The Rio San Juan forms a natural border between Nicaragua and Costa Rica. There is an ongoing, complicated past between the two countries involving the river, its use and ownership. Nicaraguans are adamantly patriotic about the river, while Costa Rica is building a multi-lane highway on the other side of it for no apparent reason. It was the original location of the canal that would link the two oceans; however, Panama won.
The Rio is about 100 km long (it is often better to measure distance in time – it takes about 12 – 14 hours to steam the river, and most towns and farms are only accessible by boat). We originally thought about going the whole length of the river, but after consulting a few people and realizing 12 hours in a slow river boat (each way) would be quite a journey, we settled on staying in El Castillo (about halfway up the river).
Step 4: San Carlos (the gateway to the Rio)
After two weeks in Nicaragua, and several days in transit, we arrived in San Carlos at 5am on the carnival ferryboat. The overnight ferry ride was long, but in fact it was a best-case scenario: no wind, no waves, clear skies, and a relaxing night on the upper deck. So, I guess having the bananas on the boat may not be such a bad thing. San Carlos is a small town in a bit of a swampy area at the convergence of Lake Nicaragua and the Rio and is busy with many transient people and goods. San Carlos is the gateway to the Rio, and a bit of a hellhole. This was the beginning of the specific area for which we had taken the horrific chloroquine (malaria pills), so it was a little intense getting off the boat, wondering if we were going to be mugged by a swarm of mosquitoes.
It is always amazing how when you finish red eye travel, no matter what type of mode of travel, you feel like such a useless bag of shit. Everyone is a little edgy and just wants to find a rock to hide under for a couple of hours. The four of us studied the cartoon map we had for a solid five minutes only to realize that the town was a 5 x 5 square of streets and we really only needed to walk down one side of the square and then up the other side and we would find our cool rock to crawl under. The feeling of horror cannot be overstated when we got to a dodgy little hotel to find out that the guy at the front desk couldn’t find our reservation. Doug and John were doing Rock-Paper-Scissors to figure out who was going to carry Catherine away from the hotel guy if she decided to go gorilla over the lack of reservation. It seemed like a miracle when the guy behind the counter said “ahhhh, si senora, tengo una reservacion para ti!!!” The guy had definitely figured out that at 5:30 in the morning it was a good idea to be ready to pull some sleepy people out of their rooms to ensure that Catherine didn’t pull him through the little window hole separating them. Our rooms were closets, but they had fans and running water…well, running water, but there was actually no showerhead in our bathroom. I came out of the bathroom asking Catherine “How do you say ‘someone stole the showerhead’ in Spanish?” The water poured out of the pipe like a garden hose. We also realized we had some interesting roommates when we met the cockroach family in the same bathroom and wondered if they were responsible for the missing showerhead. It would have been a big job, but these ones seemed up for the challenge. We stayed long enough to decide we didn’t need to stay any longer, and booked our trip up the river.
Step 5: Arrival at El Castillo on the Rio San Juan
The more we travel, the lower our expectations have become about the type of trains, planes, automobiles, or boats that we encounter. So we figured the next ride was going to be interesting. We knew we were taking a “slow, collective” boat down the river, but when we arrived in the port office where we would depart from, there was easily 40-60 people waiting for the boat. Looking outside, it seemed like there was a half dozen launches (small open boats) waiting, but none really looked like they could fit more than 20. After awhile we got in line and gave our names, passport numbers and tickets to the guy with the AK-47 (side note – this was the first time out of 12 during the trip; the Nicaraguan government is very precise in their documentation of everyone’ movement so now everyone has memorized their passport number) and went to the dock where we found a wood and fiberglass boat with maybe enough seats for 30, about 6 feet wide with a single engine way in the back. So our bags went on the roof of the cabin (not tied down) and we took our seats. We took bets on the bags making it and John went back to try to tie them down to the roof like it was a station wagon on a comedic family adventure. A short while later he came back with good and bad news. The good news: the bags were tied together. The bad news: Mr. AK-47 told him to go back below before he was able to tie the bags to the deck basically creating a chain of bags so that if one went over, all would follow. John’s sliver lining to the situation was that he left 50 feet of free line with them so at least they would be easy to recover from a river that was only 30 feet deep.
Within 2 minutes of his return the heavens opened up and it started to pour. Good times! At least that would add some weight to the bags. After a deep breath we started down the river that we had travelled so far to see. There were small shacks on both side of the river and people and a variety of livestock here and there. The boat made stops all along the river based on peoples’ needs and it was amazing to see how the skipper operated this boat on the fast flowing river to touch the shore, get people and cargo off and on-loaded and back on track heading down stream. It was a very relaxed trip and people were great. After about 4 hours we finally reached El Castillo, our base camp for the river for the next week. There were many houses and buildings on wooden pylons along the river and people everywhere. Kids were jumping off the government dock into the strong current of the river and playing games within feet of the boats coming and leaving from the wharf. By this time we were less concerned about the mosquitoes and more concerned about where to find a cold beer. It works out that most tourist areas are spraying for mosquitoes and it was not that much of a concern.
So, finally on Rio, we were all wondering if it was going to live up to the hype as a fishing and nature-watching destination. This was definitely a one road town. There were no cars or even golf carts. In fact, we later found out that there was only one motorcycle, and the rest of the town had basically shunned the owner. The street was full of small dogs and kids playing everywhere. We walked down to our hotel and found that it was a really cool spot with a balcony with hammocks overlooking the river. We decided a beer was in order to celebrate our arrival and within 5 minutes of entering the restaurant on the river, Catherine was talking to some local fishermen, followed by us waving to Doug from our perch at the restaurant as he went out into the white rapids in a small open boat with a couple local guys. Now Doug doesn’t speak much Spanish and these guys didn’t speak English, but they all spoke fishing. That was until we saw them out in the river casting a net from the boat and like a seen from Borat, one of the guys took off his shorts; obviously he did all of his important fishing in bright white speedos. It was a classic moment for all of us…except Doug.
After Doug’s successful return we organized a fishing trip for the next day with a guy who knew a guy. We were up at 5:30 the next morning getting ready for an episode of the deadliest catch, episode “Tarpon”. It was a great boat and a great crew. We started trawling for tarpon off the edge of town and realized that location was going to be by far the best place to catch one after we had a couple of bites in the first hour. Doug even got one on the hook and we knew for sure after we saw this giant silver beast crest out of the water attempting to rid itself of the hook. We headed up river and took a tour of some of the different areas and to see some more wildlife. We met some monkeys, turtles, and stopped for a little more fishing. John managed to hook a mini tarpon that was about 2 lbs. It was the prize of the day, followed by the catch and release.
Oh, also it also rains every day on the Rio. I guess it is supposed to be one of the wettest places on the planet. No doubt.
The next adventure was a trip into the rainforest for a wildlife tour. We needed to stop and get permission to go into the wildlife reserve. This was amazing because we were met by a solider with an AK-47 and a spider monkey name Daniela. Not sure who was in charge, but I was not about to ask that question. We were able to hang with the monkey; we met a second baby monkey named Junior a short while later. This monkey was so nice and quite…until…no one told us the monkeys are often afraid of cameras. Catherine took out a camera and Junior went “monkey” on her. It turned into a wild beast, hissing and screaming and started to run up her leg until one of the soldiers told him to back off. It was a bit shocking and reminded us that these were wild animals. This didn’t keep John from laughing his ass off.
The jungle was rainy, like a scene from Platoon or Tour of Duty. Most of all it was almost claustrophobic to be so surrounded by the jungle. It seemed to be more intense with each survival tip that our 5 foot lady tour guide with a 3 foot machete provided for us…”so if you are lost in the dark jungle and are curled up in a fetal looking for your mama, well she is not coming to get you, you should bang on a particular type of tree because it echoes really well” or “eat a leave that was like novicane made you whole mouth go number”…I can’t exactly remember which. We got to see some more wildlife and we were often up to the tops of our boots in mud. We saw some tiny poison dart frogs, and a variety of birds. One of the creepiest things was to learn about bullet ants. These things are over an inch long and if they bite you, it supposedly feels like you have been shot with a bullet and you are potentially down for up to 24 hours. Craziness.
So…The Fishing Story…
The last day on the Rio, only a few hours before we were scheduled to leave, Doug wanted to take another shot at the famous tarpon before we left, like a hunter from a Hemmingway book or a Jaws movie since these fish are often 130 plus lbs. Deadliest Catch episode “Tarpon” take 2. We had to book a different guide this time and it was a little less professional, not very organized, and they were pretty bad boat handlers. So after about an hour Doug looked like he was ready to call it a day after the boat driver tangled all of the lines for a second time. Then it happened. My reel started screaming and then it stopped. I was pretty sure whatever was on it was gone, until it started going again and I was reeling in like a madman trying to catch up to the fish. Oh, and their equipment sucked, especially the reel. I was still not positive that anything was on the hook and it could have been that the line was caught on the bottom. It was not moving at all and I couldn’t pull it in. Then it really happened. A giant fish jumped out of the water about 100 feet away and he was on my hook. Again I started reeling in again and the fish started dragging the little boat into the white rapids. This thing was smart and the fish knew the best way to get rid of a couple of people in a boat: drown them in the rapids.
I was still reeling when we all looked at each other and knew that we were going to the rapids no matter what happened. Minutes later the boat was full of water and waves were crashing over the rail and I just kept reeling in. Somehow in all of that it felt like Adam Sandler was in my head saying “Just reel it in, just reel it in”. After about another 15 minutes we were close with the big fish beside the boat. I looked at him in his giant eye and ask our guides if we were going to be able to release the modern dinosaur. The guide gave me a look like I just ask a doctor if the patient was going to make it. The hook was deep in the throat of the fish and stuck. This was most likely the reason why he was not able to release the hook after jumping clear of the water more than 6 times. Doug got a second line on the giant and we keep reeling it in. So after a while we were able to get the fish into the boat. It took up half of the boat and was still floundering. I was speechless.
We took it back to the shore where the army guys needed to inspect it to ensure that it was properly assessed and could not have been released. Doug, being a seasoned fisherman, had already confirmed that there was no way it would have made it. That acknowledgement made me feel a little better. The whole town was aware of what happened as most of them watched for the shore. It works out that people come from all over the world to fish tarpon and I was one of the lucky ones to hook one. A guy came running up asking about the type of line I used, the strategy, and how I did it. I walked back to our hotel with people coming out and congratulating me. I have not really fished since I was a kid in Cape Breton and I was pretty sure I had just killed a dinosaur. Sometimes it’s just about luck and now I guess I have a fishing story. We all sat on the veranda of the hotel drinking Flora de Cana and smoking a cigar wondering how everything happened so fast after almost a week of wishing for the fight. It was actually over so fast. Within a couple of hours we packing and getting ready to leave.
For Doug’s version of the Fishing Story and more, click here
El Castillo and the Rio included delicious giant shrimp the size of lobster (minus the claws), 24 hour power outages, and giant fish that deserved to have a story written about them. The people from the river area had legitimately welcoming friendly smiles that belonged in a southern blues and they had the pride from some Cape Breton folk song. An ancient Spanish fort and heritage provided the backbone. It was a town with an amazing story and that was almost the center of a canal that would have connected the Atlantic to the Pacific, but instead, it seems like people are content with just being themselves and hopefully that will be the case for a long, long time.
As we started back up the river in the open wooden boat, it was difficult to think that everything just happened in less then a week, and more then that, it had only been hours since my fight with a 140 lb sardine. The people of El Castillo were amazing and more importantly they were real. No, they were really real. They have not yet been overridden by tourists nor dreamed of turning their little town into the next Disneyland. They have such an honest nature and love for how they live that it is inspiring. Both children and adults are still taken aback by tourists and are curious but reserved. Baseball games still happen on Thursdays and everyone is invited. Children still ask you to take their pictures. It is very easy to talk to people and participate with them in parts of their daily lives.
On the way up the river, I didn’t notice that there were a lot of oranges in the water until we turned the corner; a barge had sunk at the dock with a truck full of oranges on it. There were boys in the water trying to corral the oranges when a bunch of guys on our boat started calling for oranges. The next thing we knew, our boat was being bombarded by dozens of oranges and everyone was laughing and enjoying the moment, acting like they were ten years old.
We returned to San Carlos with a different take on the world, we had seen the best that Nicaragua had to offer on the river; healthy ecosystems that are protected, a river with prehistoric residents, a town that is willing to give up the hunger for tourism to maintain a state of happiness and a proud people. We walked through the town looking at an environment and people struggling to develop and satisfy both travelers and a government unclear of the development direction that it is going to take. We still needed to avoid the potholes on every street and sidewalk, as well as the pitfalls of the town that is trying to be too much, but El Castillo and the river will always make us all smile when we think about Nicaragua and the amazing experience that we ended up having after our long journey.
“We emerged from the bar when the Flor de Cana was gone, and strolled down the street…The night sky was full of stars, but if you kept looking up at them you were in serious danger of falling down one of the many holes in the road.” (The Jaguar Smile, Salman Rushdie, 1987)
