But anyway; what of the food? As you can see, most of my meals had one thing in common. Rice and beans. Gallo pinto. It will be a long time before I would like to eat that combination again.
Thankfully there was some variation on Little Corn Island. Rondon, their local dish, was a coconut-based stew packed with fish, prawns, yucca, potato and carrots. We had to order it two hours in advance to give them time to prepare it. It was lovely; light but creamy and packed with flavour.
Squares of banana cake were sold by kids bearing big tupperware boxes. Squidgy and light, they were extremely moreish. One day, after a wander around the island, we bought a patty each from a man with another tupperware box. Still warm, they were light, crispy and filled with minced meat with a whack of spice and fruitiness that I knew could only come from scotch bonnets. We spent a good portion of the next day trying to find him again, but alas; it was a one-time opportunity.
After a few days sitting around in hammocks and getting pissed on rum we made the mission over to Ometepe, an island in the middle of the enormous Lake Nicaragua. Sleeping on dirty cardboard on an overnight freight boat with six smelly men wasn't the most comfortable way to travel, it was cheap and that was top priority.
The island is dominated by two volcanoes, Madeiras which is dormant, and Concepción (below).
We climbed that bastard. All 1619m of it. It took us 12 hours in total; it was the hardest thing I've done in a long time, and my legs still haven't recovered. It wasn't until the next evening we found out that our 'guide' was actually a drunk and a drug addict, and was arrested for taking us to the crater as it's too dangerous, given it's an active volcano and had erupted 2 weeks previously. Oops.
Other peoples' holiday photos are boring, but the Flickr set of The Death-Hike is HERE in case you're interested.