Back to Backpacking
After waving Red off from the dock in Veracuz with a soggy hankerchief and a tear in my eye I hefted my rucksack onto my back and headed for the bus station, destination Central America. We have a month to backpack this area whilst Red relaxes on his cruise to Buenos Aires.
Guatemala was a country of marching school bands, traditionally dressed women, fried chicken, beautiful volcano ringed towns and lakes.
The black sand beaches of El Salvador provided some tough waves for Dave to have surfing lessons on, even swimming felt like being on the spin setting in a washing machine.
Honduras was a night time shuttle bus and a blackout border crossing with an immigration guard checking my passport with a candle and a body being thrown into the back of a truck by policemen, drunk or other, I am not sure!
Nicaragua was my favourite country and exceeded all expectations, the people were super friendly, helpful and desperate for us to tell our friends that it is a safe country, and it was.
We did a couple of tours in the beautiful town of Granada, one to the top of Volcan Masaya to see the lava bubbling and spurting inside the crater, the other for a lazy Sunday afternoon leaping off the boat into Lake Nicaragua to escape the brutally hot, humid weather. A ferry whisked us across to Omotepe Island where we thought we would climb another volcano, but due to the bad weather we talked ourselves out of it and decided to head to the coast. We found the correct chicken bus in the market square and enjoyed the rough ride to San Juan del Sur on the Pacific coast. Here I felt brave and had my first surf lesson, it was great fun, the surf was kind, my instructor brilliant and Dave and I were soon catching waves together, albeit little ones!
We caught one last bus to Costa Rica a week before Red's boat was due to dock and flew to Buenos Aires, but that's another story and chapter in our adventure.