Jumping into the swimming hole from a rope swing

Waterfalls at Casacda Verde Eco-lodge

Howler monkeys woke me at dawn, sounding more like donkeys braying than howling.  Toucans flew to the big tree near the deck. I hiked to the waterfall before breakfast and went back to swim there after. Cascada Verde Eco-lodge was built by an East German and is run by young Americans. Volunteer positions are available. I fixed a flat before leaving and saw Howler monkeys in trees next to the highway. The road is hilly and near the coast, but affords few views of it. A family invited me to lunch at their house in Cortes, not a tourist area.  I cycled through an afternoon thunderstorm; enjoying the cooling effect.  During the rainy season now it rains for about an hour a day, sometimes torrentially.  I’ll get thoroughly drenched, almost as if I’m swimming with my bike.  Not long after the rain stops I’ll be fairly dry and my clothes laundered.  The rain is not good for the bike chain, though.  It is becoming squeaky and I’m not lubricating it because I have a new chain to put on when I get around to it one of these days

Swimming hole viewed from the launch zone.

Gustavo Rivara

View from the yoga deck at Cascada Verde Eco-lodge

Gustavo Rivara from Argentina has been cycling the Americas for 15 years on a fixed-gear bike; single speed, no brakes.  The St. Paul Pioneer Press featured him in a September 2000 article. I found an Italian bike shop in Quepos and bought new brake pads, gloves, and jersey. They do not carry my size of inner tube. There are 50 km of unpaved highway from Quepos to Dominical, mostly flat through Palm Oil plantations. The surface was not bad until the last 10k, where I slowed considerably. (It is now all paved as of 2010) The paved road after Dominical hugged the coast with nice views from the winding hills. At Uvita I turned off the road to look for a hotel; saw a sign for Cascada Verde Eco-Lodge, 1.6 km uphill.  We had a vegetarian pizza made with coconut milk in the crust.

Crocs from the Hwy 34 bridge over the Tarcoles River

Twenty kilometers to cycle to catch the 8 am ferry to Puntarenas.  I’d have been on the road by six, but had to change the rear tire.  The oversized tube went flat due to a leaking patch.  The first new spare tube I put in won’t hold air.  The valve leaks. These tubes and patch kits I bought in Mexico were made in India.  In 1976, I recall that Indian-made tires were poor quality.  I had hoped their quality control had improved by now.  So I’m on the road by 6:30 and can do 20k in an hour.  But one kilometer out of town the road turns from pavement to very bad   dirt, mud, rocks, and potholes.  I worry that I won’t make the 8 am ferry, but after 10k the road turns back to pavement.  Why they left that 10k stretch unpaved, I do not know.  The hour-and-a-half sea cruise across the Gulf of Nicoya cost less than a dollar, plus two dollars for the bike.  My route through Costa Rica will follow the Pacific Coast, and so far the road is great for cycling.  As the day ended I followed signs to the Pelican Hotel, a tranquil beachfront inn.  I chatted at the bar with a retired American couple who live down the beach, and a vacationing family who lives 5 miles (8k) from my parents in Florida.

A maze of potholes between Jicaral and Lepanto

Big busses cross this bridge to get to the ferry at Playa Naranjo

Restaurant at the Pelican Hotel

Surfers at Playa Tamarindo

I checked out Tamarindo beach after checking out of Hotel Paradisus. Tamarindo is popular for surfing and has a few blocks of hotels, restaurants, and shops on the road by the beach.  I then took a shortcut that I knew was unpaved. But the first 7k of the 14k was incredibly bumpy, so I kept my speed under 10 kph to avoid damaging my equipment.  I got back on the not-too-busy Hwy. 21 at Santa Rosa at 2:30pm and had diminishing traffic all afternoon.  I cycled the last couple of hours on smooth pavement no busier than a Wisconsin county road.  I rode through a late afternoon thunderstorm that cleared 5k down the road and arrived here just before dark and the start of another downpour.   I’m lucky that there is a hotel in this town.  Costa Rica TV showed scenes of World Bike Naked Day and, darn it, I kept my clothes on all day.

I’m staying at Hotel Paradisus, a five star hotel at Playa Conchal on the pacific coast.  My Uncle Stan Mathews sent an email offering to host me here where he has enjoyed staying.  It’s so nice to have a rich uncle.  So today I cycled to the beach instead of to the mountains and enjoyed a nice dinner listening to a live sax player. Thank you, Tio Stan.

I am becoming arthritic.  I’ve had a sore right middle finger since leaving Texas; though not from overuse expressing my attitude towards Texas drivers.  I thought I must have sprained it somehow; but now my three left middle fingers are sore.  Though I am in denial of getting old, I turn 52 next month.  Old people, like me, get arthritis.

The biggest pool in Central America

Night scene at Astrea bar and casino

The Family on Bikes in Costa Rica

reCyclist enters Costa Rica

I gave the Family on Bikes a headstart and met them at the border.  Costa Rica started with more hills and jungle.  Nancy and the boys saw monkeys.   The Guinness records people want the Family on Bikes to verify their progress  at easily identifiable landmarks.  So they take photos at every border crossing.  They stopped at the first town in Costa Rica, La Cruz. We said our goodbyes and I continued on to the next town, Liberia.  This is not the country in Africa where Julie served in the Peace Corps.

Volcano Concepcion (1610). I missed catching the lightning striking ythe peak.

Up at dawn and biked into town for breakfast at Kathy’s Waffles.  I recommend Nicaragua for an inexpensive vacation and Granada is a nice place to start.  The Family on Bikes got an earlier start, but I passed them by while they stopped for breakfast.  An 18-year-old senorita cycled uphill with me for 45 minutes to practice speaking English.  She’s a strong cyclist.  I arrived here at noon and found a nice hotel down by the lake.  I’m just 15k from the 1610m (mile high) Volcano Concepcion.  In the evening, lightning is again striking at the peak.  This is the same peak I saw lightning strike last night.  I wonder if it creates it’s own weather.  I invented a washing machine, took a nap, and biked into Rivas to eat with the Family on Bikes.

Reina, mi cyclista amiga

Just close the lid & rock the Bike Bin back & forth.

Steam rising from inside the caldera of Volcano Masaya

All through Mexico and Central America, when you order coffee you get instant coffee. Here in Nicaragua they finally serve real coffee. Coffee and sweet rolls are gratis at my hotel this morning. I met up with the Family on Bikes before noon at the American’s bike shop. I felt like Stanley finally meeting Livingston in the heart of darkest Africa. We biked together for a while; then I opted to climb up to Volcano Masaya while they continued on to Granada where we met up later. Using the freedom of mobility that my own set of wheels provides, I biked through town , down to Lake Nicaragua, and out to the Isles of Granada; where I’m staying at an idyllic eco-resort. Lightning flashes over a volcano island halfway down this 144 km long  lake. I’m the only tourist eating here with five staff people to serve me.

reCyclist at the volcano

Davey, Nancy, Darryl, and John Vogel

Sunset at Villas Mombacho on the Isles of Granada, Lake Nicaragua

I considered taking a day off to go volcano boarding, but they don’t have spare shoes to lend. I’m trying to meet up with the Family on Bikes in Managua. On the way there I decide that I don’t want to stay in a big city, so at 4:30pm depart Managua and head here to Masaya 30 km south. I’m going strong and would have made it before dark until I saw a modern bike shop owned by an American. He carries the size inner tubes I’ve been looking for! I bought two.  So after visiting a while, I turn on my helmet lights and push on.   Only fifteen more kilometers to go, but it gets dark fast here in the tropics.  Darkness comes when I turn off the highway into town.  Streetlights now and less traffic, too.   None of the other cyclists on the road have lights. The streetlights end before I get to town. My front wheel hits a pothole and gets a blowout. I put a new tube in that front tire this morning due to the valve leaking air. The new tube also leaks air sometimes. I put my faith in the new tube and it held air all day until the blowout at night. I put in one of the just-purchased new tubes in the dark with three guys watching.

This is the 30th anniversary of Nicaragua’s socialist revolution.  I met a German communist in the restaurant he owns along with his Nicaraguan wife.  He’s a waste management engineer who is working on a UN project to eliminate Managua’s dump.  Villages have no waste collection, plastic bags and bottles are dumped in the ditches.  Though I look for trash receptacles; I know my plastic water bottles will end up in the ditch, too.   I’m pleased that someone is attempting to deal with the problem.

Volcano San Cristobal (1757m)

On the road by 5 am and spent the morning circling Volcano San Cristobal.  I have no map of this country for the first 75 km (same for the last three border crossings); so I have no idea where the road is taking me.  I start out heading east, like I’ll pass to the north of the volcano.  Then head south, straight towards it.  Next: “Why am I going west?” At least I’m going around it.  The peak peeks in and out of the clouds. I keep a close eye on it for a photo possibilities.  My rear tire went flat just as I arrived in the first town(70k by9 am).  The puncture is in a crease in the oversized tube I installed in Mexico.   Then just as I arrive here in Leon, I get a blowout in my front tire after hitting a pothole hiding in a shadow right after a speed bump.  Why do they create these artificial speed bumps when there are so many natural ones?

I’m staying at a backpacker’s hostel on the Lonely Planet trail.  They offer half-day volcano boarding adventures down the newest volcano in Central America.  I consider taking a day off cycling; but no sandals allowed.  Sandals are the only footwear I have.  I think this is the first place I’ve stayed where I’m not the only tourist.  Most of  the clientele here seems to be the age of my kids.

Blowout here in this pothole

Big Foot Hostel in Leon, Nicaragua

Iglesia Calvario in Leon