Nica

Border towns are never the nicest places to frequent, but the border into Nicaragua is one of the surrealist I have ever come across. A real one horse town where we were lucky to find somewhere to stay upon turning up at 9pm after a 18hr transport marathon down from the Bay Islands. The border really only consists of a line across the road, as demonstrated by the locals when for some reason at 10pm the entire population of the Honduran side leaves to cross back to Nicaragua, women, children and all; but seeing as we needed to be officially stamped in we had to wait it out till the morning to be escorted across on the local tricycle transport.

The change going in to Nicaragua (the poorest country in Central America, and also in the world) was drastic, with children banging the windows of the the bus on the way out of the border station begging for anything they could get;

but despite that the decoration of the houses and the surrounding scenery make a pleasant change from the drab Honduran apathy and a necessary distraction from the dirt track we seem to be travelling down at 80kmh on our way to Leon.

Arriving in Leon, the first decent sized town for a few months, the old Spanish influence is really visible in the cobbled streets and beautiful colonial buildings.

This is the town where the revolution started many years ago, overthrownin the sandinista government, but despite the massive significance of the event the only recording of it is a small one room ´museum´ with a few faded newspaper cuttings. Walking round the town is a pleasant stroll away from the touristy towns of the last few months with the obligatory churches and even a beautiful cemetery

where the tombs themselves are works of 18th century classical art; and up to the hill for views over town past the ´recycling plant´ which still relies primarily on fire.
Just outside the city is the old capital of Nicaragua Leon Viejo, which according to design principles of the time was built alarmingly close to a rather volcano-looking hill and so to their surprise they had to abandon the city when their hill started smoking,

and the control of power then eventually went to Managua.

Due to the availability of volcanoes in the area, one enterprising Australian hostel owner decided to make a living out of sending tourist flying down on various contraptions, and thus a trip to Volcan Cerro Negro (the Black Volcano) is a must for any visit here. For those of you that spend far too much time on youtube, this is the same place where the world downhill mountain bike record was set just before the guys forks snap sending him face first into the mountainside.

Even just the walk up the hill is worth all the money, with the startling contrast between the black lava rock and and green trees emphasising the stunning scenery spreading out below you.

Arriving at the top of the hill, and according to Nicaraguan health and safety principles, you get to run down into the crater of an active volcano amidst all the beautifully coloured volcanic rock,

only to realise that at the bottom the reason the rocks are that colour is because of all the sulphur being released before the frantic scramble back up the scree slope before you suffocate!
Luckily the boards have been refined from the original designs of table tops, fridges and snowboards; but still it is little more than a plank of wood with a couple of blocks nailed on the top to give you the allusion of a seat.
Getting kitted up at the top in orange jump suits that made you look like a cross between the Beastie Boys and some escaped convicts

, you are given a safety talk which pretty much consists of ´try not to crash, it hurts´ whilst hypocritically offering rewards for the first blood of the day.

And even though you don´t get to stand up and ride like a snowboard any more (believe me you don´t want to) after a practice slide down the baby slope even the most confident looking people are a little dubious.

The run down is over in less than 30 seconds if you´re doing well, but due to the lack of control the boards have it is nigh on impossible to keep them going in a straight line and some pretty serious crashes occur

and I still have some lava embedded in my head as a souvenir. Everyone is hyped at the bottom and raring to go up again, but the boards are pretty much one use only due to the caustic nature of the rock, so we jump back in the ute for the trip back through the feral forest

where children run and scream at you like they have never seen a white person before.

The quality of local music and food has certainly increased massively so we treat ourselves to a 5 course dinner in the poshest restaurant in town for $10 (despite the scathing looks of the upper class locals with 6 scruffy travellers being amazed with real cloth napkins) before checking out some of the live salsa music the town has on offer every night of the week.