Because every adventure needs an intense hiking story

The island of Ometepe is very tiny and has an even smaller population. It is essentially two volcanos connected by a small strip to land, so the inhabitable space is limited. To get there, we took a shuttle to a ferry to a cab to the hostel. Madera is the smaller volcano and is dormant. Meaning, since it died, wildlife has been able to flourish. In fact, there are five separate eco systems found on the mountain, ranging from dry forest to lagoon to rain forest. I am only giving you this quick history lesson so that you have some context for the below story.

We got up super early, packed our backpacks with a couple huge water bottles, an exta shirt, raincoat (for the top - it's always misty) and met the four Englsh girls that we would be hiking with. They reassured us that they were not expert hikers. I found this comforting because my "hiking experience" was essentially limited to before the age of 12 in Wisconsin with Indian Princesses (now more politically named Celebration Princesses or something like that) or Girl Scouts.

Our guide picked us up from our hostel and we started our trek. I would like to emphasize that it wasn't that our guide picked us up and then shuttled us to the entrance of the hike - our guide walked into the common area of the hostel and we literally walked out the door of our hostel to the top of a volcano.

Therefore, the trek began with some road walking, and some cutting through backyards (what hiking shoes are made for). Eventually we reached the entrance and pad 25 cordobas (one dollar) to enter what appeared to be a random woman's backyard. She and her tiny kids were just chillin', carrying machetes. Duh.

I took to calling the different areas and eco systems "levels". This is likely not even close to scientifically accurate, but I do not care.

Our first level was a plantain plantation. Trees that look like palm trees and received the brunt of the machetes carried by that woman and her children. This level was basically flat. Easy.

Second level reminded me of autumn - dried leaves on the ground and still lots of leaves in the trees. Little more of an incline. Relatively easy. After hour one I had an Usher song running through my head and thought to myself, "I got this."

In the most simplified description, as we ascended, everything became wetter. The third level was more like a jungle. Denser and greener trees, and Howler monkeys who while super cute, have the most terrifying roar that I have ever heard. The ground became steeper and full of large rocks to be traversed.

It was somewhere between level three and four (and hour two-ish, so still early) that some in the group started losing their minds. Lots of yelling "for fucks sake!" and at this point I had Big Sean's angry "I don't fuck witchu! You a stupid ass bitch I ain't fuckin witchu!" in my head, I thought to myself, "it cannot possibly get more difficult than this." I was quite incorrect.

It got harder. Much harder. So much harder. The last two levels and three and a half hours were basically rainforest then lagoon. What does this mean, you ask? 

Mud. And rocks that could qualify as boulders. Slippery, muddy boulders that had to be climbed and traversed without losing balance and plummeting to our death. By the time we got to the last level, we were essentially jumping from slippery boulder to slippery boulder (at a severe incline) OR we were in thick mud puddles up to mid calf that threatened to squish off our boots. By the time we reached this level, there had been three crying meltdowns by girls in the group. I certainly never melted down, but at this point was so exhausted that I have no idea what song was in my head. 

Finally, we reached the crest. One of the unique "selling" points about Madera is that there is now a lake where the crater of lava used to be. We emerged from the vines and mud, looked down into the lake, and a cloud came in. And covered the entire view. Five and a half hours after our initial departure, we were now essentially sitting on a rock in the middle of a cold and misty cloud, mud up to our thighs, eating the sad little ham and cheese sandwiches prepared by our hostel. It was possibly the most anticlimactic quests of my life. BUT I can now say that I've CLIMBED A VOLCANO and no one can take that away from me.

Aaaand then we got to go back down. 

The top two levels were as difficult descending as they were ascending since it was still a game of jumping around slippery muddy boulders. The odds of twisting and ankle or falling down just increased significantly. There were many slips and spills and more crying (again, never by me) and bruises and wasps the size of a fist, and oh yea, a poisonous snake. 

The best part of the whole trek was making it to a lookout point about an hour and a half from the bottom, and watching the sunset next to Concepcion (the other volcano). It was stunning. 

By the time we were crossing through backyards to get back to the hostel, it was pitch black so we were using little flashlights provided by the woman with the machete.

Eleven hours after departing we strolled into the hostel common area looking like mud covered zombies. People were legitimately freaked out. Shots were immediately poured and handed out as one by one we collapsed carelessly onto the bug covered benches. According to my iPhone's health tracker app, I climbed up 263 flights of stairs. To the top of the Sears Tower. Twice! 

While this hiking story paints a bad picture (never again), I have extremely fond memories of Ometepe. The entire island was infected with bugs and critters and the hostel was a step above camping, but the hostel was full of such fantastic people. After finding a tiny frog on the shower head and making myself a semi-presentable human being, we had dinner with a whole new gang of people. A guy doing the peace corp in Nicaragua and his visiting friends, a British and Israeli couple that chooses a new country every year to explore for three months, a few other American wanderers, and German and Swedish university mates on holiday. 

Once we finished eating, we went down by the water where a couple people had built a bonfire. Within minutes, traveling instruments had been busted out and people who had all met in the last 24 hours were singing and jamming together on guitar, ukelele, some kind of Israeli flute/recorder, and a mouth harp. The rest of us laid down on the ground, listening, chatting, laughing, and shooting star gazing. It's infinite moments like this that are exactly why I'm in wanderland. Oh yea, did I mention that I CLIMBED A VOLCANO? 

The view of the crater lake at the top that we had for several seconds before the clouds rolled in.

Not pleased about the clouds. Also not ready to go back down. That walking stick is probably the reason that I am alive today. Thank you, walking stick. Also, those shoes were once a lovely pale gray and pink. 

The lovely sunset on the way back down. Concepcion, the active volcano, is in the background.