Moon rising over the mysterious island

The sound of the slow boat gently hummed as it parted the water on its way over Lake Nicaragua; old deck chairs lining the deck, too many people crammed all together, all vying for an ideal spot on the few hour journey from Granada to Ometepe, the volcanic island. From the corner of my eye I see an old lady, she is fighting with something in her bag, after what appears to be quite the struggle she pulls out a full sized hammock and sets about tying it up over the heads of people sitting on the floor; she then jumps into it over her neighbours with such agility I automatically turn to my friends to share my amazement; but upon gazing at them I could see that the chilled Central American vibes, the slow hum of the boat and the warm sun had taken control as they quietly napped.

I close my eyes and let the sound of the boat drift quietly into a meditative buzz, I must have fallen asleep as when I awoke the sun was dipping down low, I gazed to my left as my eyes fell upon my first glance of the volcanoes and the lush, thick jungle of Ometepe. The sun was dancing behind one of the two volcanoes, as it sunk lower it erupted the sky into a triage of reds, pinks and oranges, the water below it echoing the saturated colours above.

The boat slowly made its way to the shores of Ometepe coming to a halt at the docks as the sun finally licked the water and succumbed to the moon and the thick canopy of stars. Climbing off the boat we stood under the shadow of Volcán Concepción and Volcán Maderas as the sounds of the Howler Monkeys echoed through the jungle down to the dock, people crowded around a few cars, bustling for a place in one of the taxis which would take them across the island covered in darkness. We managed to secure one of the last taxis, quickly hopping in we sped off, our driver speaking little English and us speaking pigeon Spanish; we however found common ground in the universal language of laughter and good times. The driver sped through the jungle lined roads when suddenly to our right, behind one of the volcanic giants the full moon started to rise, larger than I had ever seen in my life, beautifully coloured and so close I almost wanted to reach out and touch it; the driver pulled over and the four of us stood in awe, illuminated by the full moon; the haunting sounds of the Howler Monkeys washing over us in waves, I knew, right then and there that Ometepe was going to be the most special trip I was to take.