Isla De Ometepe

Still sleep deprived from New Year's Eve celebrations, Nini and I pulled ourselves from bed before dawn, making an early start for Isla de Ometepe. The chicken bus ride to the port town of San Juan kept us awake as we each fought for room to stand in, never mind personal space. It was a relief to take advantage of the two hour ferry journey for a nap, as the bus trip to Playa Domingo once we reached the island was bumpier than the minimal bumpiness required to keep a tired person awake.

It was destined to be a lazy day, especially since the weather turned grey as soon as we arrived. The wind was incessant and cold, and sometimes a light sprinkling of rain would force us indoors. That evening, as Nini and I relaxed in the dorm, we talked about all the things we'd seen on our long trips and how it was about time that something happened to inspire another great blog entry.

Buses getting stuck in lava pits and other such disasters entered the conversation, but there was a brief pause before we both mutually agreed that any disaster to be evoked would have to exclude bodily injury and death.

I had never ridden a horse before and Nini wanted to see the petroglyphs nearby, so it was quickly decided that in the morning we would rent some horses to the petroglyphs. Perfect! What better opportunity to evoke disaster by putting two inexperienced riders in saddles? I wasn't entirely sure just how a disaster on horseback would not include some kind of bodily injury or death, but we forged ahead with the plan.

Evoking Disaster On Horseback

We hired a guide with the horses since we didn't know where the petroglyphs were, and the first five metres from the gate was almost a disaster in itself. Nini's horse decided that we were going to the Ojo de Agua instead and turned left, and mine went to follow. "Right!" our guide hollered. "Right!" So I pulled right and my horse stopped. "Don't pull the reins!" our guide said, and I wondered just how to steer the horse if I wasn't supposed to pull at all. But I got it started again and gently guided my horse right. At least, I thought I was gentle. Apparently, I told the horse to turn right... right back around and in the pen again!

Finally we were on our way, trotting along the sea cabbage strewn sands of Playa Domingo and breaking into a gallop occasionally. The beach and countryside were brilliant to ride through... until we rounded a corner at a trot just in time to see a large oxen bull escape the lasoo of a local cowboy.

"Stop! Turn back!" we heard our guide call. Nini and I stopped, and looked over our shoulders for our guide's... guidance. What we saw was the back end of his horse galloping off and disappearing back around the corner!

The bull came towards us, eyeing us off. He was lean and white, with thin sharp horns. He seemed undecided what to make of us, but in any case, he was alert and I felt that any wrong move might really spell disaster, spelt with a capital Death. I saw Nini shrink, like she was either cowering or bracing for impact, and I decided to trust in my horse's natural survival instinct to protect itself and run, taking me with it to safety.

The bull sized us up for what seemed like the longest twenty seconds, but decided we weren't worth the trouble and ran off. The cowboy pursued it on a little horse, and after they rounded the corner, our guide miraculously reappeared.

I would've been happy to blog just about that experience, but there was a little more in store for us.

We galloped along the beach, enjoying speeding through the wind and scaring the shit out of sun worshipping tourists who didn't see us coming. We flew past them.. and towards a low hanging tree branch.

Nini leaned to her side, but her shoulder caught the branch, nearly knocking her off. I ducked as low as I could while my horse followed, escaping bodily injury. Nini hadn't been as lucky. She copped grazes to her neck and shoulder, a decent bruising and felt lucky to have kept her shoulder in its socket. When our guide caught up, he said, "You should slow down when you see something like that..." Now he tells us! What brilliant guidance!

The rest of the way back was easy; our horses knew the way, but the side street off the beach was full of parked motorbikes, their owners gathered to one side, talking. When they saw us approach, all conversation ended and eyes scrutinized our every move. Nini's horse expertly found a way through the maze, and mine dutifully followed... closely. But not close enough.

I could see that I was going to clip a bike on the left and very gently led my horse a little the other way. But, too little, too late. The horse was clear, but my foot wasn't. In slow motion, the bike toppled and I could hear the men's groans starting. It didn't stop there - it fell against another, sending that one over as well, domino style. I heard the crunches as polished chrome ground on sandy concrete, and all I could offer was a helpless, "Lo siento!" over my shoulder as my horse innocently plodded along and away.

So even if disaster wasn't completely evoked (Nini will disagree, considering her injuries), at least it was an eventful and productive day; we got our blog entries. Read Nini's.