Southern Exposure

Monday, December 29

We arose without a firm plan for the day. The holidays had introduced an artificially slow pace in our journey. We wanted to be in a city for New Year’s Eve, and since the rest of the world was also on vacation during these weeks, we had to make reservations in advance rather than our usual ad-hoc approach. We had decided upon Granada, which was only a half day’s ride from Estelí, but we weren’t due to arrive there for another day. This slow pace of travel for the holidays was becoming a little frustrating as we were rarely putting in a full day’s ride. This was also a by product of Central America – if you ride for an entire day you just skipped an entire country.

We went to a cafe from the night before. It was run by a non-profit organization that provides services to the co-op that runs the Miraflores reserve and agricultural zone. This area contains highlands and cloud forests and the co-op has a home stay tourist program where the local farmers can host a few people on their land as well as provide guides to tour the landscape. We decided rather than go east to see the Selva Negra, a high altitude pine forest, we would spent a night in Miraflores.

The road to Miraflores would be our first real off pavement expedition of the trip. It was impressive that we had made it this far without having to leave pavement for any significant stretches, but neither Inna nor I have any real experience in dirt riding so we don’t seek it out. The road began as a rocky dirt road from the moment we left the gas station. We proceeded cautiously at first, getting a feel for the conditions under our heavy bikes. The road began to climb and we were quickly rewarded with sweeping views of the area.

As we climbed higher through the hills, the vegetation began to change. The lower foothills we were in were a dryer climate, and the trees were draped in long sheets of hanging moss like an old man’s beard. The fields were littered with boulders covered in lichens and dried yellow grasses. The landscape was becoming more lush and although the road was still dry, at the bottom of each ravine we had to cross standing water.

The landscape became greener with each elevation gain, and soon we were entering the lower cloud forest. We were only a few kilometers from our lodging for the night when a large truck passed us going downhill. It was a large Mercedes lorry, and the chest high wheels were absolutely caked in fresh mud. Inna and I saw that mud and gave each a look of “Wow” (that’s the censored version). As the forest became denser and greener, the road became muddier.

We crossed one particularly muddy water crossing, and then road began to climb steeply. As you would expect if you were voluntarily riding into a cloud forest, rain began to fall, steadily increasing with each meter we traveled. We came to a sharp right turn in the road. The truck had dug deep ruts here in the inside of the turn and as I came to the apex of the turn and saw the steep hill ahead of us, I stopped to reconsider.

This was a big mistake, as the thin layer of mud over rocks behaved much like ice. The front wheel began to slide sideways downhill and only through great effort could I hold the bike steady. The hill was very steep and muddy. We probably could have made it up the hill, but it was unlikely either of us had the skill to maneuver these heavy KLRs back down the hill. The rain was now a pour and the hill was only getting increasingly slippery.

We decided we had gotten what we wanted out of this expedition and maneuvered to turn out, which was a huge pain. The bikes slid quite freely if you allowed them to back down at more than a speed of an inch per year. Inna was behind me, so she maneuvered her bike so that it pointed downhill, and then sped off bumping crazily through the rocks and mud, not wanting to apply too much brake in case it would trigger a slide and fall.

She came back to help me stabilize the bike and to take pictures of our situation. We got the blue KLR turned around and we were on our way back down. The mud crossing before the main road had become much deeper, but we powered through it. The experience really put a new meaning to the word micro-climate, because within 2 miles we were out of the rain and back on dry ground. There is no other place to stay up in the highlands, so it was back down for us.

As disappointing as it was not to have our stay in the cloud forest, it was still a beautiful ride. The experience in mud paid off immediately as we rode down with much greater confidence and rode the rocky road at least twice as fast as we rode up it. It didn’t hurt that we were both still wearing our warm weather gear and were soaked through. When we got to the back to the main highway, we agonized over riding down to Leon. Neither of us really wanted to spend another night in Estelí, but it was 4:30 pm in the afternoon and we’d never make it down before dark. We played it conservative and checked back into our same hotel for the night.