movie. I’ll rate this toilet as my second favorite, the best being in the saddle of the Tetons in Wyoming. And the water pump was pretty neat. It was a PVC pipe coming up from the well and a piece of rope running through it. On the rope were tied little ceramic cups, just smaller than the pipe. A crank handle to get it all spinning and the pipe soon filled with water and poured into a water collection tank serving the shower, toilet and sink. Although this would have impressed the Professor, Ginger would have loved the exercise bike that could also spin the pump. The sink in the bathroom was an old dug-out. This also served as a clothes-wash station, with a wash board fitted in the middle.

We spent 2 more days stuck in our hammocks, the loud thud of a coconut falling nearby confirming the need to carefully choose where you hang your hammock. I once calculated how fast a coconut is traveling by the time it hits the ground. It took lots of calculus, but I seem to remember it would hurt. During this time I managed to convince Kim that we should go scuba diving. Who couldn’t for $25?

We got to the dive shop right on time. However, our watches were not on island time and we hung out for a while and chatted with the new managers, both very friendly and professional. Our dive master, Esteban, was an enthusiastic Mexican and he walked Kim through the procedure on how to put her kit together with endless smiles. She was a bit rusty as her last diving was in Malawi, ten years prior. A ten minute boat ride and we were at the dive site. I can’t say how proud I was of Kim as she put her hand over her regulator and fell backwards over the boat looking like a pro. Growing up in northern BC does not seem to foster a love of the water. Once we started to descend we could see reef with sand channels running all over and barracuda fish looking at us down their long noses, bristling with teeth. This was amazing! The coral was much denser than at snorkeling depth and there were way more fishes. We followed Esteban around, me snapping a bunch of photos with the digital camera I rented. Underwater photography is an art that I have yet to grasp. In what felt like 10 minutes Esteban signaled that we were going up for our decompression safety stop. The hour we spent bobbing around with such an extensive array of fish, coral and sea critters was a highlight of the Island trip for both of us. Once back on the boat Kim noticed that she had been stung, most likely by a jellyfish. We quickly washed her arm with vinegar and took pictures of her very angry skin. Nothing that a few more hours in the hammocks won’t fix.

And now for a low point of our Island trip. As we headed across the island into town for dinner, a 20 minute walk, a couple coming from town told us about how they had just been mugged. They looked frazzled (who wouldn’t) and this didn’t help their English, but they said a guy with ‘The biggest machete I’ve ever seen” asked them for all their money. Kim and I didn’t know what to do. Go back with them to Ensuenos? They said he and the machete ran off into the woods, would he be gone? Well let me tell you a well known fact about Kim. When she wakes up, she starts thinking about food. About half way through breakfast she usually strikes up a conversation about lunch, you get the picture. I asked her, should we risk it, or go hungry? I knew the answer and we headed into town. Once in town I headed to the police station and Kim hurried to the dive shop to pick up our photos on CD. As I would never have found it alone, I asked a man where the police station was. He of course asked why, and was visibly upset about what I told him. He led me straight to the station which only had four guys eating dinner outside to differentiate it from any other house. The cops immediately scoffed down the last of their dinner once I had explained to them what happened. I then saw what many of you may never see. Inside the station were a couple of bunk beds. The cops pulled on their uniform shirts and then from under their pillows, yes under their pillows, they produced machine guns. That made me laugh, until four guys with machine guns all looked at me. They started tossing a couple of names around and then settled on who the crook was and decided to go looking for him. I suppose with only 500 people, half being female, half again being black, half again being young, it doesn’t take Colombo to figure it out. I also arranged for them to walk Kim and I home as it would be dark once we ate dinner. While Kim was at the dive shop she established that one beer would be appropriate compensation for walking us home. According to the dive shop, this would be the first time in almost a year that anything like this has happened. Apparently the Island used to have a Wild Wild West feel but the tourist police came in over a year ago and sent the ruffians packing. Tourist police are a subset of regular police, trained in the ways of tourists. They are the government’s (very effective) answer to muggings of tourists at places such as Tikal, Copan and the Corn Islands. The walk home with four cops was wonderful glimpse into another facet of Central American life. They make peanuts - 2000 cordobas or $120 a month. A dinner out on the island costs between $2 and $10, a beer is $1, and canned supplies are pretty expensive, since they have to be brought in from the mainland. They didn’t like the Island and were glad their tour there was almost over. Can you imagine wishing for your tour of duty on a peaceful Caribbean island to be over?? The national police are stationed all over Nica and move around a lot. They were also, like most Nicas, amazingly nice. A highlight was a HUGE crab running up one of their legs. He wasn’t so impressed and I thought he was going to shoot it with his machine gun.

The next morning we got up really early and caught the first boat off the island. At the airport, which was a large thatch roofed hut, they were doing hand searches of carry on since they didn’t have an X-Ray machine. Going through Kim’s bag they found two pairs of nail clippers (actually three but the one didn’t have the file thingy, and no, I don’t know why Kim carries 3 pairs of nail clippers). They told us we couldn’t take them on the plane, and then offered to check them. Separately. They wrapped them in tape, and stuck a ticket on them. Then he started to search my bag. I pushed on it and said it’s just clothes and a hammock which was good enough for him and I was let through. Oh, but don’t worry, if I had had anything in there, they would have found it in Managua. There was an X-ray machine for folks getting off the plane and *leaving* the airport. Seriously. I gave my usual objection about the camera and the guard said “well take it out.” I took out my camera bag, they scanned my backpack, but no-one looked at the camera bag. Weird.

We were both relieved to see La Tortuga snug as a bug in the parqueo. Although as we came in the attendants came running over with Strong Man in their hands! Dean had tied Strong Man onto the grille back in Asheville and he’s become our guardian angel. We had also notice how the kids looked at him and apparently one kid did more that look! The attendant, who spoke Spanish in what I would liken to a southern drawl, and was generally unintelligible, explained with lots of vigor about how the kid had reached through the fence are gjavascript:void(0)
Publishrabbed strong man (and the VW badge) and ran down the street. He of course gave chase (I wish I could have seen this!) and soon caught the miscreant who, we were assured, received a very strong lecture. Strong man has been relocated to higher ground. This will not only give him a better vantage of the world, but should be out of harms way.