Hitching rides with cowboys
Esteli had a very similar feel to Matagalpa, just less greenery and more pastoral farmland. Supposedly this area is saturated with "cowboy culture", but aside from a few men waltzing around in their cowboy boots and hats, I didnīt really get that vibe.
My second day there I decided to attack the 12km to the local waterfall (oh yeah, apparently when Iīm alone I get delusional about how i would like to go walking/hiking) despite the warnings from the hotel manager that I should have left 4 hours earlier. I just threw on my new yoga pants (thanks matagalpa), grabbed a bottle of water and started walking. Unfortunately for me the clouds from earlier in the day had burned off and I was slogging through a path with almost NO shade. I immediately became angry and wished I had stayed back in town, but kept on trudging thinking that, surely, i must be there soon.
After an angry 30 minutes a truck drove by which I halfheartedly flagged down, and I was delighted to see them slow down and invite me on for the ride. They told me to stand up and grip the holdbar, which I nervously did as the truck began FLYING up and down the path. Iīm pretty sure I caught some good air on some of those bumps, but I was exhilarated and cheered by the beautiful scenery. I realized after a few minutes that i was lucky to catch a ride, though, for the route was a LOT longer than I had thought and I certainly wouldnīt have made it to the waterfall until late, late afternoon.
They dropped me at the entrance gate and waved me off, and I cheerily entered the gate and greeted the gateskeeper. He held out his hand to be paid the "entrada" for the waterfall. I looked at him skeptically and figured he was just trying to rip a foreigner off, so I told him that there was no sign indicating that I had to pay and I just walked onwards huffily. I discovered days later from some other backpackers that according to the lonely planet (which i donīt have) says that youīre supposed to pay, so I felt some delayed guilt for ripping the old cowboy off.
The waterfall certainly wasnīt the most amazing or picturesque waterfall Iīve ever seen, but it IS the first waterfall Iīve come to that has been completely deserted. I was there for over an hour and I didnīt see a soul, so it was a rather nice feeling to relax and enjoy it all to myself. Unfortunately I had forgotten my swimsuit and after the harrowing heat all i could think about while looking at the water was to go for a swim. I waffled back and forth for 20 minutes and finally decided that nobody was around and jumped in with my skivvies, thinking they would dry quickly in the sun after my swim. The swim was very refreshing (cold! but refreshing) but immediately afterwards the sun was blocked by clouds (doh!) and my underwear was DEFINITELY not drying anytime soon, so I was awkwardly forced to go commando on the way home with my wet underthings tucked strategically into my bag.
I dreaded the idea of a 6km walk back sin underthings. But it was that or be stranded out in the boondocks after dark, so I reluctantly began walking back. By some blessed miracle, I heard a truck behind me after about 5 minutes and I began wildly flagging them down again, only to find that it was the SAME man who had picked me up on the way there! Such good luck. We had a wonderfully stilted chat on the way back about his farm, his health, and his sons in the US. He told me I was pretty, and I suspect he might have had an inkling to do a bit of matchmaking.
My second day there I decided to attack the 12km to the local waterfall (oh yeah, apparently when Iīm alone I get delusional about how i would like to go walking/hiking) despite the warnings from the hotel manager that I should have left 4 hours earlier. I just threw on my new yoga pants (thanks matagalpa), grabbed a bottle of water and started walking. Unfortunately for me the clouds from earlier in the day had burned off and I was slogging through a path with almost NO shade. I immediately became angry and wished I had stayed back in town, but kept on trudging thinking that, surely, i must be there soon.
After an angry 30 minutes a truck drove by which I halfheartedly flagged down, and I was delighted to see them slow down and invite me on for the ride. They told me to stand up and grip the holdbar, which I nervously did as the truck began FLYING up and down the path. Iīm pretty sure I caught some good air on some of those bumps, but I was exhilarated and cheered by the beautiful scenery. I realized after a few minutes that i was lucky to catch a ride, though, for the route was a LOT longer than I had thought and I certainly wouldnīt have made it to the waterfall until late, late afternoon.
They dropped me at the entrance gate and waved me off, and I cheerily entered the gate and greeted the gateskeeper. He held out his hand to be paid the "entrada" for the waterfall. I looked at him skeptically and figured he was just trying to rip a foreigner off, so I told him that there was no sign indicating that I had to pay and I just walked onwards huffily. I discovered days later from some other backpackers that according to the lonely planet (which i donīt have) says that youīre supposed to pay, so I felt some delayed guilt for ripping the old cowboy off.
The waterfall certainly wasnīt the most amazing or picturesque waterfall Iīve ever seen, but it IS the first waterfall Iīve come to that has been completely deserted. I was there for over an hour and I didnīt see a soul, so it was a rather nice feeling to relax and enjoy it all to myself. Unfortunately I had forgotten my swimsuit and after the harrowing heat all i could think about while looking at the water was to go for a swim. I waffled back and forth for 20 minutes and finally decided that nobody was around and jumped in with my skivvies, thinking they would dry quickly in the sun after my swim. The swim was very refreshing (cold! but refreshing) but immediately afterwards the sun was blocked by clouds (doh!) and my underwear was DEFINITELY not drying anytime soon, so I was awkwardly forced to go commando on the way home with my wet underthings tucked strategically into my bag.
I dreaded the idea of a 6km walk back sin underthings. But it was that or be stranded out in the boondocks after dark, so I reluctantly began walking back. By some blessed miracle, I heard a truck behind me after about 5 minutes and I began wildly flagging them down again, only to find that it was the SAME man who had picked me up on the way there! Such good luck. We had a wonderfully stilted chat on the way back about his farm, his health, and his sons in the US. He told me I was pretty, and I suspect he might have had an inkling to do a bit of matchmaking.
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