9 - 23 January 2024

• 9 Jan - Santa Rosa de Lima, El Salvador to Nacaome, Honduras (32.6 mi, 52.5 km)

• 10 Jan - Nacaome to Choluteca, Honduras (32.7 mi, 52.6 km)

• 11 Jan - Choluteca, Honduras to Somotillo, Nicaragua (33.0 mi, 53.1 km)

• 12 Jan - Somotillo to Miralago, Nicaragua (66.1 mi, 106.4 km)

• 13 Jan - Miralago to Managua, Nicaragua (42.5 mi, 68.4 km)

• 14-17 Jan - Layover in Managua, Nicaragua

• 18 Jan - Managua to Granada, Nicaragua (28.2 mi, 45.4 km)

• 19-22 Jan - Layover in Granada, Nicaragua

• 23 Jan - Granada to Rivas, Nicaragua (42.7 mi, 68.7 km)

Crossing the Border Into Honduras

It was a gorgeous, cloudless morning as we departed from Santa Rosa de Lima (in El Salvador) and cycled towards the border of Honduras. 

During our previous day of cycling, we had finally descended out of the Central American Highlands, and onto the broad coastal plain that borders the Pacific Ocean throughout Honduras and Nicaragua. The terrain became a series of long, low-slung hills that were far easier to ride than the steep mountains of the highlands. As a result, we quickly covered the 10+ miles (16+ km) from Santa Rosa de Lima to the border. 

We arrived at the El Salvador immigration office before 9am, and were very glad to see that it was already open. Our luck continued when both the El Salvador departure and Honduras arrival processes went smoothly. In both cases the lines were short and moved quickly - which was great because we had heard that it can be very crowded, and that entry into Honduras can take a couple of hours. Perhaps our early arrival at the border was a factor. Whatever the reason, we managed to pass through both immigration offices in half an hour.

As we were preparing to leave the Honduran immigration office, we were approached by a money changer. We had already exchanged our cash, and told him so. To our surprise, he was actually more interested in our bikes. It turned out that José was an avid cyclist, and that he hoped to ride a bicycle to Argentina some day. He even joked that he would like to buy our bikes from us when we finish our ride in Patagonia. 

José had lived in California for 10+ years and he spoke very good English, so it was easy and fun to talk with him. We asked him if he ever had problems with thieves, since he walked around waving a big wad of cash for his currency exchange business. He said that he’d never had any problems, and the area nearby was particularly safe. We were glad to hear that because Honduras has a reputation for being one of the least safe countries in Central America. That was a great welcome to the country.

From the border we hustled through the final two hours to our hotel. The first thing we noticed was that the roads in Honduras were even better for cycling than El Salvador. The road margin was paved and very wide - often having as much as two meters of space. One of the biggest improvements was that the road shoulder was also clean of debris and gravel. In El Salvador, even when there was a wide shoulder it often was littered with glass, shards of metal, old pieces of radial tires with wires sticking out, and various other tire-busting debris. It was awesome to be able to relax, and not have to focus too much on the road conditions. 

By 10am it was already very hot. On top of that, there was hardly any shade available from the low, dry-land trees with tiny leaves. When we finally arrived at the town of Nacaome (pop. 21,300) the temperature was up to 98F (36.6C) and we were feeling a bit dehydrated. It was wonderful to finally get away from the intense sun. But even though we checked into one of the better hotels in town, it still had only cold water in the shower. In fact, very few hotels in either Honduras or Nicaragua would have heated water. So we quickly adapted by taking our showers soon after arrival, in the heat of the afternoon.

Big Rivers Across a Hot, Dry Land

The next morning as we cycled out of town, we were greeted by the sight of a giant iguana statue by the side of the road. It seemed like a playful mascot for the town, and a great way to greet visitors just arriving from El Salvador.

By now the landscape around us had completely changed into lowland, dry forests. Most of the land was being used as pasture, with fields of grass turning rapidly from green to brown. The grasslands were dotted with the scrubby, thorny trees that do well in arid landscapes. And every so often we would cross another wide, shallow river meandering among gravelly shoals. 

The ongoing, excellent condition of the road margin meant that we could relax a little bit. For the first time in a while, we felt completely safe stopping along the side of the road whenever we spotted something interesting.

About an hour into our ride we stopped for breakfast at a roadside convenience store near the big town of San Lorenzo. And we have to say that the convenience stores in Honduras were a cyclist’s dream compared to what we had become used to in Central America. The vast majority of them were very modern, with air conditioning, and often with indoor seating. Given the blistering heat outside, these stores were much-appreciated oases where we could rest, rehydrate, and cool off. 

They did have one significant downside. All the convenience stores seemed to come with bored private security guards, many of whom were very particular about where bicycles should be allowed to park. We will not leave our bikes where we can’t keep an eye on them, which means we need to be able to leave them close to the store entrance and where they are visible through the glass storefronts while we are inside. But some of the guards felt the need to exert their authority by refusing to let us keep our bikes where we could see them. 

As a result, we actually bypassed a few stores because we didn’t want to spend a bunch of time having a long discussion with a security guard about where to leave our bikes in a sweltering parking lot after a long hot ride. 

After our stop in San Lorenzo, we still had 2.5 hours of cycling to go and the heat was oppressive. The temperature was ‘only’ 96F (35.5C), but with no clouds and the heat radiating up from the black-top, it felt a lot hotter. Within an hour after breakfast we were dragging again. Even with the help of an electrolyte drink and a sit-down break by the side of the road, PedalingGal struggled with a headache, nausea and dizziness.

Fortunately, the miles passed quickly over the relatively flat landscape. We also were lucky that there wasn’t very much wind. If it hadn’t been for the heat, the cycling would have been easy. We were absolutely delighted that when we arrived in the small city of Choluteca (pop. 100,000), we were able to check into an air conditioned room right away.

The Road to Nicaragua

On the way out of Choluteca, the highway was lined with billboards touting Honduras’s huge shrimp industry. Shrimp is one of the country’s top five products by revenue. Most of it is raised in artificial ponds bordering the nearby Gulf of Fonseca. Nearly 25,000 people work directly for the industry, and it accounts for nearly 80% of the economy in the region surrounding Choluteca.

We had managed to get out on the road before sunrise. In the pre-dawn light, we were thrilled when a great black hawk flew across the road in front of us and landed in a nearby thicket of mangroves. Much more rare than its close relative - the common black hawk - this species sticks mostly to wet forests, marshes and mangroves (like the ones that grow near Choluteca).

For the next couple of hours we rolled along quickly through the rural countryside. Homes and villages tended to cluster around rivers and streams, where there was enough water to support small-scale farming and groves of tropical trees. Cattle were ubiquitous in the dry grasslands between towns, but also, occasionally, in the front yards of homes.

As we drew closer to the border with Nicaragua, we came to a police checkpoint. As a general rule, these checkpoints only focus on motor vehicles. We had passed four or five of them in the previous couple of days, and were always waived through without stopping. So it was a bit of a surprise when one of the officers motioned to us that we should stop and move to a shady spot on the side of the road.

Two of the guards then came over and proceeded to ask us a bunch of questions, like where we had traveled and how long we had been on the road. One of the guards leisurely sifted through all the items in PedalingGal’s handlebar bag. We got the strong impression that he was just curious about what she might be carrying - occasionally holding up one of the items for his colleague to see. Pretty soon it felt like more of a ‘visit’ than a police check.

After about 15 minutes, we finally suggested that we would like to continue our journey before the day got too hot. No problem, they said we could be on our way. As we headed down the road, PedalingGuy remarked that they seemed like they were just bored and looking for a way to pass the time by talking to the pair of unusual travelers on bikes.

It was just a 20 minute ride from there to the border. We had spent just 2.5 days in Honduras.

When we arrived at the border, several people told us we had to stand in a very long line that extended from inside the immigration office to about 30 meters down the road on the outside. So we did. But something didn’t seem right. We had the feeling that most of the other people in the line were entering Honduras, not leaving it. We double checked with someone wearing a uniform, and he also told us to wait in the long line. The best thing you can do at these border crossings is ask lots of questions since there are rarely informative signs or someone directing you to where you should go.

For 5-10 minutes the line crept forward almost imperceptibly. Then a young boy - about 10-11 years old - approached us and asked if we were going to Nicaragua. When we said ‘yes,’ he told us we didn’t need to wait in the long line - just as we suspected. He said we could simply enter the building and go up to a different service window - one that had only a couple of people in line. The boy seemed to be part of a contingent of locals that sold various products to people crossing the border. We were very glad he noticed our plight and had offered that bit of advice. PedalingGuy asked the boy to watch our bikes while we went inside.

There were only two people ahead of us at that point, but we still ended up waiting another 5-10 minutes. When we finally made it to the front of the line, the exit process took just a couple of minutes, with no questions asked and no fee. We were thrilled. That kid probably saved us hours of waiting. We were glad to give him a tip for helping direct us and watching the bikes. Hopefully it will inspire him to help others.

As with most of the other borders we had crossed in Central America, we cycled across a bridge over a river that marks the border between the two countries. On the far side, Nicaragua had one of the most elaborate welcome signs we had seen since entering Guatemala.

Then we began our odyssey through Nicaraguan immigration. The entry process is famously slow, with an impressive amount of bureaucracy. There isn’t anyone there to describe all the steps. You just have to figure it out as you go. We saw quite a few foreigners who hired “facilitators” to guide them through the process. But what fun is that? You miss out on the grand sport of bureaucratic orienteering. Here is the process, as we experienced it:

• First stop - a kiosk by the road at the far end of the bridge, where a lady took photos of our passports. 

• Second stop - we were sent to the immigration processing window. But when we got to the front of the line, the officer at the window told us we had to go back outside to have a ‘health check.’

• Third stop - a woman dressed like a nurse didn’t do anything to check our health. Instead she took our passports and spent the next ten minutes typing a bunch of information from the passports into a computer. She also asked us a couple of questions about where we had come from and where we were going, but nothing out of the ordinary.

• Fourth stop - back to the immigration service window. Although we didn’t have to do much besides wait, the process for the immigration officer seemed very convoluted. She filled out a bunch of forms by hand, and checked some information on her computer (probably the information that was just entered by the ‘nurse’). Then she took our passports and disappeared into a back room. She was gone for what seemed like an unusually long time, and we started to wonder if there was a problem. But eventually another guy who looked like a supervisor approached us. He wanted to make sure we were aware that we only had nine days left on our CA-4 visas - which we were. Satisfied that we understood we had to cross Nicaragua within those nine days, he handed things back to the original lady. We paid an entrance fee of US$13 each (which can only be paid in cash using fresh US dollars, not in the local currency or by credit card), and the officer filled out a receipt for our payment in triplicate. Finally, she stamped and handed us our passports, our copy of the receipt, and a small piece of paper with a number and her initials. She then instructed us to go to customs. Not knowing where customs was, we walked in the direction she had indicated and started asking around.

• Fifth stop - inside an adjacent building around the corner there was a desk occupied by several officials, and a couple of luggage scanning machines. The only bags we brought inside were our handlebar bags and backpacks. The rest of our bags (all the panniers that were attached to the bikes) were left outside and not checked by anyone. One of the guys fired up the scanner and put our bags through. Another guy opened PedalingGal’s handlebar bag and looked through it - the second time today. It seemed like everything was good. But then one of the guys asked if we had another small piece of paper (a ‘papelito’) from the immigration office. Nope. We didn’t have any other papers. We asked the guy what it should look like, and the guy showed us one with someone else’s name on it. PedalingGal took a photo of it and ran back to the immigration office to ask. PedalingGuy stayed with our stuff in the customs building while she was off to hunt down the missing ‘papelito.’

• Sixth stop - back at the immigration window the lady seemed to have been expecting one of us to return. She handed PedalingGal the missing paper, which had a printout of our identification information. She must have realized that she forgot to give it to us.

• Seventh stop - back at customs. The officer in the customs building took the ‘papelitos’ from us and scribbled some information on the back, including what appeared to be his signature. We were also asked if we had any drones, which are illegal in Nicaragua. We don’t carry a drone but we have heard of others who had them confiscated. At that point, we were told that we had completed the processing, and that the final step was to hand the ‘papelito’ to one more guy down the road.

• Eighth and final stop - at another blue kiosk by the side of the road that pointed into Nicaragua, we handed our passports and all of the paperwork to the final guard. After checking the papers, he kept the one that the guy from customs had written on, then sent us on our way. We were done!

The whole process, including both Honduran and Nicaraguan immigration, took about two hours. By that time the day was getting quite hot. We hustled as fast as we could to the town of Somotillo (pop. 35,050), dreaming of air conditioning.

Upon arriving in town, one thing really stood out - the number of bicycles and push-pedal taxis. Gasoline and electricity are both very expensive in Nicaragua, especially with respect to local incomes. As a result, the car ownership rate is lower than most other countries in the Americas, and car usage is even lower. As a corollary to that, many more people ride bicycles. These are generally very utilitarian bikes that look like they have been passed down for generations and not washed in almost as long a time. Rusty chains and frames are common. The huge advantage of these bikes is that the owners rarely need to lock them up, and they are great for trips around town.

We tend to avoid staying in border towns but sometimes you don’t have much choice if the next town down the road is too far away or the border crossing too slow. In this case both were true. Border towns are often a little rough around the edges, so we didn’t have high expectations.

There were a couple of hotels/hostals in Somotillo, but only one was worth considering. The Hotel Las Fronteras had a breezy, open-air lobby in the front, and a cluster of rooms around a small courtyard in the back. When we arrived a woman who spoke perfect English was just checking out. We learned that she had lived in the USA for many years, and now worked for a shipping company based in Managua. She would visit Somotillo a couple of times a month to meet an import truck at the border and handle the customs paperwork. She told us she always stayed at the Hotel Las Fronteras, and always booked the same room. In her opinion, it was the best room the town had to offer. That was just what we needed to hear, and we quickly requested to have the room she was leaving once it was cleaned.

But saying that this was the best room Somotillo had to offer is not the same thing as saying it was fancy. Quite the contrary. The room was tiny, with two beds crammed in. There was not enough room for the bikes, which had to remain outside in the courtyard. (In truth, there was almost no room to walk around, either.) The bathroom was a cinder block closet, with only a plastic curtain separating it from the rest of the room (no door). There was no sink - the sink was outside and shared with other guests. Water came out of the shower head in a trickle. And the manager didn’t want to let us turn on the air conditioning until 6pm (presumably to save on his electric bill). However, PedalingGal begged and pleaded, and he finally relented, so we did have the comfort of a cool room. Finally, the electrical wiring was exposed around the only socket in the room, which did not give us a lot of confidence. Besides the air conditioning, the best thing about the room was that there was a fairly big grocery store next door, so it was easy to keep stocked with cold drinks.

Steaming Mountains and a Big Lake

The next day we had a particularly long ride planned. At 66+ miles (106+ km), it would be our longest day of cycling since the big ride into Oaxaca.  

In anticipation, we woke up well before dawn and hit the road around 6am. But only one block from our hotel we both noticed that our tires felt a bit soft, which is not ideal for a long ride on pavement. By the side of the road we discovered that PedalingGuy’s back tire and PedalingGal’s front tire were really low on pressure. So we pumped up those two tires. Finally, around 6:15am, we were heading down the road.

On the far edge of town we cycled over the El Gallo River on a high bridge. Below us, some guys were out in the water, swishing the dirt, with some buckets on the river bank nearby. We wondered if they were panning for gold. Nicaragua is the top producer of gold in Central America (not including Mexico), and thousands of men make a living in the ‘artisanal’ or informal gold mining business. Right below us another guy had driven his ox cart into the river, and was loading it with smooth river rocks, probably for sale in landscaping.

We had been on the road for less than an hour when a gorgeous sight came into view. The steaming cone of the San Cristóbal Volcano - one of Nicaragua’s six active volcanos - rose out of the landscape to our south. Unlike Guatemala’s volcanos that are situated within a very mountainous region, Nicaragua’s volcanos thrust upwards out of a relatively flat plain. Consequently, the San Cristóbal Volcano’s 5,725 ft (1,745 m) peak stands almost alone. It has been erupting regularly since the 1600s, most recently blanketing nearby towns with ash in 2021. And its constant emissions of steam and sulphur dioxide have kept the higher slopes virtually free of vegetation.

It was hot and windy, but fortunately the terrain was pretty mellow. For long stretches, the road was practically flat. The first 30 miles flew by. But after nearly three hours of cycling, the heat began to assert its power. Pretty soon we were stopping regularly in the meager shade to cool off and stay hydrated. 

Around 4.5 hours into the ride we caught sight of the second active volcano of the day - Momotombo. Standing right on the edge of Lake Managua, the Momotombo Volcano is shorter than San Cristóbal by about 325 ft (100 m), but it’s probably more famous. Its notoriety stems partly from its proximity to Managua (the capital and largest population center in the country), but also from its nearly perfect symmetrical cone. The image of Momotombo is practically a national symbol, showing up on souvenirs and murals throughout the country. The volcano was dormant for 110 years before erupting spectacularly in 2015 - when a large ash plume rose into the sky for several days, and lava flowed down the northern and eastern flanks of the mountain.

We arrived in the tiny town of Miralago (pop. 150) in the middle of the afternoon, tired and thirsty. Although the only hotel in town was definitely low budget, at US$16 for the night it felt like a much better deal that the hotel where we had stayed the previous night. In addition to the better price, this room was a lot cleaner, the water pressure was better (although still no hot water), and the air conditioning unit was a lot newer. A cool shower never felt so good. We were happy.

The hotel was named the Hotel Cubanica. This was the first hint we had of the close relationship between Cuba and Nicaragua which we would continue to see as we traveled south.

There weren’t any restaurants nearby, so for dinner we walked about a mile to the next town, Puerto Momotombo, which sits right on the shore of Lake Managua. At a large waterfront restaurant with a palm-thatched roof that we had all to ourselves, we ate a big, tasty meal. Kids played in the water nearby, along the black, lava-sand beach. A tropical breeze blew ashore from across the lake. All in all, it was a great way to end a long day.

The March to Managua

The next morning a darn rooster perched just a couple feet outside of our room started crowing around 3am, waking us up. We eventually dragged ourselves out of bed at 5am, but we were still exhausted from the previous day’s ride. 

We both struggled a bit on the road to Managua. In addition to being fatigued from the start, there were several long climbs. Fortunately, they were not steep. But they lasted for miles, wearing down our tired legs. The scenery was also pretty mundane as we drew closer to the large city, so we didn’t have any of the previous day’s beauty to keep our mind off the hills.

We reached the edge of the Managua urban zone 16 miles (25.5 km) from our destination. The traffic got progressively heavier as we climbed slowly up a massive ridge and into the city. Things were actually going pretty well until we reached a big roundabout with only 3.5 miles (5.6 km) left to go. Much to our dismay, the final stretch of road between us and our hotel was under construction. And this was not any ordinary construction project - it was construction armageddon. 

Truly, it seemed like there had been no effort whatsoever to plan for how traffic would find its way past the construction zone. There was no official detour (or at least, there were no signs posted to mark a detour). The road surface had been removed for miles, leaving what used to be one of the main thoroughfares across city as a six-lane wide, dusty track. Very large piles of dirt and gravel were dumped unceremoniously onto the road corridor in random places, closing off whole sections of road and causing major obstacles even where the road appeared to be open. Sections of drivable road and sidewalks would come and go. Large streams of icky water flowed into the dirt road, creating huge, oil-slicked, muddy lakes with no easy way around. Dust clouds billowed through the air. Ramshackle vendors’ stalls had been haphazardly erected, adding to the mess. Chaos. It was like trying to bike through a crowded market where roads and sidewalks would randomly end leaving you to fend for yourself. 

On several occasions we followed cars thinking they might know where they were going, only to find that we all had to turn around at a dead end. At one point, a local guy helped us lift our bikes over some jersey barricades that stopped us in our tracks. No one seemed to mind if you found your way through the maze by mixing in with the construction going on. It was much more hectic and chaotic than the many of the African cities and markets we have biked through in the past. Unfortunately, we didn’t get any pictures of the situation because we were too busy trying to survive, but it went on for miles.

PedalingGuy did an amazing job finding a path through the obstacle course to get us to the hotel. This included several improvised detours onto side roads that invariably failed to connect all the way through to where we needed them to go. We weaved back and forth from one side of the construction zone to the other, determined to get through.  

We finally arrived at our hotel - an oasis of calm - soaked with sweat, crusted with dust, and totally worn out. It was heaven to get off that road. Needless to say, if you are a cyclist, you may want to avoid Managua. We went there for a very specific reason - we had decided to brave the vast Nicaraguan bureaucracy one more time to try and get our CA-4 visas extended, which can only be done in the capital city of Managua.

We spent the next four days in the city. Our hotel was located in the Metrocenter area, one of the more modern sections of the city. There was a large, updated mall within walking distance that had a big, well-stocked supermarket and plenty of places to eat out. But our neighborhood still had a somewhat gritty feel.

In 1972 Managua was pummeled by a catastrophic earthquake that destroyed 90% of the buildings and killed around 10,000 people. Reconstruction was subsequently hampered by government corruption, followed by an 11-year civil war. Yet even though the country has had peace for the past 34 years, Managua lacked the vibrancy we felt in other Central American capitals. Much of the infrastructure seemed worn and in need of repair.

A Trip to the Central Immigration Office

As mentioned above our number one goal in Managua was to secure an extension to our CA-4 tourist visas. These visas allow you to stay a total of 90 days within a bloc of four countries: Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua. We had entered Guatemala back in October, and were now within four days of having our visas expire. It would have been possible to cross the border into Costa Rica within four days, but only if we rode straight through, with no time to stop and enjoy a layover in Granada (an interesting colonial city), and no time to spare if anything should go wrong. We hate being on a tight schedule, so we opted to extend our visas.

There’s only one place in Nicaragua to legally extend a tourist visa, and that’s at the central immigration office in Managua. If you go to an immigration office in any other city, they will just mail your application to Managua, and it can take a while to get your passport back. In Managua, if you arrive at the office early enough, you can have your application processed the same day. 

So, bright and early Monday morning we set out on the 2.5 mile (4 km) walk to the immigration office, arriving around 7:30am. Although the office wasn’t open yet, there already were two long lines. Fortunately, the line for foreigners was the shorter one.

When we were allowed to enter the building, we had flashbacks to the border crossing from Honduras into Nicaragua. The process was gratuitously complicated, and it was made worse by the fact that there were no informational signs to help newbies like us figure out where we should go. Of course, there were multiple visits to different service windows and desks, each with its own, narrow purpose:

• Step 1 - We entered the building and sat down in the waiting area.

• Step 2 - We saw what looked like a window where we could get the required forms. But when we approached the window, we were told that the forms were now being sold back near the entrance to the building.

• Step 3 - We found the lady selling forms (who we had passed on the way into the building) and purchased a couple forms for 10 cents each. We then headed back to the waiting area.

• Step 4 - We asked someone sitting next to us in the waiting area what we should do next. He indicated that we needed a number to hold our place in line. So we waited in another line, to approach a ticket window and get a number to hold our place in line.

• Step 5 - Back in the waiting area we filled out our forms in Spanish as best we could, given that we were unsure about which sections we were supposed to complete, and which should be left blank for the officers to fill out. Then we took a seat and waited for our numbers to be called.

• Step 6 - After about 20 minutes, they called one of our numbers. But you had to be quick. If you didn’t approach the service window immediately, they would call the next number. Before we were able to figure out which window to go to, two other people with numbers after ours had already rushed forward and gotten in line. PedalingGal waived her ticket towards the window and shouted, “10! 10!” That seemed to work. Although they took one of the two guys who had jumped the line ahead of us, they acknowledged that we would be next. We waited just outside the booth were the service windows were, and made sure to hustle forward as soon as the guy ahead of us stepped away.

• Step 7 - At the service window, the immigration officer asked for all our paperwork including the forms and copies of our passports, which we had brought with us. But after reviewing the form, she declared that there were two additional sections of the form that we needed to complete. She indicated that we should go back to the seating area to complete the form, but we didn’t budge. We quickly scribbled in the required information while she checked our other documents and passports. She then handed us off to another lady at a different window.

• Step 8 - The second lady at the new window looked over our documents, then told us we had to go to another window to pay a fee.

• Step 9 - At the cashier’s window we paid our fee. Luckily we had researched the fee in advance, and had the correct change in crisp US dollars (you cannot pay with the local currency, or with a credit card). The payment went smoothly.

• Step 10 - Back at the immigration service window, we turned in all our documents plus the receipt of payment. Then we returned to the seating area to wait some more.

• Step 11 - We had only been waiting a few minutes when the one of the immigration officers called us back inside the booth. She told us we had used an incorrect address when completing the form (which had apparently not been noticed by the previous three people who reviewed the form). We had used our home address in our home country, but they wanted an address inside Nicaragua. So we took our forms back outside and added the address of our hotel. We then resubmitted the forms.

• Step 12 - We went back out to the now-very-crowded holding area to wait. By this time it was standing room only, so we stood for a while (until a couple of chairs eventually opened up). 

• Step 13 - Finally, around 11am, they called our name. We approached another service window and retrieved our passports with 30 more days added to our tourist visas. Yea!!

We were very relieved and happy. And even though it seemed to take forever, we can hardly complain. We were out of the office and returning to our hotel before noon. Based on the number of people in the waiting area when we left, and how long everything takes, there were bound to be a large number of people who arrived after us that would not make it through the entire, convoluted process, and would have to come back another day.

Managua City Center and Lake Managua Waterfront

Once we had our visa extension we finally felt like we could relax. We took an extra day to visit the city center and the waterfront at Lake Managua. Along our six mile walk we visited several of Managua’s more famous landmarks.

The city’s elegant, historic cathedral still occupies one side of the huge central plaza, known as Revolution Plaza. But there’s one catch - it’s just a shell. The 1972 earthquake that shattered Managua destroyed most of the buildings in the city center, including the cathedral. In some ways, the city never quite recovered. Most residents moved away from the city center and have not returned. The cathedral is one of the few pre-1972 buildings that remain. Yet while parts of the exterior have been restored, it is completely empty inside.

Much like El Salvador (and also Mexico City), Managua’s central plaza is not a park with benches, trees and vendors. Instead it is a gigantic, paved space that lends itself more to large demonstrations, festivals and parades, rather than people just hanging out and relaxing. When we were there (on a Wednesday morning) the plaza was absolutely, eerily deserted. We were practically the only people around. It felt tranquil, and lonely.

From the grand plaza we walked several blocks to the waterfront of Lake Managua, which has been given a big upgrade over the past 10 years. The lake front promenade is lined with giant, colorful, metal, abstract ‘trees’ that range in height from 42-56 ft (13-17 m). Called the ‘Trees of Life’, they were part of a beautification project sponsored by Nicaragua’s First Lady/Vice President. They definitely create a unique and distinctive visual impact, although we prefer real trees. Just like the main plaza, the waterfront was virtually devoid of people - with the exception of an occasional jogger.

Throughout Managua the presence of the president (Daniél Ortega), his wife (the vice president?!) and their Sandinista political party (the FSLN) can be felt everywhere. Posters of the president and first lady hang from walls and lamp posts. Statues of FSLN ‘heroes’ are common, and the FSLN flag often flies next to the national flag on buildings and monuments. Ortega has been in power in Nicaragua for the past 18 years, and his current term runs through 2026.

On the western end of the waterfront promenade we came to the Puerto Salvador Allende, a recreational area completely enclosed behind a high fence with a gate. The Puerto is supposed to be a highlight of the waterfront, so we paid the C10/person (appx. 25¢) to enter. But our timing was definitely off. There were clusters of shops and little restaurants, but nothing was open. Maybe it would be hopping in the evening or on weekends, but we had the place to ourselves on a weekday morning. Inside the gates, several hundred meters of the lakefront were lined with unoccupied, palapa-covered picnic tables. And an eclectic collection of tourist boats floated quietly next to a concrete pier. 

On the way back to our hotel we followed Avenida Bolívar, a broad parkway lined with green spaces, playgrounds, street vendors and more Trees of Life. Finally, we started to see more people out and about. It was still pretty low key compared to other Central American capital cities we had visited. But it was great to see that - at least along this one avenue - the downtown area still had some life to it.

The Historic City of Granada

At a little under 30 miles (48 km), the route between Managua and Granada was a pretty easy bike ride. The biggest challenge was getting away from the Managua metro area. On top of the usual urban traffic delays, the first part of the ride was all uphill without any shoulder on the road. Fortunately, there were two lanes of traffic in each direction, so most of the cars and trucks gave us enough room when passing. 

It took us over an hour to break away into a more rural area. Shortly after that we reached the highest point of the day’s route and found ourselves cycling along the northern edge of the Masaya Volcano National Park. The park has several active volcanic vents, but the most famous one is the Santiago crater, which has a lava lake deep in its center. If you visit the park on a nighttime tour, you can see the glow of the lava in the crater below. We passed during the day, so we didn’t take the time to make the trek to the edge of the crater. However, since it was only 2.5 miles away (4 km), and barely over 1,000 ft (305 m) above us, we could see the nearby slopes of the crater shrouded in the white clouds of sulfur dioxide that are continuously emitted from the volcanic vents.

Although the route remained hilly after passing the volcano, it was mostly downhill for the final 1.5 hrs. We loved that. Nothing is better than finishing any big climbs early in the morning - before the day gets hot - then cruising downhill as the temperature rises. We rolled into the historic, colonial-style city of Granada (pop. 105,000) before noon.

Upon arrival, we headed straight for a hotel. We landed at the Hotel Mosaico, which as its name suggests, has striking mosaics displayed throughout the property. Each room has its own, unique piece of mosaic art. We later noticed that mosaics pop up throughout the city, including a collection of beautiful designs set into the pavement of a pedestrian street near the main plaza. We never learned what might be driving the abundance of mosaics in the city. But Granada is well known for having strong moorish influences in its architecture, and having a lot of mosaics would align with that.

Beginning early in the colonial period, Granada was a very important city in Central America. In fact, it claims to have been the first European city on the American mainland. This is something of a technicality, but it does arise from the fact that in 1524 the Spanish crown officially registered Granada as a ‘city,’ which was a specific and coveted designation at the time. 

Throughout much of its history, Granada’s location on Lake Nicaragua (the largest lake in Central America) helped it to maintain a dominant role in regional trade, economics, politics and culture. A fierce (and sometimes bloody) rivalry with Nicaragua’s other big, historical city (León) was finally resolved in the mid-1800s when Managua - which lies about halfway between the two - was designated the capital of the country. After that, both León and Granada gradually lost much of their former glory.

We spent the next four days visiting Granada. Tourism is the city’s primary economic driver, narrowly edging out its other big role as a regional agricultural trading center. A number of important colonial-era buildings, including the cathedral and other structures that border the central plaza, have been restored and look beautiful. In the evenings, the central plaza and La Libertad Street - a cobblestone, pedestrian way that stretches for nearly a mile to the waterfront - become more lively with a few backpackers and other tourists. But the city still seems rather spartan and lacking people. There are surprisingly few street vendors, even in the central plaza. It is decidedly less busy and much more low-key than Antigua, Guatemala or most of Mexico’s Pueblos Mágicos.

Another reason that Granada seemed so quiet was that there were very few cars, especially when compared to other historic, tourist towns. Instead, a whole lot of people used bicycles as their primary transportation. It was very common to see a string of bikes heading down a cobblestone street. Many people had crates or baskets attached to their bikes for hauling stuff. And a high percentage of the bikes carried multiple people, with ‘passengers’ balanced uneasily on the top tube, or standing on pegs that stuck out from the rear wheel hub. 

Horse-powered travel was also a lot more common in Granada than other places we had been, especially for a city of its size. There were lots of fancy, dressed-up, horse-drawn carriages offering tours around the town. They seemed to be doing a brisk business, and we often saw them trotting down the street loaded with couples or families. In addition, there were quite a few horse-dawn carts being used for everyday activities, like making deliveries or hauling produce. We even saw one of Granada’s famous ‘funeral carriages,’ which are traditionally used to transport the casket to the cemetery after a funeral. 

Although Granada has many things in common with other historical towns in Central America, some of its architecture is pretty unique. One thing that sets the city apart is its location on the shores of Lake Nicaragua, by far the largest freshwater body in Central America. The lake has access to the Caribbean via a 120-mile long river, and is only 12 miles from the Pacific Ocean to the south. Before construction of the Panama Canal, the route along the San Juan River and Lake Nicaragua was the most popular alternative to sailing around the tip of South America. As a result, Granada grew rich from the flow of goods and people across Nicaragua. During the California Gold Rush, hundreds of thousands of people from all over the world passed through Granada on their way to California.

Several times we walked down to the waterfront. It was the ‘windy season,’ and the wind often whipped the palm trees that lined the beach at 15-20 mph, with gusts up to 35 mph (56 kph). All that wind produced ocean-like waves on the lake. The fact that we couldn’t see the far shore made it feel even more like we were standing at the edge of an inland sea. And the ocean analogy goes even further. As crazy as it sounds, the freshwater Lake Nicaragua is actually inhabited by sharks! Bull sharks swim up the San Juan River to breed in the lake.

As was often the case, our trips to the municipal market were a highlight of our time in Granada. In fact, the market was one of the few parts of Granada that felt lively, when crowds gathered to shop in the mornings and evenings. We enjoyed browsing the colorful shops and observing the day-to-day activities of the folks who called the city home.

Another Country, Another Dentist

On a Sunday morning, while eating breakfast, the crown on one of PedalingGuy’s teeth came off. You can imagine how discouraging that was. Yet another dentist visit was required. He has been to the dentist more over the last year than any other year of his life. Not great timing for a long-distance bike trip. We’ve come to the conclusion that there is a good chance he cracked two teeth during a particularly bad fall he had while going downhill in Baja, Mexico, which has precipitated a cascading number of visits to dentists. The crown that fell out was one that had been installed in Oaxaca, Mexico - only three months ago. To be fair, the dentist in Oaxaca told us at that time that he wasn’t sure the crown would last, but we decided to proceed anyway.   

PedalingGuy spent the rest of Sunday morning looking for a dentist in Granada. According to Google there was a good one only a block from our hotel. PedalingGuy didn’t expect the office to be open on Sunday, and the city was especially quiet. But he decided to go looking since it was so close, and knowing exactly where the dentist office was was would simplify making an appointment the next day (Monday).

PedalingGuy had a hard time finding the office. As he tried to locate it, a guy sitting on the street corner asked if he could be of assistance. Once PedalingGuy mentioned that he was looking for the dentist, the helpful citizen sprung into action. Before PedalingGuy could slow him down, the man said he knew where the dentist lived and disappeared. PedalingGuy never had the chance to explain that he was just looking for the office so he could visit the next day, when they would be open.   

Pretty soon the helpful citizen returned and he announced that the dentist was not at home, but that PedalingGuy should wait because they phoned the dentist and asked him to return. Things seemed to be snowballing into a five alarm emergency for such a routine appointment. When the dentist didn’t show up after a few minutes, the helpful citizen took PedalingGuy around the corner where the dentist’s mother lived. She invited him into her house to wait. After another couple of minutes of waiting, PedalingGuy made his move to try and extract himself from the rapidly-escalating situation by suggesting that perhaps he should leave his phone number so that the dentist could call him when he returned.

In the end, the dentist phoned later that day and we scheduled an appointment for the next day. It was heartwarming to see how helpful people try to be, even with total strangers. Although Grenada is a fairly large town, the friendly people and low key nature of everything gives it a small town feel.

We ate our final dinner in Granada at a restaurant called Verde, where we had become ‘regulars.’ They had a wonderful, tropical-themed and tranquil dining area with air conditioning - a rare thing in the city’s restaurants. Our favorite meal was a delicious rice and salad bowl, accompanied by dreamy, fresh fruit smoothies. A quiet, relaxing, nutritious dinner helped us get back in the mood for cycling. 

Between the Lake and the Sea

The road south from Granada heads onto the narrow ribbon of land between giant Lake Nicaragua and the Pacific Ocean. With each passing mile, the land between the lake and the sea became narrower until, near the city of Rivas, it was barely 12 miles wide (19 km). 

The day’s ride began with a steady, one hour effort chugging up a big hill. But after that we cruised down quickly onto the flatlands bordering the lake. The landscape was blanketed with agricultural fields growing bananas, sugar cane and hay, with quite a few pastures in between. In the low-lying areas there were numerous wetlands.

Sadly, although we weren’t that far from either the lake or the ocean, we didn’t get any great views of either one. For the most part, we just enjoyed the rural scenery as it rolled by.

For the second time since entering Central America, we found ourselves cycling across an area where the mountains melt away, and the wind blows across the flatlands unimpeded (the first time was on the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, in Mexico). By 9am the day had become very warm and windy. As a result, the remainder of the ride was kind of a slog into the wind. We hustled as fast as we could, looking forward to reaching the town of Rivas and getting relief from the elements.

Rivas (pop. 55,000) turned out to be an interesting little city. Much like Granada, it had its heyday during the years before the Panama Canal was built, when people and goods flowed across Nicaragua in large numbers. But unlike Granada, it hasn’t staked its economy on tourism. It remains an important commercial center, with factories producing leather, dairy and rubber products. Given its setting in a big farming district, it’s also an important agricultural hub for sugar, coffee, cacao, beans, rice and tobacco. 

The town’s central plaza was flanked by the bright, white San Pedro Church. On a pedestrian-only side street, several eclectic pieces of art gave the town an even more unique feel. One represented a ‘jaguar jar,’ crafted in a style similar to pre-Colombian, indigenous pottery that had been found in the area. Another represented the immaculate conception of the Virgin Mary, aloft over an image of Lake Nicaragua’s Ometepe Island, which has two volcanoes. The two works of art are almost jarringly different from each other. But they’re both lovely pieces, expressing contrasting aspects of the city’s history.

Next, Costa Rica

The time we spent in Honduras and Nicaragua felt like a whirlwind (although our stays in Managua and Granada gave us a chance to get to know Nicaragua a little bit better). In Rivas, we were less than a day’s ride from the border with Costa Rica. We looked forward to exploring another new country, with its greener, more humid jungles.

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