We are at the Popoyo Lodge in the Rivas Province of Nicaragua, after a full day of travel and activities. The morning began at 4 am this morning after spending a glamorous night in one of the lounge chairs in the Orlando airport pilot lounge. I met up with the other Cocoa Beach surfers at the baggage check in for American Airlines. Travelling with Dave, Rick and Tom, and Freddie is in another story.
Pretty uneventful flight down to Miami, which can be said of most flights where you are asleep. In Miami, we joined up with another surfer from California, Kevin.
On our climb out from Miami, I watched the red barrel tiled houses to the South of the airport disappear as we headed out over the blue waters of the Florida Atlantic Coast, maneuvering to avoid the cumulus clouds as they steadily grew as a result of the day’s increasing heat.
Again nodding off, when I next looked outside were flying over Cuba, and continuing across the Caribbean to the Central American coastline. It was a mere 2 hour flight from Miami to Managua, and making landfall over the Atlantic coastline of Nicaragua, I was reminded that it was still dry season by the brown vegetation on the hills outside of Managua. Also, we had some great views of the cone-like volcanic mountains outside of the city, and noticed some of the craters were filled with water, creating crater lakes. There is a lake near the city, however, I was told it was not Lake Nicaragua, which is the Lake responsible for the wonderful offshore winds that make this country a premier surf destination.
Our descent into Managua passed over the outlying residential area, and I was struck by the similarity of the roof colors in this town, although the material was corrugated metal painted a rust color to mimic the barrel tiles that are so easily observed in South Florida.
The American 757 glided in on a short final, and prior to touchdown I viewed a helo pad on the airfield which had 3 vintage Soviet produced Hind helicopters parked there, collocated next to a bunker which was no doubt a relic from the recent revolutionary past of this country.
After deplaning on the ramp, we made our way to the escalator leading to Customs and Immigration and local music of Guntanamera wafted up from the ground level that was being played by a Nicaraguan band consisting of a marimba, ukulele, and guitar.
I stood toeing the yellow line awaiting entry into Nicaragua which occurred as I held my passport holding my travel documents, the most recently filled out for the Health Ministry asking if I had recently experienced any symptoms of diarrhea, abdominal cramps, high temperature, loss of appetite, and most interestingly: decay. The no box was checked for all of the queries of possible symptoms, and I also answered the slightly misspelled question, “where was the plain boarded”, translated as proficiently as the American Airlines ground based attendant who welcomed us to Nicaragua after landing, and assured us that if we had any problems, an American Airlines “personality” would be able to assist.
I was subsequently cleared into the country, and walked through the baggage area to see our surfboards stacked neatly, like cord wood. Except, Kevin’s board bag did not make it from California, somehow.
Awaiting our group, outside were two club cab pick ups that held our boards in the back, and 4 surfer passengers in the cab area. The ride to Popoyo was about 2 ½ hours, and we stopped along the way for some liquid refreshment, which for me consisted of one of the extra sweet Coca Colas produced in this part of the world, and a bag of plantain chips. Bouncing along the dry dusty roads, the radio station pumped out a non stop sequence of 70s disco music, which is not even available on a US radio station anymore, to include Boogie Oogie Oogie, Fly Robin Fly, and just about all of the numerous hits by the Bee Gees.
Finally arriving at Popoyo Lodge, we were instantly greeted by our host, JJ, the owner of the lodge, and his surfboard porters. Almost as instantly, he insisted we reboard the club cab pick ups to go surfing. Like, right away. He really gets it, as does his well heeled staff of customer service locals.
Within an hour, we were scoring waist to chest high waves on the Pacific coast, as the offshores held up the small faces, creating some clean surf fun. Our host in the line up as always is Friendly Dave, keeping the line up cheerful, and slashing some wave faces by the by.
As the sun began its descent in the Western sky, the wave faces lit up as if being illuminated by stage lights, and the haze on the horizon created a pastel yellow reminding me of a quality illustration in a children’s water color book.
After a fun session of small waves, we headed back to the Lodge, showered, and had a great fish dinner, and were briefed by Chris, who was to be our surf guide for the week. He instructed us that tomorrow, we would be going to our designated surf spot via boat, and when he knocks on our door at 5 the next morning, it was not time to dawdle, but to get moving towards the fruit and coffee on the way to surf. I took that as a not so thinly veiled message that it was time for bed.
No comments:
Post a Comment