Due North True North

“It’s the best thing you’ll do in Nicaragua,” I had been told. “But the roads are terrible - like the surface of the moon,” everyone said, as if they’d recently returned from outer space. Experiencing the best of Isla Ometepe, the dual-volcano island that rises nearly a mile high out of Lake Nicaragua, was going to require use of a motorbike with knobby tires.

My motorbike rental agent was Romulo, a Nicaragüense in his late 20s with dental braces that were long overdue for removal - the metal brackets were still affixed to his teeth, but the connecting wire was missing. I met him on a sunny, humid morning at his shop in the lackluster port town of Moyogalpa to pick up the bike.

Before I was granted rental (US $25/day plus fuel), I’d have to pass a proficiency test. Romulo and I mounted a royal blue Yamaha and sped down the road to a slightly overgrown football pitch. We stopped, he killed the engine and dismounted.

“Start it.” I hit the red starter to no effect, and again to the same. With furrowed brow, I glared downward. This was obviously the bike’s fault. Romulo shook his head and reached across me, disengaging the kill switch on the handlebar. “Start it now.” I turned the engine over for the first time ever - I’d never ridden a proper motorbike before! “Now ride it.” I attempted to engage the clutch and unceremoniously, repeatedly stalled out the engine. I laughed nervously, emasculated.

I managed a slow, wobbly circuit around the field. “You’re not going to make it on the motorcycle. You should take a scooter instead.” But a scooter couldn’t get me to the true gems of the island. Proudly, I took the motorbike anyway. Romulo shrugged.

The first part was easy. I whizzed by the southern slope of Volcán Concepción (5,282') on paved roads and felt brave, happy. Conditions and my mood changed considerably when I turned to circle Volcán Maderas (4,573’) to the south.

What was tarmac was now an ever-changing mix of mud rutted with deep truck tire tracks, loose gravel and broken concrete - unfamiliar, somewhat terrifying terrain for a first-timer. Afraid but resolute, I trusted my gut and maintained my momentum and nerve through the tricky passages. It worked. A mild flow state washed over me.

By day’s end I’d tell Romulo of the challenging uphill ride to Maderas’ waterfall and dip in its cool waters, my inspection of ancient petroglyphs, my protracted conversations with howler monkeys, and most importantly, the complete lack of damage to the Yamaha.