Hiking the Cloud Forest

Wednesday morning, was the first day since we left PuntaTeonoste that we did not have a rigid agenda.  We took advantage of this and slept in a couple hours later than we had any of the previous days.  We had loose plans of hiking in the cloud forest around the Selva Negra resort, possibly going on a guided tour hosted by the resort, or perhaps exploring the city of Matagalpa a bit.

We slowly got ourselves up and put together enough to go get breakfast, a little bit tired from the non-stop running of the last several days.  We made the short walk over to the restaurant, and picked out our usual morning booth and enjoyed some more coffee and breakfast.  Since Ryan has a strong dislike for eggs (a fact of which his mother has been in an aggressive state of denial for a few decades), he was left to order the one item on the menu that didn’t come with eggs….pancakes and bacon….for the third day in a row.  Nonetheless, they were just as good this day as the last couple.

After a very leisurely breakfast, we realized it was after 10:00am and we should probably get up and find ourselves an adventure before the day slips by.  We went back to our bungalow, washed up and got ready to go on a hike.

The lodge provided us a map, which illustrated 12 different trails along and up the mountain side, ranging from 250 to 1600 meters long, estimated hiking times of 10 to 90 minutes to complete.   If the trails to the top of the mountain were followed, they ascended 300 meters to an elevation of 1590m above sea level. The trails were also rated as easy, medium, or difficult.  We briefly discussed how much we’d hike, but decided we’d simply play it by ear. 

Ryan pulled out and put on his hiking gear.  A lightweight loose fitting long sleeved shirt, lightweight long pants, and his hiking boots.  The clothing had been preemptively soaked in permethrin to deter any mosquitos from sharing either Malaria or Zika (or any other diseases for that matter)  with him.  He was ready to go and grabbed a backpack, throwing in some snacks, water, selfie stick…all the modern necessities.  When he turned around to see how Aimee was doing, he saw that she was wearing a tank top, capris jeans (with a bit of bedazzling on the pockets), and sandals. 

Swollen Stream to Pond

Hesitantly, and carefully attempting to not sound condescending, he asked “Are you sure you don’t want to wear your boots and a long sleeve shirt for the hike?”

With a look of “meh”, Aimee replied, “These will be more comfortable, and these sandals are hiking sandals.”  She was right on the sandals.  Ryan decided not to second guess, and pushed the thoughts of a tarantula bite on the toe out of his mind as they headed back towards the restaurant where the first of the paths began.

Ryan and Aimee made their way around the backside of the pond, where the map indicated the Playitas trail

began.  This narrow, but flat path followed around about a third of the pond.  A few swollen streams led into the pond indicating that rain had been heavier than normal recently.  Additionally, several spots of the path where very saturated.  Nonetheless, the air was comfortably near 70, and the sky was beautifully partly cloudy and we made our way towards the point where the Playitas trail met up with the Cody trail.

View of Restaurant from the Other Side of the Pond

When we reached the point where we expected to see a fork in the trail, we found ourselves near the
resort’s hostel style lodge.  We paused, a bit perplexed as to where to go next.  We didn’t see signage, and the map indicated the path went back behind the hostel.  Clearly that was also the direction of the mountain.  We saw a small gravel path that looked like it led to the entry of the hostel.  We didn’t figure this could be the path as it seemed intrusively close to the hostel itself.  Nonetheless we followed it, and sure enough it continued behind the building and led into the forest. 

The path was narrow, only about 18 inches wide or so on average, with small bridges, and sets of steps here
and there, and an occasional bench to sit and watch the scenery.  Periodically we’d cross over small streams of water cascading down from higher up the mountain.  Our map showed us that we’d soon be meeting up with the Pilas trail.   As we got closer, the origin of the trails name was clear.  Here, where Pilas met Cody, were several large tanks collecting water from the streams, with pipe’s leading down towards the resort. Quite likely, this was where our showers were fed from.    

We decided to skip this trail for now, as further ahead on the Cody trail, was the area of the jungle that the howler monkeys were known to frequent.  We kept our eyes up in the trees, looking for the howler monkeys, or sloths, (which we still had not come across yet) or of course more capybara of which Aimee had not yet had her fill.

A bit further, our trail met up with the Atajo trail, which would take us a little further up the mountain, and
keep us in the area of the monkeys.   We had yet to see any so we decided to go this way, hoping to

improve our chances.  Our map labeled this as a “medium” difficulty trail.  While there was nothing exceptionally challenging about it, it was much more overgrown, and uneven.  Periodically however we did still see benches, and signs of civilization along the path.   At one point the path got more difficult to see, and we were not sure which direction we should be going.  It appeared either the path went off to the right, or straight ahead.  Both kind of looked like they were just leading us into the jungle. 

We decided the one ahead looked like more of a path, and began to follow it.  A few minutes later, we decided it probably wasn’t the right choice.  While it seemed likely that we weren’t the first ones to head this direction, it seemed noticeably less clear than the path we had been on.  We continued on for a bit, figuring from the map that even if we weren’t on the path we thought we were, that it would meet up with the Romantico path soon.  Sure enough, after 10 minutes or so, we came out on a broader path, and saw a sign that labeled it as Romantico.  A quick exploration of the trail made it clear that we had indeed carved our own shortcut between Romantico and Atajo, when we found indicating the official junction with the end of the Atajo trail was several meters further down.

After scoping out the area, we followed this also very narrow (but clearly more travelled) path to the left, pondering the origin of the name of this path.  It was very isolated, and we hadn’t seen or heard anyone since we began our hike 45 minutes earlier. It was very scenic, but no more romantic than any of the other trails.

While we continued debating what made it so romantic, we came upon a small sign that indicated we were at the “Peter and Helen” trail.  Ryan pointed out that this was one of the “difficult” rated trails.  Aimee shrugged, and set let’s give it a try.

When planning the trip, Ryan had come across the history of this trail, though aside from remembering that he had read the story, he couldn’t remember the details.  It turns out that shortly after this trail had been marked (but before it was named), a middle aged couple named Peter and Helen had left the Selva Negra lodge and mentioned they were going to go explore the trail.  As dusk set in, employees at the lodge realized they never saw the couple return.  Concerned, they sent out a group to find them.  Sure enough they found them up the mountainside, lost in the now dark jungle.  They escorted them back to the lodge.  The workers ultimately decided that given their adventure on the trail, that it should be named after Peter and Helen.  (Although it’s not known if the namesakes ever learned that the trail was named in their honor)

The beginning of the trail did not look to difficult, though it did head more directly up the mountain and was a

Tire Stairs

much steeper path.  At one point, a series of “steps” had been created by a few dozen old tires that were set into the side of the mountain, allowing for a stable climb.  After about 20 minutes of faint trails meandering back and forth but ever upward, we noticed that the trail began to more consistently zig zag up the side of the mountain every 50 to 100 feet or so.  This side of the mountain was generally around a 45-degree angle, and the path was now an 18 to 24 inch “ledge” of fairly soft dirt.  Every time we turned on onto one of the zigs or zags, we looked up the mountain thinking it couldn’t be that much further to get to the top of it.  However, the dense jungle, made it very difficult to gauge anything.  We continued what was becoming a tedious back and forth hike up and up and up, as we felt our legs starting to burn from the constant slow ascent.  The sky began to darken a little bit as some heavier clouds rolled in, and a couple times a faint drizzle wafted down through the trees.

Are we almost there yet?

As we debated how long we’d continue this back and forth, or whether we wanted to turn around, we came to a spot where a small tree and bush from up the mountain had kind of fallen over the path, blocking it.  Furthermore, there was a section of the path about 18-24 inches wide that had crumbled and washed down the side of the mountain directly under the fallen brush. 

The section of missing path was small enough to take a wide step, or small jump over, except that there was
a tree and shrubs in the way.  The foliage on its own would have been easy enough to work our way around---but the path was missing underneath.  The two obstacles together made this a much more formidable barrier to our progress.

Zigging...

Aimee, was discouraged, and tired from the length of our ascent, and suggested we turn around and head back down.  Ryan on the other hand, now saw an acute challenge in front of us.  Some of the vegetation was small enough that it could be cleared by hand (we did not bring our machetes for this trip…ok actually we don’t have any machetes).  There were some other roots and branches that looked strong enough to hold on to, to help cross the gap.  In a worst case scenario and we lost our grip or footing, it would be a 15 foot muddy slide down to the next zig zag of path below us. 

Ignoring Aimee’s half-hearted protests, Ryan pulled away some of the loose foliage, found a hand hold, and swung himself over the gap while half-hugging the botanical barrier blocking what used to be the path. 

He turned and offered a proud smile and held out a hand for Aimee, who shook her head and hesitantly

...and Zagging up Peter and Helen

moved forward, refusing the hand, but managing to cross the gap without too much difficulty.  At this point it seemed we had to be close to the top.  We zig zagged up a few more times, and it even seemed like the forest was lightening up a bit, however we continued to zig….and zag….and zig….and zag.  Several times we questioned whether we were still on the trail, when it wasn’t clear if we should be zigging or should be continuing to zag.  However, we noticed that there were periodic machete marks on the trees to mark the
trail.  At one point we stopped to rest, and look at the view of the cloud forest below us. 

As I was looking out at the forest, I heard the sound of wood cracking.  The sound came from towards the left of my field of vision.   I turned slightly towards the noise to see a large piece of a tree, a section that was about 12 feet long with multiple different branches, and probably 4 to 6 inches in diameter at its thickest plunged from the top of a tree 40 feet or so to the cloud forest floor with a loud fwump! near where we had just walked 15 minutes earlier.  Aimee heard the noise and asked what it was, and Ryan described what he just saw with nervous unease.  Had we been under that tree, it would have put a quick end to our travels for the week.

After another 15 minutes or so, we finally came to what appeared to be the end of the Peter and Helen trail.  Sure enough, there was a small sign that said “Fin de sendero” and another sign that had the name of the trail that traversed the crest of the mountain:  “Mosquitia”.  This was also listed as a “difficult” trail on our map.  But we figured, it had to be a bit easier than what we just hiked for the last 60 to 90 minutes.  Additionally, we were only going to hike about a quarter of the full Mosquitia trail in order to get to the Fuente Joventud (Fountain of Youth) trail which would take us down the mountain.

We soon realized that this trail was definitely not any easier.  While we were at the top of the mountain and

Mosquitia

no longer ascending continually, we realized the top of the mountain was not level.  The trail ascended then descended multiple large, steep hills of about 10 meters, and then would descend steeply with very uneven terrain some of which was soft soil, some was hardpacked with rocks, and some was squishy mud.  To make it fun, the different types of trail quality often looked the same or similar.  Aimee was enjoying the hike less and less.  After each hill, Ryan said optimistically, it must flatten out ahead, or the next hill looks less steep…only to find as we got closer to it that it was just as treacherous as the last one. 

It only took another 20 minutes or so to get to the Fuente Joventud trail head, and we were excited about heading back towards the resort as opposed to moving away from it…and down is always easier than up, right? 

Matagalpa in the Distance

It only took a couple of minutes heading down Fuente Joventud to realize that theory was entirely wrong.  This trail generally was made of segments of about 8-15 feet in distance that went nearly straight down, with some roots, rocks, or mud ledges for foot holds.  In between each of these sections were smaller more “level” areas.  (And by level, I mean the angle was less than 40 degrees).   This time, looking down the mountain, there didn’t seem to be anything that provided a lot of optimism that the trail would let up and even out anytime soon.   

It was getting close to 3:00pm at this point, and we did notice that the light was starting to change, and we
realized it would get darker quicker in the jungle that it did in open land.  At this time of year in Nicaragua sunset was around 6:30pm, so we weren’t sure at what point we’d begin to have a hard time seeing up here, but we knew we didn’t want to find out.  We tried to keep a steady pace, but to avoid injury, we had to be fairly measured and calculating in our decent. 

It was clear that Aimee and Ryan had two very different approaches.  When possible, Ryan would look for
a landing point within 15 feet or so and that would provide some margin for error.  He would then scope out a few places to use as steps that seemed halfway solid, and as long as the way was fairly unobstructed, he would then attempt to descend using a controlled fall, slowing his descent by stepping briefly, gently, and swiftly on each potential foot hold, and ultimately landing on the next platform lower. 

Aimee took a much more measured approach and would attempt to crab walk (to the great unease of Ryan, who was sure that this would end in a dislocated shoulder should she loose her footing) down the trail. 

On the more vertical sections of trail, Ryan would attempt to climb down as if on a ladder, though some of these sections provided very few hand and foot holds.  Aimee continued the approach of attempting to descend on her

Aimee is Tired of Fuente Joventud

butt, as Ryan looked on nervously trying to encourage her to climb down facing the mountain side.  After each segment, she would stop to vent her frustrations by cursing at the trail.  Meanwhile, Ryan did quietly thank God that it didn’t start raining while they were out there.  This trail would have been extremely difficult in rain.  The only strategy he could even imagine for rainy conditions would be to slide down these sections like a water slide.

After what seemed like an endless series of near vertical descents for about 45 minutes, Aimee’s backside was now completely covered in mud.  The angle of the path was not quite as treacherous, but still descended at a very quick rate.  Aimee suddenly decided she was in absolute need of a walking stick to finish the climb down.  She looked in earnest as we continued to descend, finally finding one that she felt was suitable.  She now used this to help her keep her balance on the uneven ground.  

Several times, Ryan who was usually ahead of her, would turn around in amusement.  Aimee in her hiking

Jungle Warrior Aimee

sandals, tank top, and walking stick, with dirt all over her, looked a bit like a strange jungle warrior (albeit a very pale one).

Eventually, the path began to level out a bit, and we ultimately met back up with the Romantico path, a little further down from where we had left the path a few hours earlier.  From here on out, we only had “medium” and “easy” trails to hike.  It was almost 4, and the jungle was quite a bit darker than it was on hour ago.  We walked at a swift pace again crisscrossing on rudimentary bridges over streams coming down the mountainside.   Finally, at about 4:30, almost 6 hours after we entered the hiking trails, we came back around the lake and past the restaurant.  

Without any discussion necessary, Aimee and Ryan agreed that after washing up, the evening would be spent eating dinner, and relaxing in the restaurant with a few drinks.

The menu had several specialty Flor de Caña rum drinks, Aimee decided she would try as many of these as she could tonight.  Ryan enjoyed a few more different Nicaraguan craft beers, while laughing about the day’s hike.  Aimee exclaimed in relief that it was over, saying that it was not at all what she expected.  Ryan had to admit it was a little bit more extreme than he had anticipated, but enjoyed it quite a bit.  Aimee replied, “I was expecting a leisurely walk through the forest.

Ryan reminded Aimee that the map called some of them ‘difficult.’  “Yeah, but we’re at a resort! When I think of resort, I think of 70 year olds going out for a walk.  I figured it would be ‘difficult’ for someone that age, not mine!” Aimee replied.

After enjoying dinner and many beverages in the restaurant, we returned back to our room, and decided to turn in early in order to rest up for the long drive ahead of us to Grenada.

Dinner Time View

Moth With 5" Wing Span at Restaurant on Light

Coffee, Chocolate, and Pinolillo

Tuesday morning marked the half way point of our trip as we began day 6.  While we lay asleep in our bed, even before the sun began to lighten our surroundings, we were awoken to the sound of howler monkeys making their presence known in the distance.  If you’ve never heard a howler monkey it is a pretty incredible sound.  From a distance it sounds like a deafening roar echoing throughout the mountains.  If you are lucky enough to hear one in front of you, you realize their throat itself creates a resonating echoey sound.  Though they are certainly a very loud animal, the way in which their growl reverberates in their throat makes them sound even larger and more ominous when heard from a distance.

We tried to sleep through the jungle’s alarm clock for a few more hours, and then got ourselves up and ready for breakfast and the day’s adventures.  As we left our bungalow we were greeted by refreshingly cool mountain air that was only about 70 degrees (F) for our short walk to the restaurant.  The Selva Negra resort sat at roughly 1200 meters above sea level--quite a bit higher elevation than even Matagalpa only 10 miles to the south, which sits at 700 meters above sea level.   The cooler air at this elevation provided a nice break for a few days from the heat of the lower lying areas of the country.

Since we were staying for several days in this resort, and we now had a good bit of laundry that was sweat soaked, we brought several bags to the front desk and requested laundry service.  They told us they would be ready by 2:00pm.  We then went and sat down for breakfast. The restaurant was a covered open air dining room alongside a medium sized pond that sat at the base of a mountain ridge rising another 350 meters behind the restaurant. 

Ten minutes later, I realized I never gave the desk my name with my laundry.  I ran over to the desk hoping that the woman was still there. She was.  I reminded her I just dropped off the laundry but forgot to give her my name.  She smiled, and said “We know who you are Mr. Ziemann.”  I was taken a back.  While the resort isn’t huge, it could certainly accommodate several dozen people---enough that I didn’t think they’d remember who I was.  It made me realize the same thing happened when we first arrived at Punta Teonoste and had a couple drinks and I went to the bar to close the tab and tell him what cabana number we were, and Gary the bartender already knew.  Similarly, at Paz de Luna we didn’t need to tell the kitchen what room we were.  They knew.  I’ve certainly experienced some customer service in developing countries such as Nicaragua that I’ve never experienced in the US. It reminded me of the ultimate in name recognition I experienced in my first trip to New Delhi, staying in the Grand Hyatt, a very large hotel, where every person I walked past in the hotel greeted me by name when I was on just a one night visit.

Breakfast at Selva Negra

We sat and enjoyed a very leisurely breakfast (too leisurely given our 8:30am appointment for our tour) sipping our first cups of local Nicaraguan coffee.  It was fairly tasty, though not as full bodied as the Starbucks that Aimee and I typically enjoy.

After enjoying our breakfast, it was difficult to tear ourselves away from the serenity of the scenery around us to head back to the city for our 8 hour chocolate and coffee tour.  However, we were about 20 minutes behind our schedule, and were going to be struggling to get to the tour office in time.

Selva Negra Pond outside the Restaurant

We gathered up our gear for the day, and jumped in the car for the drive down the winding mountain roads to the city.  We were running a bit late, and as we got into the city, and attempted to navigate the narrow corridors of its near vertical streets, we came to stopped traffic.  We could see a large semi about 6 cars ahead of us attempting to back into a narrow alley way that looked just wide enough for the width of the truck.  Backing up a truck seems like it would be a challenge in the most open of environments, but here the driver had to try and back his truck up with incredible precision to get it perpendicular to the main road exactly at the point where the back of the truck could slip into an open gate.  To make it even more difficult, the uneven terrain along the edge of the road pitched the top of the truck at various angles at risk of knocking down the top of the fence.  We sat for about 3-4 minutes watching the operation. It took only two attempts at backing up to get it lined up with the gate. I was impressed.

We arrived at the office of Matagalpa Tours within 5 minutes of our scheduled tour, and were thrilled to find out that indeed Jose, our guide from the night before, was again going to be our guide for today also. The tour was one of the first things we booked, and was one that we were most excited about, entitled "The Creation of Pinolillo: Coffee and Mocha Tour.” This was an eight our tour through a chocolate factory, coffee plantations, and something about a local drink called Pinolillo.  They had us at chocolate and coffee.  We weren’t entirely sure what to expect but we dressed in hiking clothes expecting we’d probably be doing some walking around out among nature. 

Jose brought us out to a car that was waiting for us and introduced us to the driver, a clean cut young man with chiseled features in his late twenties or early thirties. As we drove out of the Northeastern edge of Matagalpa, we drove through the northern market.  This stretch of road was crammed with hundreds of people walking in and out of stalls selling produce, fresh meat hanging from rafters, coffee, and anything else one could desire for daily living.  Once we made it through this sea of humanity, the road opened up and we drove just a short distance to the outskirts of Matagalpa.  Our driver parked the car, and we jumped out and walked into the reception area of Castillo del Cacao.

Castillo de Cacao Gift Shop

Inside the building was a small table of various chocolates for sale.  Around it were multiple cabinets that provided a bit of a museum of chocolate.  Jose walked us through the various items illustrating the wide ranging uses of chocolate and its derivatives from candy, to cooking, more unusual items such as a can of AXE Chocolate scented body spray, and chocolate flavored condoms.  These were not available in this store, but were just provided as context to the chocolate industry.  Jose explained the history of the factory and that it was started by a Dutchman and had a mission of providing a place of employment primarily for single mothers in the area.  He further explained that the focus of the factory is really on local employment and revenue generated from the tourist market, as locals generally don’t have much of a taste for chocolate, and it is too expensive for many of them anyway. 

Castillo de Cacao

Grinding Cocoa Beans

Jose took us through each of the sections of the small factory.  First he showed us the cacao bean roasters.  Having been on a tour in Nashville of a coffee factory, I immediately recognized the roasters as being essentially the same machine as those for coffee. From there he showed us the tools that used to be used to Flor de Caña, Nicaragua’s very own rum that was used in some of their creations, however Jose didn’t let us sample this.
grind cocoa beans by hand and gave us an opportunity to try. This was followed by seeing the machine that now grinds them automatically.  From there it was on the really exciting room where the ground chocolate was processed into chocolate in varying percentages of cacao.  To make it really exciting there was even a bottle of

Waiting for us in the center of the room however was a bowl of cashews and small bit of freshly made chocolate.  Aimee, myself, and Jose lingered for quite a while munching on this.  Most of the chocolate made in this factory was very high percentage cacao chocolate, giving it a very rich, deep, dark taste. 

After seeing the process, we were brought back to the reception area/gift store/museum where Jose led us to a seating area.  Here we were provided with a small tray with two cups of coffee, and a bit of chocolate to enjoy with it. 

While we were relaxing and enjoying our chocolate, an older couple walked into the door in their late 50s or early 60s.  After looking around, they came and sat next to us and we talked a bit.  From their accents, I asked hesitantly if they were English, however, as soon as I asked, I thought I was probably wrong.  Sure enough they were from New Zealand.  I apologized and said I should have recognized the difference as I lived next to a Kiwi for 10 years when I lived outside of Chicago.  

Coffee and Chocolate

The couple was on a three-month trip, touring multiple countries in South America and Central America.   They talked about their trip which they were pretty much taking day by day, travelling mostly on public busses etc. from place to place.  They did say they spent a good deal of time moving along the pacific coast to multiple locations attempting to see the Arrivadas of the turtles.  We relayed our adventure seeking the turtles, lamenting that we didn’t get to see any.  They however did have some success and saw a few, although not the mass flotillas that occasionally can be seen. 

Aimee and I each fantasized verbally of having the time and resources to just wander a continent or two, following our daily whims for 3 months, with few time constraints or worry about schedules.  Perhaps someday…however we were snapped back to reality as Jose appeared somewhat hovering next to us trying to give the clear message of “it’s time to move on to the next part of the tour.”

Coffee and Chocolate Break

We bought some chocolate to bring back as souvenirs (and of course some to keep for ourselves…which may have had some Flor de Caña in them), and then headed back to the vehicle.

We were now off for the coffee part of our tour.  As we headed deeper into the countryside, Jose had our driver stop at a bit of a picturesque vantage point.  While we were admiring the view, I started thinking about all the coffee I drink.  If you spend enough time in the most common of the trendy US coffee shops, you’ll notice they do a lot of patting themselves on the back about fair trade coffee, social responsibility, and ethical sourcing.  I was curious what the local view of that was.  I asked Jose his thoughts.  He hesitated, and said “Do you want the truth?”  He went on to say that while they’ve certainly brought employment opportunities, that when it comes to fair trade, and providing good benefits to the farmers, they are somewhat lacking.  It was interesting that this was a common theme among business, from the cigar factory, to the chocolate factory, to the coffee industry.  There certainly seems to be a moral standard for employers to offer good benefits to their employees, in addition to simply a salary.  Clearly among coffee brewers, the largest of the US market was not at the top of the list in terms of good benefits for Nicaraguan farmers and workers.

We continued onward a bit further to the small village of La Corona (not to be confused with the cigar

Living Room

factory by the same name that we visited in Estelí).  We pulled up to a modest brick house in the village, parked, and went in.  On the front porch was a large table.  Nearby sat an elderly gentleman talking to some other men around our age.  Jose told us that before we headed out to the coffee tour we were going to be treated to some freshly made Pinolillo and lunch.  He introduced us to the woman that lived in the house named Juana. Her family worked on the coffee plantation, and attached to her house were actually two very basic rooms that could be rented for $5 a night, for visitors that wanted a deeper immersion into life on a coffee plantation. 

This was a fascinating moment for me.  As we had spent 6 days driving through villages and seeing the houses along the side of the road, which provided very different living conditions than the US, we were very curious to see what they looked like on the inside.  We had no idea that we’d be invited into one such home today, and allowed to help prepare Pinolillo.  We walked through the living room of the home, which had exposed brick walls with some pictures on them.  The living room contained a few rocking chairs, a dirt floor, and a small TV.  Past the living room, we walked through an indoor kitchen that had some wood and glass cabinets on the exposed brick wall, a table, and some counters for preparing food.  We continued through this room to an outdoor, though covered, kitchen with a large wood burning stove, that was lit.  Along the far end of this area was a sink which drained directly into an drainage ditch/open sewer around the outside of the house.

The Outdoor Kitchen

Here Jose and Juana showed us how corn and cacao beans are roasted to make pinolillo.  After roasting
these together on the wood burning stove, Jose then pulled out some cloves, fresh cinnamon sticks, and cumin.  The combination of all of these were put into a hand grinder.  Jose began grinding the mixture by hand, and was clearly exerting a lot of effort. I asked if I could help him out, and he assured me I had a turn coming.  After a few minutes he handed the job over to me. For 5-10 minutes I continued the tedious job of grinding the mixture together into a coarse powder.  Aimee took a turn as well, and I realized I was breaking quite a sweat.  After what seemed like way too long of a time to be preparing a simple drink we finally had everything ground.  Jose offered the bowl up to us to smell, and the smell was quite intriguing, and we were both excited to try it.

Roasting the Pinolillo

Ryan Helping Grind the Pinolill

Jose brought us back out to the table and had us sit down.  A few moments later, he came out with cups of steaming liquid and offered us each our very own Pinolillo to taste.  The flavor was not overpowering, but was complex with the various spices mixed into the concoction.  It reminded me a bit of horchata except warm and slightly chocolatey. 

While we were enjoying this, Jose and Juana began bringing out plates of all sorts of food, and a pitcher of fresh lemonade.  Jose preemptively assured us that all the drinks/dishes were made with purified water, and we didn’t need to worry about them.  Within a few minutes, we were surrounded by fried chicken, fried potato dumplings, rice, beans, and tomato salad.  Jose and our driver sat and joined us for a very tasty lunch. 

Lunchtime with Jose and our Driver

We had yet to even set foot on the coffee plantation, but already my day had been made by this awesome experience of spending time in a local home, cooking with a local family, and breaking bread with our new acquaintances.  This was awesome.  

The Corn Princess Showing off her Flower

After lunch was finished, a young girl in her late teens, whom I believe was Juana’s daughter arrived, and was to take us on the tour of the plantation.  She did not speak English though she spoke a fairly slow and crisp Spanish that I was able to understand fairly well. Nonetheless, Jose translated for us.   She wore a flower in her hair, and told us that they had a big festival at school that morning and she was voted the “corn princess.” 

As we toured the plantation, we saw how involved water management is in the process.  Jose explained that one of the downsides of coffee is that its production uses massive amounts of water, and that it ends up polluting the water.  As a result they’ve built into the process all sorts of methods of filtering the used water through the ground by storing it in pits in the ground to filter the organic waste material out of the water.

Additionally various vats or “pilas” are set up as reservoirs to capture the natural sources of water coming down the mountainside.  In order to get to the plantation, we had to cross one of these.  This pila had a 12 inch thick cement wall with about 4-5 feet deep water behind it fed from a stream.  This wall was about 15 feet long,

and had about an inch of water pouring over the top of it, and a 4 foot drop below into a stream that continued down the mountain.  Jose said we would need to cross this.  Aimee was a bit concerned about falling in or falling off.  Jose attempted to help by creating stepping stones on the wall, above the level of the running water.  These however ended up being more in the way than helping, and we cautiously walked across the top of the wall without their aid.

Shade Grown Coffee Plants

The plantation continued in many directions up and along the side of the mountains.  The coffee cherries are grown in the shade, so in and around all the coffee plants planted in perfect rows, are taller trees, banana plants, and other things that provide shade.  Also, these trees provide other crops that can provide an
economic safety net if there is a sudden drop in the price of coffee. 

Jose and the young girl explained the various levels of details that are considered in planting, cultivating, and harvesting the cherries, and keeping the plants healthy for multiple years.  From the fields we went to the pulping and fermenting building, and viewed the cement ducts and pilas where the fermented coffee was rinsed. 

Coffee Cherry and Bean

After the tour, we returned back to Juana’s house and had a cup of coffee and relaxed for a bit.  This gave us a bit of an opportunity to talk more with the rest of the family.  At one point the elderly man began talking

Ryan, Jose, and Ryan's new Friend

to me in Spanish.  He had the softspoken, raspy and mumbly voice typical of anyone that’s got 7 or 8 decades of experience at life.  I had an extremely difficult time understanding him, but we continued to try and talk nonetheless.  We talked a little bit about my family, and he talked a lot about his aches and pains.  At one point, he turned to one of the other younger men sitting in the area, and told them (in Spanish of course) that he had a new friend to talk to.

Aimee and Her New Friend

After our cup of coffee here, Jose and our driver took us back into the city of Matagalpa, to stop at a trendy local coffee shop (that catered to foreigners), that had an extensive menu of coffee drinks.  Aimee and I each had a refreshing frozen mocha drink, and talked with Jose.

Capybara!

We asked if he lived in Matagalpa.  He smiled and said that in Nicaragua, the big cities are where mostly the richer people live.  He then said that he however lives out in one of the villages outside of town.  

After our last coffee drink for the day, he took us back to the office, which was only a few minutes away.  We thanked him for being such a great companion over the last couple of days, wished him well, and bid him our final farewell.

We jumped back in our car to head back to Selva Negra to get cleaned up and grab dinner.  On the way
into our lodge, Aimee’s day turned even brighter as she looked over and about 50 feet away saw a capybara standing apprehensively in the lawn in front of one of the other lodges.  Her eyes opened wide like a kid in her favorite candy store as she tried to contain her excitement so as to not scare it away, but still get my attention and point it out to me.  After only a few moments however the capybara scampered off into the surrounding foliage.

Later we returned to the restaurant for dinner.  The restaurant had several Nicaraguan micro-brews from Erdmann’s I was excited to try these and throughout the evening tried one after another.  It began raining at one point, and we had to move from our table near the edge of the covered restaurant to a table further in.  30 minutes and a beer or two later, it began raining harder, and we had to move further in.  A couple beers later, and Aimee decided she was tired of watching me sample all the beers of Nicaragua and threatened to return to the room without me.  I decided that it was probably in my best interest to join her, so I quickly finished the beer in my hand and accompanied her back to our bungalow

Our Dinner View (before the rain)