“There ain’t shit
going on in this town… but I’m glad I got to experience the real Nicaragua.”
Before I set off for my journey I had the naïve illusion of
myself being the lone gringo amongst the locals, conversing in Spanish and being
invited to take part in their customs and traditions. Upon arrival to Central
America, however, it quickly became apparent that this would not be the case;
many towns, especially surf towns, were geared toward tourism. It was in the
small fishing town of Aserradores that I had come closest to realizing this
dream.
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| Aserradores (A) was in the middle of nowhere, it was tough getting anyone to take us further than Chinandega |
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| Encountered this a few times during the drive into Aserradores |
Aserradores was just about as far North as one can get on
the Pacific coast of Nicaragua. It was the logical stop after Granada because
it had surf breaks, would allow me to see a completely different area of the
country and was along the way to Honduras, where several friends of mine were destined.
After much difficulty arranging for private transport, we arrived in
Aserradores in the afternoon of November 29th, 2013. The fact that
no one was eager to drive us there should have been an indication of how far
off the beaten track we were straying.
Aserradores was a tiny village situated by an estuary of the
Pacific Ocean. The nets hanging outside nearly every home attested to the
vibrant fishing industry in the community. There were no grocery stores,
restaurants, or large hotels. Several homes doubled as pulperias from which
people could buy sweets, pop and, occasionally, fresh vegetables and meat. We
stayed about a forty-five minute walk outside of this small village, not on the
beach, but in a cabin alongside the farms on the outskirts of town.
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| Aserradores |
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| Fishing nets were being mended or hung-out to dry outside nearly every home |
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| The cabin and campsite |
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| Cooking up some grub |
The
cabin was in the far back corner of a long, narrow
property. It was a small, wooden cabin equipped with a propane stove, basic
electricity but no fridge, and an outhouse. While Ross and Kate stayed in the
cabin, Tom, Jaylynn and I elected to camp outside by the orange and lime trees that
were ready for the picking. Every morning I would wake in my tent to the sound
of horses, pigs and chickens grazing in the field.
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| Just a typical morning |
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| Babe |
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| Cool bird |
Aserradores is home to one of Nicaragua’s most famous
breaks, ‘The Boom’. It is a steep beach break that causes the swell to jack-up
at the last minute creating incredibly fast and hollow waves that dump no more
than several feet from shore, in only a couple feet of water. Accordingly, many
boards break here and it is expected of surfers to bring a quiver of sticks.
Unfortunately, there was absolutely no swell that rolled in and no surfing to
be had. While I came for the surfing, I got something completely different out
of my time there.
I felt as if it was my first authentic cultural experience
in Latin America. While one would expect for one of Nicaragua’s top breaks to
spur development and attract tourists, this was clearly not the case in
Aserradores – at least, it has yet to happen. There were a couple of
all-inclusive surf resorts along the coast, but only one
hostel in town run by
a Portugese-American named Joe. The first piece of evidence that this area was
seldom travelled occurred one day on the black-sanded beach of Aposentillo when a
family of over half-a-dozen asked us if they could take a picture with us, the
gringos.
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| Playa Aposentillo |
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| Black sand |
There was poverty in Aserradores, and its residents clearly
led a different life than that which we are used to in the Western world. The
houses were made of wood and tin and, in places, openings were patched with
cardboard boxes. A common sight was seeing a whole family packed on a single
motorcycle, with the infants squeezed between the adults on the seat and the older children on the gas tank and handlebar. Of course, none wore a helmet. From
7:00 to 12:00 the children were in school, all in the same class no matter the
age. Here they studied every subject that children do in our schools, except
for English. This may have been due to the lack of an English-speaking teacher,
as I did not meet a single local who spoke the language.
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| Ross hard-at-work with the coconuts |
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| Tom snacking on some coconut meat |
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| First harvest provided plenty for snacking and home-made orange juice for screwdrivers |
Despite the poverty, the locals were the kindest and
friendliest people. I’d have to greet every person I passed on the street and,
occasionally, attempt to carry out a conversation with them. The neighbouring
children were understandably the most curious with us gringos and spent most of
their free time at our cabin. They taught us how to gather oranges from the
thorny trees and entertained us with their fire-crackers made of gunpowder
wrapped in newspaper. My photos of the snow-covered mountains of Western Canada
amazed them, and they were thoroughly entertained by my digital camera, with
which they ran around taking countless pictures of anything and everything.
They also found it particularly funny to watch me practicing Spanish with some
audio tapes.
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| Neighbourhood kids laughing at my Spanish lesson |
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| A couple of the local kids |
In addition to getting a taste of rural Nicaragua, I
experienced a phenomenon that I reckon only few have had the opportunity of
doing, skinny-dipping in the Pacific Ocean with bioluminescent algae. As you can imagine with no surfing to
be had, we had lots of downtime in our rurally-situated cabin. One evening,
several drinks deep, we all decided it’d be a good idea to trek to Playa Aposentillo
for a swim. As we swam in the Pacific under the clear, star-spattered skies we
noticed countless yellow/green –coloured lights trailing our movements –
bioluminescent algae. Supposedly once a year the deep, cold water of the
Pacific Ocean ascends to the surface, carrying with it this bioluminescent
algae. When looking at the ocean it was completely black, but any of our
movements caused the algae to fluoresce. It seems that alcohol doesn’t always
lead to bad decisions, for if it wasn’t for our Coke con ron we would’ve surely
missed this opportunity.
Our last day in Aserradores did not disappoint either. In
fact, it surpassed all of our expectations. One evening at Joe’s place, the
only hostel in town, Joe noticed that we were a little down about the waves and
suggested we check out Maderas Negras, a river-mouth break that pumps out waves
when neither the ‘Point’ or the ‘Boom’
are working. A couple of days later, on our last day, we woke in the
early morning, strolled into town and hopped in a boat headed for Maderas
Negras. We dropped a couple of fishing lines and trolled along the way. About
fifteen minutes in, Tom managed to hook and reel in a large mackerel. Ten
minutes later we were anchored behind the break and getting ready to surf.
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| Ross fishing on the way to Maderas Negras |
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| Kate and Tom with the catch-of-the-day, holy mackerel |
Approaching an unfamiliar break from behind was a wild
experience. I did not know the size of the waves nor their shape. As I paddled
closer I had to keep checking over my shoulder to see if anything was building
up behind me. The waves were clean, breaking well both right and left. I had a
fantastic session and surfed until I was completely exhausted, which was not
such a bright idea. Normally if I were tired I could just surf on into shore
and call it a day. I failed to remember that once done, I had to paddle out
past the break to get back to the boat. Already dead tired paddling toward the
boat, I saw the perfect wave building just in front of me and I couldn’t resist
turning around and catching a final ride. I road it into shore and, satisfied
with the surf session, started paddling back out toward the boat. It was the worst
paddle I’ve ever had to do. I didn’t have an ounce of energy left, my arms felt
like noodles and I was hardly covering any distance between the crashing waves.
About twenty minutes later I made it back to the boat exhausted, but thrilled
about the session and the fresh pescado we would be having for dinner – and,
pardon the pun, but holy mackerel was it ever good.
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| Anxiously waxing our boards for the first surf in nearly two weeks |
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| Approaching the break from the back |
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| All stoked about the surf session and fresh pescado we'd be having for dinner |
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| Filleting Tom's mackerel |
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| Melody frying up some sweet plantains for dessert |
While I was a little disappointed at first when I arrived to
Aserradores and there was no swell, I can’t express how grateful I am that we
found this little cabin. Truly interacting with the locals in rural Nicaragua,
skinny-dipping with bioluminescent algae and a boat trip to surf Maderas Negras
were not expected from Aserradores, but I’m stoked to have been able to share
these experiences with Ross, Tom, Kate and Jaylynn. We split in Chinandega and all
head our separate ways, but hopefully we’ll cross paths in the future. Next
week I’ll be back in Costa Rica, meeting up with mis amigos Mark and Tarapacky
from back home!
Pura Vida
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| Blogging time |
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| Tom, Jaylinn, Kate and Ross |
