The Island That Time Forgot (And the World Changed)
Isla Ometepe today is almost unrecognizable. Over the years, the quiet magic of this place has drawn a wave of modern development. Foreign investors have bought up pieces of paradise, replacing the simple charm with massive, imposing luxury houses. Even Hacienda Mérida is no longer the raw, authentic refuge it used to be. Alvaro, the owner who helped us back then, turned out to have his own dark side; he is currently back in the United States, hiding from the Nicaraguan authorities after being accused of major tax evasion.
But long before the concrete and the crowds arrived, we were the very first tourists in Mérida.
Because of what happened during that fateful winter of 2001/2002, my soul became forever linked to this island. I returned year after year, and to this day, the locals still remember me warmly as "María, la que tomó las fotos" (Maria, the one who took the photos). This chapter is the beginning of a lifelong love affair with Nicaragua. It laid the foundation for my 2003 project Playa Volcán and my deep-dive documentary "Work in Nicaragua" later that same year (both of which you can read about in their own separate chapters). But it all started here, in a time when the island was still pure, untamed, and waiting to be discovered.
Isla Ometepe today is almost unrecognizable. Over the years, the quiet magic of this place has drawn a wave of modern development. Foreign investors have bought up pieces of paradise, replacing the simple charm with massive, imposing luxury houses. Even Hacienda Mérida is no longer the raw, authentic refuge it used to be. Alvaro, the owner who helped us back then, turned out to have his own dark side; he is currently back in the United States, hiding from the Nicaraguan authorities after being accused of major tax evasion.
But long before the concrete and the crowds arrived, we were the very first tourists in Mérida.
Because of what happened during that fateful winter of 2001/2002, my soul became forever linked to this island. I returned year after year, and to this day, the locals still remember me warmly as "María, la que tomó las fotos" (Maria, the one who took the photos). This chapter is the beginning of a lifelong love affair with Nicaragua. It laid the foundation for my 2003 project Playa Volcán and my deep-dive documentary "Work in Nicaragua" later that same year (both of which you can read about in their own separate chapters). But it all started here, in a time when the island was still pure, untamed, and waiting to be discovered.
Bullets, Banana Boats & Shots in Paradise: When Pictures Become a Threat
The Call of Isla Ometepe
My journey through Nicaragua during the winter of 2001/2002 began with one clear mission: I wanted to reach San Juan del Norte on the Caribbean coast. But as it often goes with traveling, destiny had other plans. Bus drivers highly recommended taking a detour across the stunning island of Ometepe. In the village of Moyogalpa—which back then was just a tiny, undeveloped outpost—I crossed paths with fellow travelers: Jan and Jens from Germany, Paul from the US, and Iñigo from the Basque Country. Feeling overwhelmed by the crowds of tourists at Finca Magdalena, we spontaneously decided to escape to the remote, untouched side of the island: a community called Mérida.
The Call of Isla Ometepe
My journey through Nicaragua during the winter of 2001/2002 began with one clear mission: I wanted to reach San Juan del Norte on the Caribbean coast. But as it often goes with traveling, destiny had other plans. Bus drivers highly recommended taking a detour across the stunning island of Ometepe. In the village of Moyogalpa—which back then was just a tiny, undeveloped outpost—I crossed paths with fellow travelers: Jan and Jens from Germany, Paul from the US, and Iñigo from the Basque Country. Feeling overwhelmed by the crowds of tourists at Finca Magdalena, we spontaneously decided to escape to the remote, untouched side of the island: a community called Mérida.
A Guardian Angel on the Volcano
Since Paul had rented a motorcycle, he offered to shuttle us over one by one, and I was the first passenger on the back. The gravel tracks back then were in a catastrophic condition, completely unpaved. Right in the middle of a steep, rocky volcanic slope, a total nightmare unfolded: my sleeping bag worked itself loose from my backpack and fed straight into the spinning rear wheel. The wheel locked up instantly! Thinking fast, I leaped off the back so Paul actually stood a chance of catching the heavy bike. Standing at a towering 1.90 meters tall, and wearing nothing but simple sandals, Paul had to use every ounce of his strength to keep the machine upright over the deep rain ruts. We truly had a guardian angel riding with us that day.
Since Paul had rented a motorcycle, he offered to shuttle us over one by one, and I was the first passenger on the back. The gravel tracks back then were in a catastrophic condition, completely unpaved. Right in the middle of a steep, rocky volcanic slope, a total nightmare unfolded: my sleeping bag worked itself loose from my backpack and fed straight into the spinning rear wheel. The wheel locked up instantly! Thinking fast, I leaped off the back so Paul actually stood a chance of catching the heavy bike. Standing at a towering 1.90 meters tall, and wearing nothing but simple sandals, Paul had to use every ounce of his strength to keep the machine upright over the deep rain ruts. We truly had a guardian angel riding with us that day.
Hacienda Merida
- former Somoza coffee plantation -
Refuge in Mérida
After recovering from the shock, we rode into Mérida and immediately noticed heavily armed police units stationed at the entrance of the village. We were just looking for a spot to pitch our tents on a small beach section when a local named Alvaro pulled up next to us in his vehicle. He was in the process of setting up his property, Hacienda Mérida, as a hostel. Out of safety concerns, he generously offered to let us set up our camp on his land completely for free. Over dinner, he revealed the grim truth behind the heavy police presence: just the day before, seven homes in the nearby village of El Peru had been completely leveled to the ground. A massive hotel resort project was planned, and the locals were being ruthlessly evicted from their own land.
After recovering from the shock, we rode into Mérida and immediately noticed heavily armed police units stationed at the entrance of the village. We were just looking for a spot to pitch our tents on a small beach section when a local named Alvaro pulled up next to us in his vehicle. He was in the process of setting up his property, Hacienda Mérida, as a hostel. Out of safety concerns, he generously offered to let us set up our camp on his land completely for free. Over dinner, he revealed the grim truth behind the heavy police presence: just the day before, seven homes in the nearby village of El Peru had been completely leveled to the ground. A massive hotel resort project was planned, and the locals were being ruthlessly evicted from their own land.
Barricades in Paradise
The next morning, we went down to the affected huts to see the situation for ourselves. We spoke with the villagers, who were furious, silent with shock, and utterly powerless against the state. But the community refused to surrender without a fight. A desperate plan was forged: to stop the police forces from invading the village, the men began chopping down trees and rolling massive boulders onto the dirt tracks. From a distance, we watched the police line slowly advance, clearing every single obstacle out of their path one by one as the locals shouted in protest.
The next morning, we went down to the affected huts to see the situation for ourselves. We spoke with the villagers, who were furious, silent with shock, and utterly powerless against the state. But the community refused to surrender without a fight. A desperate plan was forged: to stop the police forces from invading the village, the men began chopping down trees and rolling massive boulders onto the dirt tracks. From a distance, we watched the police line slowly advance, clearing every single obstacle out of their path one by one as the locals shouted in protest.
Caught in the Crossfire
After hours of tense standoff, the police reached the center of the village near the old church. Driven by sheer terror that the officers would reach their final destination, the villagers began throwing rocks at the police line. The officers retreated for a brief moment—until the police chief gave the fatal command to open fire. Everything happened at lightning speed. Around 20 heavily armed officers opened fire directly into the unarmed crowd. Paul and I scrambled for cover behind a massive tree, hearing bullets whizzing past our left and right ears. "We have to run!" Paul screamed. We bolted, running miles for our absolute lives back down to the safety of the bay.
Jan’s Bullet-Riddled T-Shirt
Trembling, we gathered at the shore. Alvaro, who had heard the gunshots from the hacienda, was already frantically using the village store's phone to alert the international embassies. When Jens, Jan, and Iñigo finally emerged from the chaos, a massive weight lifted off our shoulders. Jan had survived by a stroke of pure, unbelievable luck: while fleeing from the gunfire, he had tripped, and two live rounds passed straight through his flapping T-shirt, miraculously leaving him without a scratch. While the German and Spanish embassies showed zero interest in helping, the US embassy demanded a highly detailed report of the atrocities.
Tourists as Human Shields
Using what little first-aid material we carried, we tended to two wounded villagers who, thank God, had only suffered minor grazing wounds from the bullets. Amidst the chaos, the local priest stepped up, engaging in a fierce argument with the police chief. He pointed directly at us, shouting that as long as international tourists were present in the village, no further actions or demolition of homes could take place. It worked! The violence halted. One final house was not violently smashed to pieces but carefully dismantled stone by stone so the owner could reuse the materials to rebuild his life. Terrified and deeply traumatized, the villagers begged us to stay—and we stayed.
Trembling, we gathered at the shore. Alvaro, who had heard the gunshots from the hacienda, was already frantically using the village store's phone to alert the international embassies. When Jens, Jan, and Iñigo finally emerged from the chaos, a massive weight lifted off our shoulders. Jan had survived by a stroke of pure, unbelievable luck: while fleeing from the gunfire, he had tripped, and two live rounds passed straight through his flapping T-shirt, miraculously leaving him without a scratch. While the German and Spanish embassies showed zero interest in helping, the US embassy demanded a highly detailed report of the atrocities.
Tourists as Human Shields
Using what little first-aid material we carried, we tended to two wounded villagers who, thank God, had only suffered minor grazing wounds from the bullets. Amidst the chaos, the local priest stepped up, engaging in a fierce argument with the police chief. He pointed directly at us, shouting that as long as international tourists were present in the village, no further actions or demolition of homes could take place. It worked! The violence halted. One final house was not violently smashed to pieces but carefully dismantled stone by stone so the owner could reuse the materials to rebuild his life. Terrified and deeply traumatized, the villagers begged us to stay—and we stayed.
The Media Coup
Alvaro had been working behind the scenes and successfully tipped off the journalists. On Sunday morning, while we were having breakfast, a team from La Prensa—the largest newspaper in Nicaragua—suddenly pulled up to our house. Because Iñigo was a native Spaniard, he took the lead on the interview. During the entire clash, I had been shooting relentlessly with my analog SLR camera and telephoto lens. We handed over our precious rolls of film to the reporters so they could be developed in the capital. We agreed to meet them mid-week in Managua to retrieve our negatives.
Headlines That Shook the Nation
By Monday morning, the news hit the stands like a bombshell: we were featured with a massive front-page headline and a sprawling double-page spread filled with my photographs! The public outrage across Nicaragua was immense. Ometepe was historically known as the "Isla de Paz" (Island of Peace) because it had been completely untouched by the brutal civil war of the 1980s. The sudden international media exposure backed the government into a corner; they officially halted the illegal resort project and returned the land to the rightful villagers. Every single one of the 20 to 30 police officers involved in the shooting lost their jobs.
Alvaro had been working behind the scenes and successfully tipped off the journalists. On Sunday morning, while we were having breakfast, a team from La Prensa—the largest newspaper in Nicaragua—suddenly pulled up to our house. Because Iñigo was a native Spaniard, he took the lead on the interview. During the entire clash, I had been shooting relentlessly with my analog SLR camera and telephoto lens. We handed over our precious rolls of film to the reporters so they could be developed in the capital. We agreed to meet them mid-week in Managua to retrieve our negatives.
Headlines That Shook the Nation
By Monday morning, the news hit the stands like a bombshell: we were featured with a massive front-page headline and a sprawling double-page spread filled with my photographs! The public outrage across Nicaragua was immense. Ometepe was historically known as the "Isla de Paz" (Island of Peace) because it had been completely untouched by the brutal civil war of the 1980s. The sudden international media exposure backed the government into a corner; they officially halted the illegal resort project and returned the land to the rightful villagers. Every single one of the 20 to 30 police officers involved in the shooting lost their jobs.
The Mainland Odyssey
On Tuesday, we traveled back to the mainland, which in those days was a grueling, endless journey: the public bus took a painful four hours just to cover a distance of 12 kilometers! When we reached the historic city of Granada, we found it completely overrun with tourists, and every hotel was fully booked. As a third hostel was about to turn us away, the owner suddenly realized who we were—after all, the entire country had been reading La Prensa! Treating us like absolute heroes, he cleared out his lounge, letting us sleep on the couches and hammocks. On Wednesday, we proudly walked into the La Prensa headquarters in Managua, where the staff welcomed us warmly and handed back our developed negatives.
On Tuesday, we traveled back to the mainland, which in those days was a grueling, endless journey: the public bus took a painful four hours just to cover a distance of 12 kilometers! When we reached the historic city of Granada, we found it completely overrun with tourists, and every hotel was fully booked. As a third hostel was about to turn us away, the owner suddenly realized who we were—after all, the entire country had been reading La Prensa! Treating us like absolute heroes, he cleared out his lounge, letting us sleep on the couches and hammocks. On Wednesday, we proudly walked into the La Prensa headquarters in Managua, where the staff welcomed us warmly and handed back our developed negatives.
Surviving the Lake Storm
Fully loaded with school textbooks, fresh food supplies, and a massive piñata for the traumatized village children, we boarded an old banana boat to return to the island. It turned into one of the most terrifying boat crossings of my life. The waves on the massive Lake Nicaragua were so violent and powerful that they pushed in the wooden planks of the hull, and water began flooding the interior. Against all odds, the boat held together, and we survived the storm.
Healing Mérida
We spent the following weeks deeply integrated into the Mérida community. Every morning, we helped open the local kindergarten and prepared breakfast for the little ones. We hosted a massive piñata party at the school, filling it to the brim with candy. It was our small way of helping the kids process the trauma and bringing a sense of joy and normalcy back to the village. Back then, we were the very first tourists to ever stay in that part of the island.
Fully loaded with school textbooks, fresh food supplies, and a massive piñata for the traumatized village children, we boarded an old banana boat to return to the island. It turned into one of the most terrifying boat crossings of my life. The waves on the massive Lake Nicaragua were so violent and powerful that they pushed in the wooden planks of the hull, and water began flooding the interior. Against all odds, the boat held together, and we survived the storm.
Healing Mérida
We spent the following weeks deeply integrated into the Mérida community. Every morning, we helped open the local kindergarten and prepared breakfast for the little ones. We hosted a massive piñata party at the school, filling it to the brim with candy. It was our small way of helping the kids process the trauma and bringing a sense of joy and normalcy back to the village. Back then, we were the very first tourists to ever stay in that part of the island.
Missing the Transit Boat
Eventually, the time came for us to move on. Paul decided to keep me company and join me on my original quest down the Río San Juan to San Juan del Norte. However, the jungle transit immediately tested our patience. To get all the way down the river, you had to catch the lancha (the local transit boat), which only ran twice a week. But because Paul simply could not get his act together in the mornings, we managed the impossible feat of missing the lancha two times in a row!
The Kayak Miracle on the Río San Juan
While we were stranded, destiny stepped in. First, I ran into Rivo, a solo traveler from Estonia who was also desperately trying to make it down the river. Then, the two of us met Miguel, a local Nica who had recently returned from the United States with two professional ocean kayaks. Miguel had a wild dream: he wanted to launch the very first kayak-tourism business on the Río San Juan. Since he urgently needed to test the route, he made us a mind-blowing offer: he would guide us all the way down to San Juan del Norte in the kayaks completely for free. We accepted on the spot, turning a simple boat ride into a grueling, exhilarating 5-day paddle straight through the absolute wild of the jungle.
A Taste of Jungle Revenge
Upon finally arriving in San Juan del Norte, the ultimate, bizarre twist of the journey was waiting for us. My large main backpack was mysteriously stolen by the local police force. The locals couldn't believe it themselves because the village was so small that everyone knew each other. But the moment we shared our wild Ometepe story, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place: the disgraced, fired officers from the Mérida shooting had family ties right here in San Juan del Norte! They wanted revenge and were desperately hunting for my photo negatives. But the joke was completely on them—throughout the entire jungle trek, I had kept those priceless films safely tucked away in my small daypack on my body.
Eventually, the time came for us to move on. Paul decided to keep me company and join me on my original quest down the Río San Juan to San Juan del Norte. However, the jungle transit immediately tested our patience. To get all the way down the river, you had to catch the lancha (the local transit boat), which only ran twice a week. But because Paul simply could not get his act together in the mornings, we managed the impossible feat of missing the lancha two times in a row!
The Kayak Miracle on the Río San Juan
While we were stranded, destiny stepped in. First, I ran into Rivo, a solo traveler from Estonia who was also desperately trying to make it down the river. Then, the two of us met Miguel, a local Nica who had recently returned from the United States with two professional ocean kayaks. Miguel had a wild dream: he wanted to launch the very first kayak-tourism business on the Río San Juan. Since he urgently needed to test the route, he made us a mind-blowing offer: he would guide us all the way down to San Juan del Norte in the kayaks completely for free. We accepted on the spot, turning a simple boat ride into a grueling, exhilarating 5-day paddle straight through the absolute wild of the jungle.
A Taste of Jungle Revenge
Upon finally arriving in San Juan del Norte, the ultimate, bizarre twist of the journey was waiting for us. My large main backpack was mysteriously stolen by the local police force. The locals couldn't believe it themselves because the village was so small that everyone knew each other. But the moment we shared our wild Ometepe story, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place: the disgraced, fired officers from the Mérida shooting had family ties right here in San Juan del Norte! They wanted revenge and were desperately hunting for my photo negatives. But the joke was completely on them—throughout the entire jungle trek, I had kept those priceless films safely tucked away in my small daypack on my body.
Hacienda Merida 2022
Ghosts of the Past and Roommates from Hell
Returning to Isla Ometepe over the years—from my regular visits between 2002 and 2010, to my returns in 2019, 2020, and a long three-month stay in 2022—always brings back a flood of unique anecdotes. When I visited Hacienda Méridain 2022 to see what was left of our old refuge, the physical traces of our time there had vanished. The drawings I had once painted onto the walls were gone, the old wooden dock was history, and the boat workshop in the former coffee sheds was completely dismantled. The entire complex had finally been finished, looking nothing like the raw construction site we lived in. Seeing it fully built instantly triggered a core memory of the bizarre roommates Paul and I discovered hidden behind his backpack on our very first trip: a wild bat and a massive, hairy black-and-white tarantula—local legend calls them the "horse spiders" (arañas de caballo). After that terrifying discovery, I strictly slept outside in my hammock, while Iñigo hilariously trapped both creatures in a single glass jar just to see which one would win the ultimate jungle showdown.
Ghosts of the Past and Roommates from Hell
Returning to Isla Ometepe over the years—from my regular visits between 2002 and 2010, to my returns in 2019, 2020, and a long three-month stay in 2022—always brings back a flood of unique anecdotes. When I visited Hacienda Méridain 2022 to see what was left of our old refuge, the physical traces of our time there had vanished. The drawings I had once painted onto the walls were gone, the old wooden dock was history, and the boat workshop in the former coffee sheds was completely dismantled. The entire complex had finally been finished, looking nothing like the raw construction site we lived in. Seeing it fully built instantly triggered a core memory of the bizarre roommates Paul and I discovered hidden behind his backpack on our very first trip: a wild bat and a massive, hairy black-and-white tarantula—local legend calls them the "horse spiders" (arañas de caballo). After that terrifying discovery, I strictly slept outside in my hammock, while Iñigo hilariously trapped both creatures in a single glass jar just to see which one would win the ultimate jungle showdown.
Behind the Walls: The Dictatorial Past and the Stolen Rights of Mérida
Long before backpackers, kayaks, and eco-schools arrived on the remote shores of Mérida, the ground beneath the Hacienda carried a dark and heavy historical weight.
Before the Sandinista Revolution shook Nicaragua in 1979, the property was not a place of hospitality—it was an iron-fisted stronghold of the Somoza dictatorial dynasty. For decades, the Somoza family ruthlessly controlled vast amounts of land across Isla Ometepe, turning the island into their personal agricultural empire.
The human cost of this empire was devastating. Locals like Erik’s mother spent their entire lives working these vast plantations under brutal conditions. She would wake up in the dead of night, long before dawn, and set off into the pitch black—with no electricity and no modern comforts—only to return late in the evening after exhausting, backbreaking labor. To keep the workforce close, the Somoza regime allowed the families to live on small plots of land around the plantation. They were given a place to build their simple homes, but they were never granted the legal deeds or official property rights.
The heavy, historic stone buildings of today's Hacienda Mérida—including the massive old sheds that served as a temporary boat workshop during my first visit in 2002—were originally built as major coffee processing and storage warehouses for the dictator. Here, the coffee harvested by people like Erik's mother was dried, packed, and loaded onto boats to fill the pockets of the regime.
When the dictatorship fell in 1979, the Somoza properties were seized, but the legal chaos was never truly resolved. Decades later, this lack of formal paperwork became a ticking time bomb. It explains exactly why the government and corrupt investors were able to ruthlessly target the villagers in 2002; without official land titles, the locals were legally defenseless. This unresolved issue stretches right into the present day: many of the foreigners who have recently bought up paradise and built their massive luxury houses on the island likely do not possess legitimate, legally secure ownership claims. They are building on stolen ground, while the descendants of the people who bled for this land are still pushed aside.
Long before backpackers, kayaks, and eco-schools arrived on the remote shores of Mérida, the ground beneath the Hacienda carried a dark and heavy historical weight.
Before the Sandinista Revolution shook Nicaragua in 1979, the property was not a place of hospitality—it was an iron-fisted stronghold of the Somoza dictatorial dynasty. For decades, the Somoza family ruthlessly controlled vast amounts of land across Isla Ometepe, turning the island into their personal agricultural empire.
The human cost of this empire was devastating. Locals like Erik’s mother spent their entire lives working these vast plantations under brutal conditions. She would wake up in the dead of night, long before dawn, and set off into the pitch black—with no electricity and no modern comforts—only to return late in the evening after exhausting, backbreaking labor. To keep the workforce close, the Somoza regime allowed the families to live on small plots of land around the plantation. They were given a place to build their simple homes, but they were never granted the legal deeds or official property rights.
The heavy, historic stone buildings of today's Hacienda Mérida—including the massive old sheds that served as a temporary boat workshop during my first visit in 2002—were originally built as major coffee processing and storage warehouses for the dictator. Here, the coffee harvested by people like Erik's mother was dried, packed, and loaded onto boats to fill the pockets of the regime.
When the dictatorship fell in 1979, the Somoza properties were seized, but the legal chaos was never truly resolved. Decades later, this lack of formal paperwork became a ticking time bomb. It explains exactly why the government and corrupt investors were able to ruthlessly target the villagers in 2002; without official land titles, the locals were legally defenseless. This unresolved issue stretches right into the present day: many of the foreigners who have recently bought up paradise and built their massive luxury houses on the island likely do not possess legitimate, legally secure ownership claims. They are building on stolen ground, while the descendants of the people who bled for this land are still pushed aside.
A Legacy of Green Innovation
Despite the inevitable changes and the bittersweet passage of time, the spirit of community and resilience that we witnessed during the dark days of 2002 never truly left the area. Walking around the grounds today, you can see how the modern Hacienda has transformed into an eco-conscious hub, highlighted by their commitment to creative sustainability. A beautiful testament to this new era is the small school built right on the property, entirely constructed out of recycled materials like plastic "eco-bricks" and glass bottles embedded in bright blue concrete walls.
Despite the inevitable changes and the bittersweet passage of time, the spirit of community and resilience that we witnessed during the dark days of 2002 never truly left the area. Walking around the grounds today, you can see how the modern Hacienda has transformed into an eco-conscious hub, highlighted by their commitment to creative sustainability. A beautiful testament to this new era is the small school built right on the property, entirely constructed out of recycled materials like plastic "eco-bricks" and glass bottles embedded in bright blue concrete walls.
Oswaldos Ranch
Copycats, Cabanas, and Church Chants at Dawn
Inspired by Alvaro’s setup, many enterprising locals naturally began imitating the model. His direct neighbor was no exception, and his son, Oswaldo, later built a few small cabanas on his own family property to rent out to travelers. I ended up living in one of these cozy bungalows for two memorable months. My daily life there felt like a living jungle documentary: vibrant parrots frequently visited my windows, and right above the treetops, I would regularly spot a beautiful, fluffy fox squirrel (Sciurus niger) watching me from the branches.
Living so close to the community also meant being part of its unpredictable rhythm. I’ll never forget one specific Sunday morning when my neighbor Jen (who was staying in the bungalow next to mine) and I were rudely blasted awake at 7:00 AM by deafening, booming church music. Still completely exhausted and running on empty after a long night of partying, I stumbled out to investigate, desperately trying to grab a quick coffee first. It turned out that Oswaldo had generously offered his entire restaurant area to a local church congregation for their early morning service. It was loud, it was sudden, and it was the ultimate, authentic slice of island life that you just can't write a script for.
Copycats, Cabanas, and Church Chants at Dawn
Inspired by Alvaro’s setup, many enterprising locals naturally began imitating the model. His direct neighbor was no exception, and his son, Oswaldo, later built a few small cabanas on his own family property to rent out to travelers. I ended up living in one of these cozy bungalows for two memorable months. My daily life there felt like a living jungle documentary: vibrant parrots frequently visited my windows, and right above the treetops, I would regularly spot a beautiful, fluffy fox squirrel (Sciurus niger) watching me from the branches.
Living so close to the community also meant being part of its unpredictable rhythm. I’ll never forget one specific Sunday morning when my neighbor Jen (who was staying in the bungalow next to mine) and I were rudely blasted awake at 7:00 AM by deafening, booming church music. Still completely exhausted and running on empty after a long night of partying, I stumbled out to investigate, desperately trying to grab a quick coffee first. It turned out that Oswaldo had generously offered his entire restaurant area to a local church congregation for their early morning service. It was loud, it was sudden, and it was the ultimate, authentic slice of island life that you just can't write a script for.
Thor: The Sheet-Stainer and His Island Gang (2022)
During my long stays in the cabanas, I wasn’t living alone—I shared my space with a wonderful local dog named Thor, who quickly became my personal house pet. Whenever the tropical heat outside grew too unbearable, Thor would casually stroll into my bungalow to seek refuge in the cool shade. He loved the comfort of the room, though he had a terrible habit of jumping straight onto my freshly washed, pristine white bedsheets the second my back was turned, leaving a perfect trail of muddy jungle paw prints behind. But Thor wasn't just a couch potato; he was an absolute social butterfly on the island. He had a massive squad of furry friends. Decades ago, back in 2002, I used to stand on the raw, weathered planks of the original wooden dock that stretched out into the lake. Today, that old structure is long gone, replaced by a newer concrete pier—and that’s exactly where Thor’s local pack loves to gather now, acting like the self-appointed, four-legged welcoming committee of Mérida.
During my long stays in the cabanas, I wasn’t living alone—I shared my space with a wonderful local dog named Thor, who quickly became my personal house pet. Whenever the tropical heat outside grew too unbearable, Thor would casually stroll into my bungalow to seek refuge in the cool shade. He loved the comfort of the room, though he had a terrible habit of jumping straight onto my freshly washed, pristine white bedsheets the second my back was turned, leaving a perfect trail of muddy jungle paw prints behind. But Thor wasn't just a couch potato; he was an absolute social butterfly on the island. He had a massive squad of furry friends. Decades ago, back in 2002, I used to stand on the raw, weathered planks of the original wooden dock that stretched out into the lake. Today, that old structure is long gone, replaced by a newer concrete pier—and that’s exactly where Thor’s local pack loves to gather now, acting like the self-appointed, four-legged welcoming committee of Mérida.
The Price of Paradise and the Minister’s Son
It is no coincidence that Mérida became the flashpoint for such a violent clash; the village boasts the most famous, breathtaking sunsets on all of Isla Ometepe, framed beautifully by endless groves of towering coconut palms. It was precisely this postcard-perfect scenery that caught the greedy eyes of the developers who wanted to build the massive luxury resort back in 2002. Weeks after returning to Germany, I received a letter from the Mérida community that finally revealed the corrupt core of the entire scandal: the mastermind behind the illegal resort project was none other than the son of a high-ranking government minister. That corrupt family connection was the exact reason why the police had acted with such unchecked, lethal brutality—and why the government was forced to completely back down once my photographs exposed them to the nation. To this very day, corrupt investors and mega-resorts keep their distance from Mérida, leaving the local community in peace.
It is no coincidence that Mérida became the flashpoint for such a violent clash; the village boasts the most famous, breathtaking sunsets on all of Isla Ometepe, framed beautifully by endless groves of towering coconut palms. It was precisely this postcard-perfect scenery that caught the greedy eyes of the developers who wanted to build the massive luxury resort back in 2002. Weeks after returning to Germany, I received a letter from the Mérida community that finally revealed the corrupt core of the entire scandal: the mastermind behind the illegal resort project was none other than the son of a high-ranking government minister. That corrupt family connection was the exact reason why the police had acted with such unchecked, lethal brutality—and why the government was forced to completely back down once my photographs exposed them to the nation. To this very day, corrupt investors and mega-resorts keep their distance from Mérida, leaving the local community in peace.
Fernando’s Haven and the Return of "La María"
When I returned to the island in 2008, I was heartbroken to discover that our beloved Hostal Playa Volcán had not survived the economic tides. However, right next door, a new sanctuary had opened its doors: a cozy hostel run by Fernando, a welcoming expat from Spain who had established it that very year. I checked in with my four-year-old son, Felipe, and introduced myself. The moment I mentioned who I was, Fernando’s eyes lit up—the locals had told him all about the historical events of 2002, and he instantly knew me as "María, la que tomó las fotos." For him, meeting the photographer behind the legendary La Prensa front page was a true honor. From that moment on, Fernando’s place became my anchor on the island.
When I returned to the island in 2008, I was heartbroken to discover that our beloved Hostal Playa Volcán had not survived the economic tides. However, right next door, a new sanctuary had opened its doors: a cozy hostel run by Fernando, a welcoming expat from Spain who had established it that very year. I checked in with my four-year-old son, Felipe, and introduced myself. The moment I mentioned who I was, Fernando’s eyes lit up—the locals had told him all about the historical events of 2002, and he instantly knew me as "María, la que tomó las fotos." For him, meeting the photographer behind the legendary La Prensa front page was a true honor. From that moment on, Fernando’s place became my anchor on the island.
A 20-Year Reunion and Scooter Adventures
Fast forward to late 2022: I was living in Matagalpa and no longer had my regular bungalow, but a monumental milestone brought me back to Mérida. After 20 long years, Iñigo and I arranged a reunion at the exact spot where our wild adventure had begun. I told Iñigo to meet me at Fernando’s, which had evolved into the absolute best and most affordable place to stay in town. Fernando’s hostel was so popular that it was completely booked during parts of our stay, but in true island fashion, Fernando generously opened his private home so we had a place to sleep. For two unforgettable weeks, Iñigo and I explored Ometepe on a rented scooter, finally discovering every hidden corner of the island just as we had dreamed of doing two decades earlier.
But before we dive into the details of that scooter tour with Iñigo, let’s first look back at my impressions from those early days and the unique places we explored back then.
Fast forward to late 2022: I was living in Matagalpa and no longer had my regular bungalow, but a monumental milestone brought me back to Mérida. After 20 long years, Iñigo and I arranged a reunion at the exact spot where our wild adventure had begun. I told Iñigo to meet me at Fernando’s, which had evolved into the absolute best and most affordable place to stay in town. Fernando’s hostel was so popular that it was completely booked during parts of our stay, but in true island fashion, Fernando generously opened his private home so we had a place to sleep. For two unforgettable weeks, Iñigo and I explored Ometepe on a rented scooter, finally discovering every hidden corner of the island just as we had dreamed of doing two decades earlier.
But before we dive into the details of that scooter tour with Iñigo, let’s first look back at my impressions from those early days and the unique places we explored back then.
A Cold Drink and a 20-Year Echo
In late 2022, the deep history of this island caught up with me once again in the most unexpected way. One evening, the son of a local friend took me out to a small bar in a neighboring village, where we sat down with a group of locals from Mérida. When they asked if this was my first time visiting the island, I smiled and shared a bit of my history. One of the older guys at the table froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. "So you are María... the one who took the photos," he whispered. He then shared a chilling piece of his own past: back in 2002, he was just a 12-year-old boy. On that terrifying day, he and many other children had gathered inside the village church to pray with the community against the illegal land evictions. When the sudden storm of gunfire erupted outside, the priest yelled for everyone to drop, ordering the frightened children to hide under the wooden pews, where they crouched in silence for a very long time. Sitting at that bar, decades later, exchanging our two different perspectives of the exact same traumatic day was surreal. It is a beautiful, deeply moving feeling to return to this island and realize that the people of Ometepe have never forgotten us, just as I will never forget them. (left photo: new church in Merida; right photo: the old one)
In late 2022, the deep history of this island caught up with me once again in the most unexpected way. One evening, the son of a local friend took me out to a small bar in a neighboring village, where we sat down with a group of locals from Mérida. When they asked if this was my first time visiting the island, I smiled and shared a bit of my history. One of the older guys at the table froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. "So you are María... the one who took the photos," he whispered. He then shared a chilling piece of his own past: back in 2002, he was just a 12-year-old boy. On that terrifying day, he and many other children had gathered inside the village church to pray with the community against the illegal land evictions. When the sudden storm of gunfire erupted outside, the priest yelled for everyone to drop, ordering the frightened children to hide under the wooden pews, where they crouched in silence for a very long time. Sitting at that bar, decades later, exchanging our two different perspectives of the exact same traumatic day was surreal. It is a beautiful, deeply moving feeling to return to this island and realize that the people of Ometepe have never forgotten us, just as I will never forget them. (left photo: new church in Merida; right photo: the old one)
Lake NICARAGUA - El Lago de Nicaragua - The Sweet Sea
The Mighty Lake Cocibolca
Formed by centuries of volcanic activity, Lake Nicaragua—originally named Cocibolca in the indigenous Nahuatl language—is a massive body of water covering a staggering 8,264 square kilometers. Stretching 160 kilometers in length and reaching 65 kilometers at its widest point, this vast lake sits 32 meters above sea level and is fed by numerous rivers. It holds a unique connection to the Caribbean Sea via the Río San Juan, the second-longest river in Central America, spanning a distance of 190 kilometers, while a mere 18 kilometers of land separate its western shores from the Pacific Ocean. Home to more than 430 volcanic islands, this unique ecosystem sets the dramatic stage for the majestic peaks of Ometepe rising straight out of its waters.
Formed by centuries of volcanic activity, Lake Nicaragua—originally named Cocibolca in the indigenous Nahuatl language—is a massive body of water covering a staggering 8,264 square kilometers. Stretching 160 kilometers in length and reaching 65 kilometers at its widest point, this vast lake sits 32 meters above sea level and is fed by numerous rivers. It holds a unique connection to the Caribbean Sea via the Río San Juan, the second-longest river in Central America, spanning a distance of 190 kilometers, while a mere 18 kilometers of land separate its western shores from the Pacific Ocean. Home to more than 430 volcanic islands, this unique ecosystem sets the dramatic stage for the majestic peaks of Ometepe rising straight out of its waters.
Ancient Bridges and Treacherous Waters
The lake has an average depth of 20 meters, though it hides dramatic drops of up to 60 meters right near the shores of Isla Ometepe. Geologists believe that when the land bridge between North and South America formed around 4 to 5 million years ago—with the region of Rivas rising from the depths to connect the two giant continents—this new corridor became a heavily traveled route for early human migrations. Consequently, many of the lake's islands served as crucial, sacred religious sites utilized for ancient ceremonies and sacrificial offerings. Navigating this historic body of water remains an adventure to this day; due to its immense size and unique wind patterns, the lake can transform within minutes from a mirror-like calm into a wildly roaring expanse of giant, treacherous waves that test even the sturdiest of boats.
The lake has an average depth of 20 meters, though it hides dramatic drops of up to 60 meters right near the shores of Isla Ometepe. Geologists believe that when the land bridge between North and South America formed around 4 to 5 million years ago—with the region of Rivas rising from the depths to connect the two giant continents—this new corridor became a heavily traveled route for early human migrations. Consequently, many of the lake's islands served as crucial, sacred religious sites utilized for ancient ceremonies and sacrificial offerings. Navigating this historic body of water remains an adventure to this day; due to its immense size and unique wind patterns, the lake can transform within minutes from a mirror-like calm into a wildly roaring expanse of giant, treacherous waves that test even the sturdiest of boats.
Prehistoric Depths and Volcanic Crowns
The underwater world of Cocibolca is equally remarkable, teeming with unique wildlife inside the second-largest tropical lake in the world. It is famously home to the world’s only freshwater shark (the bull shark) and freshwater sawfish, alongside schools of sardines and the prehistoric gaspar fish (alligator gar). Rising dramatically from these ancient waters are the lake's iconic volcanoes. First, there is the island of Zapatera, an extinct volcanic crown reaching 600 meters, which is preserved as a national park and stands as one of the most important prehistoric archaeological sites in Nicaragua. Then, of course, lies Isla Ometepe with its two contrasting giants: the highly active Concepción (1,610m)—which saw major eruptions throughout the 19th and 20th centuries and continued throwing ash until 1999—and the extinct Maderas (1,394m), which is wrapped in Nicaragua’s unique cloud forest and hides a mystical lagoon inside its crater. This spectacular landscape is a true reflection of Nicaragua itself, a land fundamentally shaped by volcanoes, both active and dormant, ranging from a mere 160 years to over 8 million years old.
The underwater world of Cocibolca is equally remarkable, teeming with unique wildlife inside the second-largest tropical lake in the world. It is famously home to the world’s only freshwater shark (the bull shark) and freshwater sawfish, alongside schools of sardines and the prehistoric gaspar fish (alligator gar). Rising dramatically from these ancient waters are the lake's iconic volcanoes. First, there is the island of Zapatera, an extinct volcanic crown reaching 600 meters, which is preserved as a national park and stands as one of the most important prehistoric archaeological sites in Nicaragua. Then, of course, lies Isla Ometepe with its two contrasting giants: the highly active Concepción (1,610m)—which saw major eruptions throughout the 19th and 20th centuries and continued throwing ash until 1999—and the extinct Maderas (1,394m), which is wrapped in Nicaragua’s unique cloud forest and hides a mystical lagoon inside its crater. This spectacular landscape is a true reflection of Nicaragua itself, a land fundamentally shaped by volcanoes, both active and dormant, ranging from a mere 160 years to over 8 million years old.
The Archipelagos of Granada and Solentiname
Additionally, the lake features two more famous archipelagos, each with its own distinct character. Sprawling along the western shores just off the coast of the colonial city of Granada lies Las Isletas, a collection of 354 tiny islands believed to have been formed millions of years ago when the nearby Mombacho volcano blew its top. On the opposite side of the lake, tucked away near the eastern shores near San Carlos and the river mouths of the Río San Juan and Río Frío, lies the remote archipelago of Solentiname. This tranquil group of islands is world-renowned not only for its rich prehistoric history but also for its unique community of primitive artists and painters who have captured the vibrant essence of Nicaragua for generations.
Additionally, the lake features two more famous archipelagos, each with its own distinct character. Sprawling along the western shores just off the coast of the colonial city of Granada lies Las Isletas, a collection of 354 tiny islands believed to have been formed millions of years ago when the nearby Mombacho volcano blew its top. On the opposite side of the lake, tucked away near the eastern shores near San Carlos and the river mouths of the Río San Juan and Río Frío, lies the remote archipelago of Solentiname. This tranquil group of islands is world-renowned not only for its rich prehistoric history but also for its unique community of primitive artists and painters who have captured the vibrant essence of Nicaragua for generations.
The Birth of the Oasis of Peace
Legend and geology tell us that between 8 and 9 million years ago, the land of Rivas rose from the depths of the sea, forever locking together the two massive continents of North and South America. In the heart of this new cosmic connection, Lake Nicaragua was born, cradling an island forged by two majestic volcanic peaks that still stand proud today: La Isla de Ometepe. The locals warmly call their home "El Oasis de Paz" (The Oasis of Peace), a fitting name for a sanctuary that was completely forgotten by the horrors of the 1980s civil war and spared from the country's latest conflicts. Yet, the island is remarkable not only for its breathtaking natural beauty and the genuine kindness of its people, but also for holding a deeply mysterious, unsolved piece of human history—the petroglyphs!
Legend and geology tell us that between 8 and 9 million years ago, the land of Rivas rose from the depths of the sea, forever locking together the two massive continents of North and South America. In the heart of this new cosmic connection, Lake Nicaragua was born, cradling an island forged by two majestic volcanic peaks that still stand proud today: La Isla de Ometepe. The locals warmly call their home "El Oasis de Paz" (The Oasis of Peace), a fitting name for a sanctuary that was completely forgotten by the horrors of the 1980s civil war and spared from the country's latest conflicts. Yet, the island is remarkable not only for its breathtaking natural beauty and the genuine kindness of its people, but also for holding a deeply mysterious, unsolved piece of human history—the petroglyphs!
The Riddle of Pre-Columbian Ometepe
Scattered across the entire island are massive volcanic basalt boulders carved with enigmatic symbols that point directly to its ancient indigenous roots. Archaeological discoveries of local ceramics have proven that the island was inhabited at least 3,500 years ago—with some experts even suggesting human presence as far back as 12,000 years. Because very few formal studies have been conducted, much of this pre-Columbian era remains shrouded in mystery. In 1992, US archaeologist Frederick W. Lange proposed that around 1500 BC, migrations originating from South America made landfall here on their way to Mexico and decided to settle. Later, various tribes arrived from both the Pacific and Caribbean coasts. Yet, the exact identity of the people living on the island during the Spanish conquest remains an unsolved puzzle. In 1586, a local priest reported that the islanders spoke a unique language completely unlike any tribe found on the mainland. The only concrete link we have is that the basalt statues discovered on Ometepe share the exact artistic style as those found on the nearby island of Zapatera, which were famously dedicated to the Chorotega civilization.
Scattered across the entire island are massive volcanic basalt boulders carved with enigmatic symbols that point directly to its ancient indigenous roots. Archaeological discoveries of local ceramics have proven that the island was inhabited at least 3,500 years ago—with some experts even suggesting human presence as far back as 12,000 years. Because very few formal studies have been conducted, much of this pre-Columbian era remains shrouded in mystery. In 1992, US archaeologist Frederick W. Lange proposed that around 1500 BC, migrations originating from South America made landfall here on their way to Mexico and decided to settle. Later, various tribes arrived from both the Pacific and Caribbean coasts. Yet, the exact identity of the people living on the island during the Spanish conquest remains an unsolved puzzle. In 1586, a local priest reported that the islanders spoke a unique language completely unlike any tribe found on the mainland. The only concrete link we have is that the basalt statues discovered on Ometepe share the exact artistic style as those found on the nearby island of Zapatera, which were famously dedicated to the Chorotega civilization.
The 19th-Century Discoveries of Dr. Bransford
Through the pioneering work of a certain Dr. J. F. Bransford, who in 1872 conducted studies for an interoceanic steamship company, it became clear early on that Nicaragua was a goldmine of fascinating ceramics and archaeological wonders. During his field investigations in 1876 and 1877 near Moyogalpa, Bransford noted that the Concepción volcano was completely forested all the way to its summit, correctly predicting that it would become active again within the next five years. He also noted that the Río Istián, which forms the natural boundary separating the twin volcanoes of Concepción and Maderas, could easily be navigated by canoe during the rainy season. At that time, the island’s population was estimated at just 3,000 people, with most residing in Altagracia—the main village—and about 500 scattered across the rest of the island. In terms of their physical appearance, they perfectly mirrored today’s Ometepinos, who traditionally retain the distinctive features of their ancient Chorotega ancestors.
Through the pioneering work of a certain Dr. J. F. Bransford, who in 1872 conducted studies for an interoceanic steamship company, it became clear early on that Nicaragua was a goldmine of fascinating ceramics and archaeological wonders. During his field investigations in 1876 and 1877 near Moyogalpa, Bransford noted that the Concepción volcano was completely forested all the way to its summit, correctly predicting that it would become active again within the next five years. He also noted that the Río Istián, which forms the natural boundary separating the twin volcanoes of Concepción and Maderas, could easily be navigated by canoe during the rainy season. At that time, the island’s population was estimated at just 3,000 people, with most residing in Altagracia—the main village—and about 500 scattered across the rest of the island. In terms of their physical appearance, they perfectly mirrored today’s Ometepinos, who traditionally retain the distinctive features of their ancient Chorotega ancestors.
The Giants of Maderas and the Secret Gods
Interestingly, Dr. Bransford discovered a striking contrast on the sparsely populated Maderas side of the island, where the inhabitants were remarkably tall. Many of the men stood well over six feet tall (nearly 1.90 meters), the women were equally broad-built, and they possessed uniquely striking facial features. Furthermore, these Maderas residents fiercely refused to reveal the exact locations of their ancestral basalt idols. This led Bransford to believe they still secretly worshiped the statues as active deities, unlike the locals on the Concepción side, who were perfectly happy to show off the archaeological sites because the figures held no spiritual meaning for them. Today, unfortunately, much of this ancient knowledge has faded into oblivion. Only the weathered petroglyphs scattered across the island and the surviving idol statues housed in the museum of Altagracia and in Managua remain to tell the story of this mysterious, thousand-year-old era.
Interestingly, Dr. Bransford discovered a striking contrast on the sparsely populated Maderas side of the island, where the inhabitants were remarkably tall. Many of the men stood well over six feet tall (nearly 1.90 meters), the women were equally broad-built, and they possessed uniquely striking facial features. Furthermore, these Maderas residents fiercely refused to reveal the exact locations of their ancestral basalt idols. This led Bransford to believe they still secretly worshiped the statues as active deities, unlike the locals on the Concepción side, who were perfectly happy to show off the archaeological sites because the figures held no spiritual meaning for them. Today, unfortunately, much of this ancient knowledge has faded into oblivion. Only the weathered petroglyphs scattered across the island and the surviving idol statues housed in the museum of Altagracia and in Managua remain to tell the story of this mysterious, thousand-year-old era.
The Two Mountains of the Moon
Derived from its ancient indigenous roots, the name Ometepe literally translates to "the two mountains." Forming a perfect figure-eight inside the lake, the island’s unique geography is shaped by its twin peaks: the highly active Concepción (1,610m) and the dormant Maderas (1,394m). Separating these two distinct halves is the Río Istián, a natural river boundary that was fully navigable by boat during past rainy seasons but has now become completely impassable due to the sheer density of the overgrown tropical fauna. Interestingly, a famous historical Nicaraguan postage stamp depicting the erupting Concepción volcano with a steamship in the foreground popularized another indigenous name: Mestlitepe, which translates to "the menstruating mountain." However, the most widely used alternative name remains Choncotecihuatepe, meaning "brother of the moon"—a poetic title that makes perfect sense to anyone lucky enough to witness the unforgettable sight of a full moon rising directly over the volcanic summit of Concepción.
Derived from its ancient indigenous roots, the name Ometepe literally translates to "the two mountains." Forming a perfect figure-eight inside the lake, the island’s unique geography is shaped by its twin peaks: the highly active Concepción (1,610m) and the dormant Maderas (1,394m). Separating these two distinct halves is the Río Istián, a natural river boundary that was fully navigable by boat during past rainy seasons but has now become completely impassable due to the sheer density of the overgrown tropical fauna. Interestingly, a famous historical Nicaraguan postage stamp depicting the erupting Concepción volcano with a steamship in the foreground popularized another indigenous name: Mestlitepe, which translates to "the menstruating mountain." However, the most widely used alternative name remains Choncotecihuatepe, meaning "brother of the moon"—a poetic title that makes perfect sense to anyone lucky enough to witness the unforgettable sight of a full moon rising directly over the volcanic summit of Concepción.
Jungle Orphans and Dining with Horses (2022)
Before we dive back into the historic trails and ancient wonders of the island, here is a little slice of the wonderfully chaotic everyday life on Ometepe. During my long stay in 2022, I developed a massive soft spot for a quirky local restaurant where boredom simply didn't exist. The incredibly kind owner turned the place into a mini jungle sanctuary; one day you’d walk in to find tiny, orphaned baby howler monkeys (congo monkeys) that she had rescued and was tenderly nursing back to health, and the next day, you’d be casually sipping your coffee while a beautiful white horse leisurely strolled straight through the open-air dining area. On Ometepe, nature and human life don't just coexist—they completely blur together in the most entertaining ways possible.
Before we dive back into the historic trails and ancient wonders of the island, here is a little slice of the wonderfully chaotic everyday life on Ometepe. During my long stay in 2022, I developed a massive soft spot for a quirky local restaurant where boredom simply didn't exist. The incredibly kind owner turned the place into a mini jungle sanctuary; one day you’d walk in to find tiny, orphaned baby howler monkeys (congo monkeys) that she had rescued and was tenderly nursing back to health, and the next day, you’d be casually sipping your coffee while a beautiful white horse leisurely strolled straight through the open-air dining area. On Ometepe, nature and human life don't just coexist—they completely blur together in the most entertaining ways possible.
Paddling the Magic of Río Istián (2002)
One of the absolute must-do adventures on Ometepe is exploring the mystical waters of the Río Istián, the natural boundary that nearly slices the island into two volcanic halves. Navigating this swampy river is a completely different experience depending on when you visit; during the rainy season, the water rises high enough to make paddling smooth and effortless, whereas the dry season turns it into a shallow, grueling obstacle course. The journey begins with a scenic paddle along the lake's shores, taking you past the quiet, familiar communities of Mérida and El Perú. But the real magic happens the moment you enter the river mouth: the open lake vanishes, replaced by a dense, silent labyrinth of tropical flora and fauna where time completely stands still.
One of the absolute must-do adventures on Ometepe is exploring the mystical waters of the Río Istián, the natural boundary that nearly slices the island into two volcanic halves. Navigating this swampy river is a completely different experience depending on when you visit; during the rainy season, the water rises high enough to make paddling smooth and effortless, whereas the dry season turns it into a shallow, grueling obstacle course. The journey begins with a scenic paddle along the lake's shores, taking you past the quiet, familiar communities of Mérida and El Perú. But the real magic happens the moment you enter the river mouth: the open lake vanishes, replaced by a dense, silent labyrinth of tropical flora and fauna where time completely stands still.
Mérida's coast is also famous for its coconut-fringed beaches.
A 20-Year Echo on the Water (2022)
Two decades after my first wild expedition, 2022 gave me the beautiful opportunity to return to this watery paradise multiple times. Fernando was incredibly generous and lent me his kayaks completely for free whenever I wanted to venture out. The absolute highlight, however, was heading back into the heart of the Río Istián alongside Iñigo. Gliding through those familiar, overgrown green corridors together after 20 long years felt entirely surreal—a peaceful contrast to the chaos and gunfire we had escaped from on those very same shores back in our youth.
Two decades after my first wild expedition, 2022 gave me the beautiful opportunity to return to this watery paradise multiple times. Fernando was incredibly generous and lent me his kayaks completely for free whenever I wanted to venture out. The absolute highlight, however, was heading back into the heart of the Río Istián alongside Iñigo. Gliding through those familiar, overgrown green corridors together after 20 long years felt entirely surreal—a peaceful contrast to the chaos and gunfire we had escaped from on those very same shores back in our youth.
The Controversy of Monkey Island
Our paddling route also brought us back to Isla de los Monos (Monkey Island), a small islet sitting directly in the bay of Hacienda Mérida. Returning here stirred up old memories and a bit of lingering frustration. Even way back in 2002, during our very first visit to the island, we had strongly criticized Alvaro for his controversial idea of releasing capuchin and spider monkeys onto this tiny patch of land purely as a shallow tourist attraction. Seeing the island again with Iñigo reminded us that while Ometepe’s raw, natural beauty remains unmatched, the complicated relationship between modern tourism and wildlife conservation has been an ongoing battle here for decades.
Our paddling route also brought us back to Isla de los Monos (Monkey Island), a small islet sitting directly in the bay of Hacienda Mérida. Returning here stirred up old memories and a bit of lingering frustration. Even way back in 2002, during our very first visit to the island, we had strongly criticized Alvaro for his controversial idea of releasing capuchin and spider monkeys onto this tiny patch of land purely as a shallow tourist attraction. Seeing the island again with Iñigo reminded us that while Ometepe’s raw, natural beauty remains unmatched, the complicated relationship between modern tourism and wildlife conservation has been an ongoing battle here for decades.
The Vanishing Primates of Monkey Island (2002)
The photographs I captured back in 2002 are true historical documents now, as my analog lens managed to catch both distinct monkey species that Alvaro had originally released on the islet. Today, the reality on the water has changed significantly; only one of the two monkey species still remains on the island. Over the years, the local ecosystem adapted, and now it is the village fishermen and local guides who regularly paddle out in their small wooden boats, bringing fresh fruit and food to the surviving primates to ensure their well-being in their isolated home.
The photographs I captured back in 2002 are true historical documents now, as my analog lens managed to catch both distinct monkey species that Alvaro had originally released on the islet. Today, the reality on the water has changed significantly; only one of the two monkey species still remains on the island. Over the years, the local ecosystem adapted, and now it is the village fishermen and local guides who regularly paddle out in their small wooden boats, bringing fresh fruit and food to the surviving primates to ensure their well-being in their isolated home.
Conquering the Bay: The 3-Kilometer Swim
By 2019, my relationship with this specific stretch of water took on a whole new, athletic meaning. Looking out across the vast expanse of the lake from the shore, I decided to challenge myself to a long-distance open-water swim from Fernando's hostel straight to Monkey Island. The distance was a grueling three kilometers one way. To ensure my safety in the unpredictable lake currents—and keeping in mind that these very waters are famous for being the home of the world's only freshwater bull sharks—I was accompanied by Alexander, the father of my son Felipe and a Mérida native. He tracked right alongside me in his boat, keeping a watchful eye on my progress and the deep water below.
By 2019, my relationship with this specific stretch of water took on a whole new, athletic meaning. Looking out across the vast expanse of the lake from the shore, I decided to challenge myself to a long-distance open-water swim from Fernando's hostel straight to Monkey Island. The distance was a grueling three kilometers one way. To ensure my safety in the unpredictable lake currents—and keeping in mind that these very waters are famous for being the home of the world's only freshwater bull sharks—I was accompanied by Alexander, the father of my son Felipe and a Mérida native. He tracked right alongside me in his boat, keeping a watchful eye on my progress and the deep water below.
A 90-Minute Battle Against the Lake
It took me a solid hour and a half of intense, rhythmic swimming to conquer the distance and finally touch the shores of the island. Fighting the chop, the exhaustingly vast scale of Lake Nicaragua, and the slight mental shiver of what prehistoric creatures might be lurking beneath me was an exhilarating but utterly exhausting experience. Once I reached the island, I gladly skipped the swim back; I climbed into Alexander’s boat, threw on a towel, and enjoyed a peaceful, well-deserved ride back to Fernando's, feeling a deep sense of pride in having conquered the bay.
It took me a solid hour and a half of intense, rhythmic swimming to conquer the distance and finally touch the shores of the island. Fighting the chop, the exhaustingly vast scale of Lake Nicaragua, and the slight mental shiver of what prehistoric creatures might be lurking beneath me was an exhilarating but utterly exhausting experience. Once I reached the island, I gladly skipped the swim back; I climbed into Alexander’s boat, threw on a towel, and enjoyed a peaceful, well-deserved ride back to Fernando's, feeling a deep sense of pride in having conquered the bay.
Today, tourists visiting the idyllic shores of El Perú walk past without a single clue that back in 2002, seven local families had their homes brutally leveled to the ground right here during the ruthless land evictions.
Playa El Peru
Playa Santo Domingo
(2002)
Swinging Waves and Twin Volcanoes
Isla Ometepe is world-renowned for its unique freshwater beaches, and without a doubt, the most beautiful and easily accessible of them all is Playa Santo Domingo. Located on the eastern side of the island right at the foot of the Río Istián, its long, volcanic gray sand shore stretches out for over a kilometer. Standing in the cool, refreshing water gives you a breathtaking, panoramic view of both volcanic giants, Concepción and Maderas, at the exact same time. This beach is also the only spot on the entire island where the waves swell high but remain incredibly gentle, softly rocking you back and forth in a peaceful, natural rhythm.
An Invitation from the Mayor and a German Legacy
Back in 2002, when the news of the shocking Mérida shooting spread across the island, the Mayor of Ometepe—who resided right there in Playa Santo Domingo—reached out and invited us to his community. We were welcomed into one of the beautiful local hotel resorts for a safe haven. When he realized that three of us were German, his face lit up, and he brought out a very special book to show us. It documented the inspiring journey of a German couple who had traveled to Isla Ometepe back in 1993. Long before the island became a modern travel hub, this couple had dedicated their lives to the community, constructing the very first proper health centers and primary schools for the local children—a beautiful reminder of the deep, long-standing connections between Germany and this magical island.
(2002)
Swinging Waves and Twin Volcanoes
Isla Ometepe is world-renowned for its unique freshwater beaches, and without a doubt, the most beautiful and easily accessible of them all is Playa Santo Domingo. Located on the eastern side of the island right at the foot of the Río Istián, its long, volcanic gray sand shore stretches out for over a kilometer. Standing in the cool, refreshing water gives you a breathtaking, panoramic view of both volcanic giants, Concepción and Maderas, at the exact same time. This beach is also the only spot on the entire island where the waves swell high but remain incredibly gentle, softly rocking you back and forth in a peaceful, natural rhythm.
An Invitation from the Mayor and a German Legacy
Back in 2002, when the news of the shocking Mérida shooting spread across the island, the Mayor of Ometepe—who resided right there in Playa Santo Domingo—reached out and invited us to his community. We were welcomed into one of the beautiful local hotel resorts for a safe haven. When he realized that three of us were German, his face lit up, and he brought out a very special book to show us. It documented the inspiring journey of a German couple who had traveled to Isla Ometepe back in 1993. Long before the island became a modern travel hub, this couple had dedicated their lives to the community, constructing the very first proper health centers and primary schools for the local children—a beautiful reminder of the deep, long-standing connections between Germany and this magical island.
A Waterlogged Reality Check (2008)
I always have to laugh when I look back at that poetic description of gentle waves, because when I returned to Santo Domingo in 2008, the lake decided to show its true power. The entire beautiful beach had completely vanished underwater! The lake had risen so dramatically that even the lakeside hotels were partially flooded. I still have hilarious photos from that 2008 trip showing a local restaurant where the entire dining area—tables, chairs, and all—was completely submerged, forcing anyone who wanted a drink to practically swim for their order. Cocibolca always finds a way to remind you who is the real boss around here!
I always have to laugh when I look back at that poetic description of gentle waves, because when I returned to Santo Domingo in 2008, the lake decided to show its true power. The entire beautiful beach had completely vanished underwater! The lake had risen so dramatically that even the lakeside hotels were partially flooded. I still have hilarious photos from that 2008 trip showing a local restaurant where the entire dining area—tables, chairs, and all—was completely submerged, forcing anyone who wanted a drink to practically swim for their order. Cocibolca always finds a way to remind you who is the real boss around here!
Ojo de Agua
The Enchanted Mirror of 2002
Just a short distance from the shores of Playa Santo Domingo lies a natural volcanic spring known to the oldest locals as Ojo Azul, though widely called Ojo de Agua today. Back in 2002, stumbling upon this hidden waterhole felt like stepping directly into a mythological fairytale. Fed by pristine, ice-cold underground rivers, the crystal-clear water shimmered with a deep blue hue under a dense canopy of ancient, overarching trees. The air was thick with the scent of wild damp earth, and the utter silence was only broken by the rustle of leaves. Standing there, you felt as if dozens of tiny, invisible eyes were watching you from the thickets—a mystical sanctuary where you genuinely expected a crowd of elusive jungle elves to step out from behind the ferns at any given second.
The Enchanted Mirror of 2002
Just a short distance from the shores of Playa Santo Domingo lies a natural volcanic spring known to the oldest locals as Ojo Azul, though widely called Ojo de Agua today. Back in 2002, stumbling upon this hidden waterhole felt like stepping directly into a mythological fairytale. Fed by pristine, ice-cold underground rivers, the crystal-clear water shimmered with a deep blue hue under a dense canopy of ancient, overarching trees. The air was thick with the scent of wild damp earth, and the utter silence was only broken by the rustle of leaves. Standing there, you felt as if dozens of tiny, invisible eyes were watching you from the thickets—a mystical sanctuary where you genuinely expected a crowd of elusive jungle elves to step out from behind the ferns at any given second.
The Price of Progress: Twenty Years Later
When I finally journeyed back to this exact coordinates in 2022, exactly twenty years after my first visit, the sight hit me like a physical blow. The mystical, wild oasis of my youth had vanished. Driven by the island's booming tourism industry, developers had stepped in and thoroughly commercialized the spring. The wild, earthen edges of the pool have been completely rimmed with cold cement, transforming a sacred natural pool into a structured, chlorinated swimming attraction. The ancient, towering trees that once cast long, protective shadows over the water were largely cut down to make way for a sprawling parking lot, large open-air restaurants, concrete bathrooms, and souvenir stands. Today, instead of solitary peace, the air is filled with the echoes of loud music, splashing crowds on rope swings, and rows of commercial plastic lounge chairs. It is a heartbreaking reminder of how fragile paradise truly is under the heavy foot of modern commercialization.
When I finally journeyed back to this exact coordinates in 2022, exactly twenty years after my first visit, the sight hit me like a physical blow. The mystical, wild oasis of my youth had vanished. Driven by the island's booming tourism industry, developers had stepped in and thoroughly commercialized the spring. The wild, earthen edges of the pool have been completely rimmed with cold cement, transforming a sacred natural pool into a structured, chlorinated swimming attraction. The ancient, towering trees that once cast long, protective shadows over the water were largely cut down to make way for a sprawling parking lot, large open-air restaurants, concrete bathrooms, and souvenir stands. Today, instead of solitary peace, the air is filled with the echoes of loud music, splashing crowds on rope swings, and rows of commercial plastic lounge chairs. It is a heartbreaking reminder of how fragile paradise truly is under the heavy foot of modern commercialization.
The Legend of Xolotl and the Dance of the Twigs
Every November, the island pulses with a unique cultural energy as the locals gather to celebrate a festival originally dedicated to Xolotl, the ancient indigenous god of the harvest. According to local lore, a devastating plague of voracious red ants once threatened to completely destroy the island's crops. In a desperate bid to save his people, the village shaman performed mystical ritual ceremonies and instructed the community to execute a specific, rhythmic dance, beating the ground with the branches of various sacred trees. The strategy worked, the insect catastrophe was miraculously banished, and a deeply rooted tradition was born. Centuries later, when the Spanish conquistadors arrived, they tried to erase the pagan roots by dedicated the festival to the Catholic Saint San Diego, but the ancient spirit of the dance lives on to this day, blending pre-Columbian mysticism with modern folklore.
Every November, the island pulses with a unique cultural energy as the locals gather to celebrate a festival originally dedicated to Xolotl, the ancient indigenous god of the harvest. According to local lore, a devastating plague of voracious red ants once threatened to completely destroy the island's crops. In a desperate bid to save his people, the village shaman performed mystical ritual ceremonies and instructed the community to execute a specific, rhythmic dance, beating the ground with the branches of various sacred trees. The strategy worked, the insect catastrophe was miraculously banished, and a deeply rooted tradition was born. Centuries later, when the Spanish conquistadors arrived, they tried to erase the pagan roots by dedicated the festival to the Catholic Saint San Diego, but the ancient spirit of the dance lives on to this day, blending pre-Columbian mysticism with modern folklore.
Moyogalpa
The Faded Idyllic Gateway
Back in 2002, my first impressions of the island were shaped by the small gateway village of Moyogalpa, which translates to "the place of mosquitoes"—though ironical enough, mosquitoes were rarely a major issue there. Situated on the western shores directly opposite Altagracia, Moyogalpa was, and still is, the primary entry point for most travelers. The reason is simple efficiency: the ferry crossing from the mainland at San Jorge takes a mere 30 minutes, whereas the arduous journey from Granada to Altagracia drags on for a grueling four hours aboard old banana boats that double as passenger transports. In those early days, Moyogalpa was a quiet, wonderfully sleepy village. Its streets were lined with simple, brightly painted wooden houses and inhabited by incredibly friendly, soft-spoken locals, leaving an impression of absolute peace and untouched charm.
The Faded Idyllic Gateway
Back in 2002, my first impressions of the island were shaped by the small gateway village of Moyogalpa, which translates to "the place of mosquitoes"—though ironical enough, mosquitoes were rarely a major issue there. Situated on the western shores directly opposite Altagracia, Moyogalpa was, and still is, the primary entry point for most travelers. The reason is simple efficiency: the ferry crossing from the mainland at San Jorge takes a mere 30 minutes, whereas the arduous journey from Granada to Altagracia drags on for a grueling four hours aboard old banana boats that double as passenger transports. In those early days, Moyogalpa was a quiet, wonderfully sleepy village. Its streets were lined with simple, brightly painted wooden houses and inhabited by incredibly friendly, soft-spoken locals, leaving an impression of absolute peace and untouched charm.
The Shock of Modern Chaos and the Intersecting Runway
That peaceful, sleepy atmosphere, however, is a thing of the distant past. Returning decades later, I was stunned to find a bustling hub overrun by heavy traffic, modern hotels, and noisy motorbikes. But the ultimate shock came just outside the village borders at Ometepe's relatively new airport. The runway layout defies all conventional logic: it was constructed right across the main public road that connects Moyogalpa to the rest of the island! Whenever a flight is scheduled to arrive or depart, police forces have to physically block off the entire public road traffic, making cars, scooters, and pedestrians wait behind barriers so the airplane can safely use the asphalt as a landing strip. Seeing this bizarre collision of modern infrastructure and chaotic island improvisation left me completely speechless—a far cry from the serene paradise I first stepped foot in.
That peaceful, sleepy atmosphere, however, is a thing of the distant past. Returning decades later, I was stunned to find a bustling hub overrun by heavy traffic, modern hotels, and noisy motorbikes. But the ultimate shock came just outside the village borders at Ometepe's relatively new airport. The runway layout defies all conventional logic: it was constructed right across the main public road that connects Moyogalpa to the rest of the island! Whenever a flight is scheduled to arrive or depart, police forces have to physically block off the entire public road traffic, making cars, scooters, and pedestrians wait behind barriers so the airplane can safely use the asphalt as a landing strip. Seeing this bizarre collision of modern infrastructure and chaotic island improvisation left me completely speechless—a far cry from the serene paradise I first stepped foot in.
Balgue & Punta Gorda in 2002
Freedom Lost
Back in 2002, exploring the areas around Balgüe and Punta Gorda was a dream of absolute freedom. The entire coastline consisted of pristine, empty bays where the water was fully accessible to everyone, and you could simply wander through the wild landscape without a single barrier in sight. Fast forward to 2022, and the reality was devastating. The once-public shores have been carved up into fenced-off private properties, with a massive portion of the land sold to wealthy foreign investors. Gated luxury homes and strict "No Trespassing" signs now block the very paths we used to roam freely, turning a communal paradise into a collection of exclusive estates.
Charco Verde: The Emerald Myth and the Lost Sandspit
Another legendary crown jewel of Ometepe’s nature is the mystical lagoon of Charco Verde, famous for its still, dark green waters that owe their dramatic emerald hue to an abundance of native algae. Shrouded in rich local folklore—including tales of Chico Largo, a mythical demon said to guard the lagoon’s bottom—this place was once a silent, deeply spiritual sanctuary where ancient tribes held sacred ceremonies. Back in 2008, the ultimate adventure here was trying to walk out along the narrow, natural sandspit that cut beautifully through the water, separating the quiet lagoon from the crashing waves of the main lake. Standing on that thin ribbon of sand felt like walking a tightrope between two entirely different worlds or it looked like you are Jesus walking on the water.
Submerged by Time
If you return today, however, it is best to keep that beautiful memory locked safely in your mind. The unyielding forces of nature and time have completely reshaped the landscape. Due to rising water levels in Lake Cocibolca and heavy environmental erosion, that iconic, pristine sandspit has largely been swallowed by the lake, leaving the dramatic walk into the water a thing of the past. Furthermore, the raw, free-spirited access of the 2000s has been commercialized; Charco Verde is now a heavily structured, fenced-off ecological reserve with a strict entrance fee. While the tropical dry forest still offers a beautiful shelter for wild howler monkeys and migrating birds, the untamed, lonely magic of the shifting sands has officially been reclaimed by the deep.
Another legendary crown jewel of Ometepe’s nature is the mystical lagoon of Charco Verde, famous for its still, dark green waters that owe their dramatic emerald hue to an abundance of native algae. Shrouded in rich local folklore—including tales of Chico Largo, a mythical demon said to guard the lagoon’s bottom—this place was once a silent, deeply spiritual sanctuary where ancient tribes held sacred ceremonies. Back in 2008, the ultimate adventure here was trying to walk out along the narrow, natural sandspit that cut beautifully through the water, separating the quiet lagoon from the crashing waves of the main lake. Standing on that thin ribbon of sand felt like walking a tightrope between two entirely different worlds or it looked like you are Jesus walking on the water.
Submerged by Time
If you return today, however, it is best to keep that beautiful memory locked safely in your mind. The unyielding forces of nature and time have completely reshaped the landscape. Due to rising water levels in Lake Cocibolca and heavy environmental erosion, that iconic, pristine sandspit has largely been swallowed by the lake, leaving the dramatic walk into the water a thing of the past. Furthermore, the raw, free-spirited access of the 2000s has been commercialized; Charco Verde is now a heavily structured, fenced-off ecological reserve with a strict entrance fee. While the tropical dry forest still offers a beautiful shelter for wild howler monkeys and migrating birds, the untamed, lonely magic of the shifting sands has officially been reclaimed by the deep.
The Bone-Rattling Dirt Tracks of 2002
To truly understand how isolated Mérida was back in 2002, you only have to look at the state of the roads—or rather, the complete lack thereof. Our main connection to the rest of the island was a raw, unpaved dirt track completely riddled with massive craters and deep trenches. Traveling just 12 kilometers aboard the old, rattling public bus felt like an endless, four-hour endurance test. During the dry season, the path became a suffocating cloud of thick volcanic dust that blanketed everything, while the tropical downpours of the rainy season violently washed out the terrain, turning the track into a treacherous matrix of thick mud and exposed rocks. It was exhausting, bone-rattling, and beautifully adventurous.
To truly understand how isolated Mérida was back in 2002, you only have to look at the state of the roads—or rather, the complete lack thereof. Our main connection to the rest of the island was a raw, unpaved dirt track completely riddled with massive craters and deep trenches. Traveling just 12 kilometers aboard the old, rattling public bus felt like an endless, four-hour endurance test. During the dry season, the path became a suffocating cloud of thick volcanic dust that blanketed everything, while the tropical downpours of the rainy season violently washed out the terrain, turning the track into a treacherous matrix of thick mud and exposed rocks. It was exhausting, bone-rattling, and beautifully adventurous.
Altagracia: The Ancient Indigenous Heart
Situated on the eastern slopes of the Concepción volcano lies Altagracia, the historical and cultural capital of the island. Long before the Spanish arrival, this region was fiercely contested by two rival indigenous tribes inhabiting the settlements of Aztagalpa (meaning "Eagle’s Nest") and Cosonigalpa. The tense rivalry eventually forced the residents of Cosonigalpa to flee toward the bay of Sinacapa. Today, the village square stands as a proud open-air sanctuary, displaying massive pre-Columbian basalt sculptures dating back to 800 AD. These ancient carvings beautifully represent human forms intertwined with their spiritual alters—most notably the revered eagle and the powerful jaguar, symbols engineered to signal ultimate strength and authority. For anyone wanting to dig deeper into the island’s roots, the local museum houses a breathtaking collection of pre-Columbian ceramics and additional ceremonial stone idols from this forgotten era.
Situated on the eastern slopes of the Concepción volcano lies Altagracia, the historical and cultural capital of the island. Long before the Spanish arrival, this region was fiercely contested by two rival indigenous tribes inhabiting the settlements of Aztagalpa (meaning "Eagle’s Nest") and Cosonigalpa. The tense rivalry eventually forced the residents of Cosonigalpa to flee toward the bay of Sinacapa. Today, the village square stands as a proud open-air sanctuary, displaying massive pre-Columbian basalt sculptures dating back to 800 AD. These ancient carvings beautifully represent human forms intertwined with their spiritual alters—most notably the revered eagle and the powerful jaguar, symbols engineered to signal ultimate strength and authority. For anyone wanting to dig deeper into the island’s roots, the local museum houses a breathtaking collection of pre-Columbian ceramics and additional ceremonial stone idols from this forgotten era.
The Old-School Magic of the Village Fair
My analog snapshots of Altagracia capture the vibrant essence of the annual village fair, a celebration packed with a beautifully raw, nostalgic energy. The amusement attractions were a far cry from modern theme parks, operating entirely on mechanical minimalism and local improvisation. One centerpiece was a skeletal, hand-cranked Ferris wheel spinning against the cloudy sky, featuring open metal cages that functioned more like high-flying swings where children clung tightly to simple iron bars without a single safety margin in sight. Nearby, a rustic gambling stall drew eager crowds around a homemade wheel of fortune rimmed with simple iron nails acting as stoppers. In front of it sat a hand-painted wooden betting board, operated by a local Nica who called out to the passing crowd with a wide, infectious grin and theatrical charisma. Surrounded by fascinated onlookers and excited children gathered on the grassy square, this scene perfectly reflects the pure joy of Ometepe’s community life—where a piece of wood, a few nails, and a spinning wheel were all it took to create an unforgettable evening.
My analog snapshots of Altagracia capture the vibrant essence of the annual village fair, a celebration packed with a beautifully raw, nostalgic energy. The amusement attractions were a far cry from modern theme parks, operating entirely on mechanical minimalism and local improvisation. One centerpiece was a skeletal, hand-cranked Ferris wheel spinning against the cloudy sky, featuring open metal cages that functioned more like high-flying swings where children clung tightly to simple iron bars without a single safety margin in sight. Nearby, a rustic gambling stall drew eager crowds around a homemade wheel of fortune rimmed with simple iron nails acting as stoppers. In front of it sat a hand-painted wooden betting board, operated by a local Nica who called out to the passing crowd with a wide, infectious grin and theatrical charisma. Surrounded by fascinated onlookers and excited children gathered on the grassy square, this scene perfectly reflects the pure joy of Ometepe’s community life—where a piece of wood, a few nails, and a spinning wheel were all it took to create an unforgettable evening.
PETROGLYPHS
(Rock engravings of the Isla de Ometepe)
Arenal from Finca Magdalena
Two on a Bone-Shaker: The Hunt Begins
Chasing the ancient secrets of Isla Ometepe back in 2002 was the ultimate definition of a raw jungle adventure. I didn't have a 4x4 or a guide map; instead, my expedition leader was Pedro, a wonderfully kind local from Mérida. Together, we balanced precariously on a single, battered old bicycle, pushing this squeaking "wire donkey" over dirt tracks that couldn't even legally be called roads. Bumping through deep trenches, clouding ourselves in volcanic dust, and laughing through the exhaustion, Pedro took me to hidden corners of the island that few outsiders had ever laid eyes on.
Chasing the ancient secrets of Isla Ometepe back in 2002 was the ultimate definition of a raw jungle adventure. I didn't have a 4x4 or a guide map; instead, my expedition leader was Pedro, a wonderfully kind local from Mérida. Together, we balanced precariously on a single, battered old bicycle, pushing this squeaking "wire donkey" over dirt tracks that couldn't even legally be called roads. Bumping through deep trenches, clouding ourselves in volcanic dust, and laughing through the exhaustion, Pedro took me to hidden corners of the island that few outsiders had ever laid eyes on.
A Landscape Carved in Stone
What makes Ometepe truly unique is its staggering abundance of petroglyphs—ancient rock engravings shrouded in absolute mystery. These basalt boulders are scattered across the entire island, though the vast majority are concentrated on the untamed Maderas side. From the coffee hills of Finca Magdalena and Hacienda El Porvenir to remote fields in La Primavera, La Cigüeña, Mérida, San Ramón, and La Palmera, the island acts as a massive, open-air gallery of prehistoric art.
What makes Ometepe truly unique is its staggering abundance of petroglyphs—ancient rock engravings shrouded in absolute mystery. These basalt boulders are scattered across the entire island, though the vast majority are concentrated on the untamed Maderas side. From the coffee hills of Finca Magdalena and Hacienda El Porvenir to remote fields in La Primavera, La Cigüeña, Mérida, San Ramón, and La Palmera, the island acts as a massive, open-air gallery of prehistoric art.
El Chaguital
Camino de Mérida (above)
Hacienda El Socorro (below)
Hacienda El Socorro (below)
Hacienda El Socorro
Swallowed by the Lake and the Jungle
But this ancient heritage is caught in a fragile battle against time and the elements. In San Ramón, dozens of petroglyphs are scattered right along the water’s edge. Centuries ago, when the lake level was lower, these stones formed part of a sprawling sandy beach. Today, many are partially or completely submerged. However, I learned in 2022 that during a severe drought around 2018, the lake receded so dramatically that the shifting tides revealed a mind-blowing sight: literally hundreds of forgotten petroglyphs normally hidden beneath the surface of San Ramón came back to light. Tragically, the dry land isn't safer; when I explored the area with Iñigo in 2022, we realized that the local community rarely maintains these sites. Uncounted boulders have been completely engulfed by the aggressive jungle, smothered by thick grass and wild vines—surrendered to the slow erosion of history.
But this ancient heritage is caught in a fragile battle against time and the elements. In San Ramón, dozens of petroglyphs are scattered right along the water’s edge. Centuries ago, when the lake level was lower, these stones formed part of a sprawling sandy beach. Today, many are partially or completely submerged. However, I learned in 2022 that during a severe drought around 2018, the lake receded so dramatically that the shifting tides revealed a mind-blowing sight: literally hundreds of forgotten petroglyphs normally hidden beneath the surface of San Ramón came back to light. Tragically, the dry land isn't safer; when I explored the area with Iñigo in 2022, we realized that the local community rarely maintains these sites. Uncounted boulders have been completely engulfed by the aggressive jungle, smothered by thick grass and wild vines—surrendered to the slow erosion of history.
Hacienda El Socorro
Spirit Trails and the Magic Eight
The petroglyphs that have survived the jungle's embrace radiate an undeniable, mystical energy. The weathered basalt surfaces are dominated by geometric symbols, intricate circles, and—most commonly—deeply carved spirals. Local folklore suggests that these spirals might actually represent the unique figure-eight shape of Ometepe itself, acting as ancient trail markers or territorial maps for the indigenous tribes. Yet, in a land where the past is built on whispers, these poetic theories remain beautiful speculations, unproven by modern science.
Hacienda El Porvenir
Alien Kings and Ancient Sovereigns
Equally mesmerizing are the stylized figures that look less like ordinary humans and more like creatures from another world. Many boulders feature large, eerie, round heads that bear a striking resemblance to popular depictions of extraterrestrials. Other full-body carvings look remarkably like giant ants or monkeys rather than people. Anthropologists interpret these strange, towering figures as the highly stylized representations of ancient tribal kings and queens, meant to project supreme spiritual power and authority over the land.
Below: Hacienda El Porvenir and Hacienda El Socorro
Camino de Mérida
Fertility and the Heavens
The theme of fertility also screams from the stone. Many male figures are carved with vastly exaggerated phalluses, signaling vital energy and the continuation of life. Animal guards like the sacred turtle—another powerful pre-Columbian symbol of fertility—and the revered serpent are woven into the rocks. At Hacienda El Porvenir, one can find a spectacular "Sun Disc," a complex carving that some mystics believe represents an otherworldly craft, though historians view it as a terrifying representation of the god of death. Meanwhile, the region of El Socorro boasts an intricate, ancient solar calendar etched into the basalt.
Camino de Mérida
The Samet Secret: A Softening Fluid
How these ancient people created such precise art remains one of Ometepe's most frustrating riddles. The boulders consist of incredibly hard, dense volcanic basalt. No pre-Columbian metal tools have ever been excavated on the island, and carving into raw lava stone with simple flint is virtually impossible. To explain this, the older Ometepinos tell a fantastic legend: they say their ancestors possessed a secret, magical fluid made from rare jungle plants. When rubbed onto the hard rock, the substance allegedly softened the basalt surface until it became as pliable as soft velvet, allowing the artists to easily trace their symbols before the stone hardened once more.
How these ancient people created such precise art remains one of Ometepe's most frustrating riddles. The boulders consist of incredibly hard, dense volcanic basalt. No pre-Columbian metal tools have ever been excavated on the island, and carving into raw lava stone with simple flint is virtually impossible. To explain this, the older Ometepinos tell a fantastic legend: they say their ancestors possessed a secret, magical fluid made from rare jungle plants. When rubbed onto the hard rock, the substance allegedly softened the basalt surface until it became as pliable as soft velvet, allowing the artists to easily trace their symbols before the stone hardened once more.
San Ramón
Whispers of a South American Migration
Whether these spiral lines represent an early form of written language, or what exact role they played in sacred rituals and deity worship, remains completely unknown. The only concrete clue lies thousands of miles away: the artistic style of Ometepe's carvings shares a striking, undeniable resemblance to ancient rock paintings found in South America, particularly in Peru. Given that massive human migrations surged across the newly formed continental land bridge thousands of years ago, it is highly likely that a nomadic tribe traveling from the south settled on the island, keeping their ancient artistic traditions alive in the middle of the great lake.
Whether these spiral lines represent an early form of written language, or what exact role they played in sacred rituals and deity worship, remains completely unknown. The only concrete clue lies thousands of miles away: the artistic style of Ometepe's carvings shares a striking, undeniable resemblance to ancient rock paintings found in South America, particularly in Peru. Given that massive human migrations surged across the newly formed continental land bridge thousands of years ago, it is highly likely that a nomadic tribe traveling from the south settled on the island, keeping their ancient artistic traditions alive in the middle of the great lake.
Zona Pulman near Balgue (unfortunately hard to make out: a monkey)
Two different petroglyphs in the banana plantations of Mérida (unfortunately, some people deface the stones by re-tracing the carvings with a machete).
Petroglyphs in a private garden in Mérida (as well in this sad case, traced copies)
The Unsolved Puzzle of the Oasis
Ultimately, the true identity of the people who inhabited this volcanic paradise during the Spanish conquest remains an unsolved puzzle. In 1586, a visiting priest documented with bewilderment that the islanders spoke a unique, isolated language completely unrelated to any known dialect on the Nicaraguan mainland. Ometepe keeps its secrets guarded tightly within its soil. There are infinitely more open questions than answers, leaving us to wonder about the hands that held the chisel, the minds that dreamed up the spirals, and the forgotten world that once flourished beneath the twin volcanoes.
Ultimately, the true identity of the people who inhabited this volcanic paradise during the Spanish conquest remains an unsolved puzzle. In 1586, a visiting priest documented with bewilderment that the islanders spoke a unique, isolated language completely unrelated to any known dialect on the Nicaraguan mainland. Ometepe keeps its secrets guarded tightly within its soil. There are infinitely more open questions than answers, leaving us to wonder about the hands that held the chisel, the minds that dreamed up the spirals, and the forgotten world that once flourished beneath the twin volcanoes.
Waterfall of San Ramón (2022)
The Reclaimed Waterfall of Maderas
While the ancient indigenous tribes once called this dormant volcano Coatlan (meaning "Land of the Sun"), it is known today as Maderas—a wild, rugged side of the island that wasn't even formally explored by the non-indigenous population until 1930. Hidden deep within the western slopes of its volcanic cone lies a small, enchanting waterfall. The lush jungle trail leading up to it begins in the quiet village of San Ramón. When we first made the grueling trek back in 2002, it was the tail end of the grueling dry season; the waterfall had been reduced to a mere, fragile trickle, barely whispering against the rocks. But returning in November 2022 was a completely different story. This time, squeezed together with three of us balancing on a single rented scooter—joined by a friend who had traveled all the way down from Matagalpa—we witnessed the jungle in its full glory. The heavy winter rains had transformed the canyon, and the waterfall thundered down the cliffside in a spectacular, roaring cascade, showing us the raw, unbridled power of Maderas in the wet season.
The Reclaimed Waterfall of Maderas
While the ancient indigenous tribes once called this dormant volcano Coatlan (meaning "Land of the Sun"), it is known today as Maderas—a wild, rugged side of the island that wasn't even formally explored by the non-indigenous population until 1930. Hidden deep within the western slopes of its volcanic cone lies a small, enchanting waterfall. The lush jungle trail leading up to it begins in the quiet village of San Ramón. When we first made the grueling trek back in 2002, it was the tail end of the grueling dry season; the waterfall had been reduced to a mere, fragile trickle, barely whispering against the rocks. But returning in November 2022 was a completely different story. This time, squeezed together with three of us balancing on a single rented scooter—joined by a friend who had traveled all the way down from Matagalpa—we witnessed the jungle in its full glory. The heavy winter rains had transformed the canyon, and the waterfall thundered down the cliffside in a spectacular, roaring cascade, showing us the raw, unbridled power of Maderas in the wet season.
The Armor of the Waterfall
While cooling off in the refreshing spray of the cascade, the jungle had one more surprise waiting for us right in the rocky stream. Tucked away under a wet ledge, we spotted a massive, prehistoric-looking freshwater land crab (Potamon potamios). Its thick, glossy brown armor and powerfully ridged claws looked incredibly fierce as we carefully lifted it up for a quick look. Finding such a large, resilient creature thriving right in the roaring currents felt like the perfect symbol for the untamed, ancient spirit of Maderas that we had set out to find.
While cooling off in the refreshing spray of the cascade, the jungle had one more surprise waiting for us right in the rocky stream. Tucked away under a wet ledge, we spotted a massive, prehistoric-looking freshwater land crab (Potamon potamios). Its thick, glossy brown armor and powerfully ridged claws looked incredibly fierce as we carefully lifted it up for a quick look. Finding such a large, resilient creature thriving right in the roaring currents felt like the perfect symbol for the untamed, ancient spirit of Maderas that we had set out to find.
San Ramón Petroglyphs (2022)
Machetes (That We Didn't Have, But Useful It Would Have Been) and Mystery
Our expedition through the ancient heart of the island naturally led us back to the archaeological grounds of San Ramón, driven by the burning desire to find the stone trails I had photographed two decades earlier. However, the path was no longer there. In the 20 years that had slipped by, the aggressive tropical jungle had completely reclaimed the territory, swallowing the historic landmarks in a chaotic sea of dense brush and wild weeds. Armed with nothing but sheer determination—and deeply regretting that we hadn't brought any machetes, which would have been incredibly useful—we had to physically fight our way through the punishing thickets, pushing branches aside and searching the forest floor like true modern-day explorers just to catch a glimpse of the hidden basalt monuments.
Machetes (That We Didn't Have, But Useful It Would Have Been) and Mystery
Our expedition through the ancient heart of the island naturally led us back to the archaeological grounds of San Ramón, driven by the burning desire to find the stone trails I had photographed two decades earlier. However, the path was no longer there. In the 20 years that had slipped by, the aggressive tropical jungle had completely reclaimed the territory, swallowing the historic landmarks in a chaotic sea of dense brush and wild weeds. Armed with nothing but sheer determination—and deeply regretting that we hadn't brought any machetes, which would have been incredibly useful—we had to physically fight our way through the punishing thickets, pushing branches aside and searching the forest floor like true modern-day explorers just to catch a glimpse of the hidden basalt monuments.
The Resilience of the Ancient Stones
Despite the exhausting struggle against the suffocating overgrowth, our persistence paid off. Deep within the green womb of the jungle, we successfully tracked down and uncovered several of the magnificent, forgotten petroglyphs. Clearing away the thick moss and tangled vines with our bare hands, the ancient spirals, abstract circles, and mysterious tribal symbols emerged once more into the daylight. Standing there in the silent forest, tracing the deeply etched patterns with our fingers alongside Iñigo, felt like a triumphant victory over time—a powerful reminder that while human memory and paths fade, these thousand-year-old stones refuse to completely disappear.
Despite the exhausting struggle against the suffocating overgrowth, our persistence paid off. Deep within the green womb of the jungle, we successfully tracked down and uncovered several of the magnificent, forgotten petroglyphs. Clearing away the thick moss and tangled vines with our bare hands, the ancient spirals, abstract circles, and mysterious tribal symbols emerged once more into the daylight. Standing there in the silent forest, tracing the deeply etched patterns with our fingers alongside Iñigo, felt like a triumphant victory over time—a powerful reminder that while human memory and paths fade, these thousand-year-old stones refuse to completely disappear.
Petroglyphs of Corozal
The Untamed Sanctuary of Corozal
Our quest for Ometepe’s ancient history then led us to Corozal, a remote and special corner of the island that, against all odds, has remained entirely untouched by mass tourism and the frenzy of wealthy foreign buyers. It felt like stepping back into the raw, genuine world I first discovered decades ago. However, the ancient heritage here was just as fiercely guarded by nature; the trail that once guided curious travelers to the monuments had completely vanished, swallowed whole by the aggressive tropical jungle. Once again, lacking a machete, we had to rely on pure muscle and stubborn willpower to force our way through the dense, tangled green walls, battling the thick undergrowth as we clawed our way up a steep volcanic ridge.
The Untamed Sanctuary of Corozal
Our quest for Ometepe’s ancient history then led us to Corozal, a remote and special corner of the island that, against all odds, has remained entirely untouched by mass tourism and the frenzy of wealthy foreign buyers. It felt like stepping back into the raw, genuine world I first discovered decades ago. However, the ancient heritage here was just as fiercely guarded by nature; the trail that once guided curious travelers to the monuments had completely vanished, swallowed whole by the aggressive tropical jungle. Once again, lacking a machete, we had to rely on pure muscle and stubborn willpower to force our way through the dense, tangled green walls, battling the thick undergrowth as we clawed our way up a steep volcanic ridge.
A Reward Beyond Time
The grueling trek tested our absolute limits, requiring us to climb all the way over the crest and carefully slide down the treacherous, muddy slopes of the other side. But the rewards that awaited us in that hidden valley made every scratch and drop of sweat worth it. Deep in the wilderness, we were not only blessed to find the ancient petroglyphs beautifully preserved in the shade, but we were also gifted a panoramic view that stopped us dead in our tracks. Looking out over the landscape, there were no luxury villas, no concrete roads, and no fences. It was a flawless, mirror-like vision of the untouched island paradise from 2002—a breathtaking reminder that the true, wild soul of Ometepe still exists if you are willing to fight for it.
The grueling trek tested our absolute limits, requiring us to climb all the way over the crest and carefully slide down the treacherous, muddy slopes of the other side. But the rewards that awaited us in that hidden valley made every scratch and drop of sweat worth it. Deep in the wilderness, we were not only blessed to find the ancient petroglyphs beautifully preserved in the shade, but we were also gifted a panoramic view that stopped us dead in our tracks. Looking out over the landscape, there were no luxury villas, no concrete roads, and no fences. It was a flawless, mirror-like vision of the untouched island paradise from 2002—a breathtaking reminder that the true, wild soul of Ometepe still exists if you are willing to fight for it.
Petroglyphs of El Zopilote
The Preserved Heritage of El Zopilote
Our next stop in 2022 brought us to a place that didn’t even exist during my first journey: El Zopilote, an eco-hostel that has taken a completely different path when it comes to the island's ancient history. Unlike the overgrown, forgotten stones we had to slash through earlier, the owners here have beautifully preserved the local petroglyphs on their land, keeping them safe from the jungle's grasp and making them easily accessible for travelers. After our sweaty, machete-less treks, it was a relief to wander through their grounds, but what we found equally cool was their creative recycling of an old, iconic yellow school bus. Parked under a bamboo roof, the vintage vehicle had been completely gutted and reimagined as a vibrant community library, offering a quiet, nostalgic sanctuary for backpackers to swap stories and books under the gaze of the twin volcanoes.
The Preserved Heritage of El Zopilote
Our next stop in 2022 brought us to a place that didn’t even exist during my first journey: El Zopilote, an eco-hostel that has taken a completely different path when it comes to the island's ancient history. Unlike the overgrown, forgotten stones we had to slash through earlier, the owners here have beautifully preserved the local petroglyphs on their land, keeping them safe from the jungle's grasp and making them easily accessible for travelers. After our sweaty, machete-less treks, it was a relief to wander through their grounds, but what we found equally cool was their creative recycling of an old, iconic yellow school bus. Parked under a bamboo roof, the vintage vehicle had been completely gutted and reimagined as a vibrant community library, offering a quiet, nostalgic sanctuary for backpackers to swap stories and books under the gaze of the twin volcanoes.
Petroglyphs of the "Jungle Lodge" in Mérida
From Playground Football to The Jungle Lodge
My connection to Mérida runs deeper than just the landscape; it lives within the people I’ve known for over twenty years. Back in 2002, Maykel Blandón was just a young local boy kicking a soccer ball around the grounds of Hacienda Mérida—a ball brought over by a Dutch tourist who had discovered the island through the early word-of-mouth promotion we were doing to support the community. Decades later, Maykel has channeled his lifelong love for his home into creating The Jungle, a stunning eco-lodge nestled deep within the wilderness. Much like the owners of El Zopilote, Maykel has taken great care to preserve the ancient pre-Columbian petroglyphs scattered across his property, beautifully integrating them into nature trails to keep this precious heritage fully accessible for his international guests.
My connection to Mérida runs deeper than just the landscape; it lives within the people I’ve known for over twenty years. Back in 2002, Maykel Blandón was just a young local boy kicking a soccer ball around the grounds of Hacienda Mérida—a ball brought over by a Dutch tourist who had discovered the island through the early word-of-mouth promotion we were doing to support the community. Decades later, Maykel has channeled his lifelong love for his home into creating The Jungle, a stunning eco-lodge nestled deep within the wilderness. Much like the owners of El Zopilote, Maykel has taken great care to preserve the ancient pre-Columbian petroglyphs scattered across his property, beautifully integrating them into nature trails to keep this precious heritage fully accessible for his international guests.
The Magic of the One-Night Blossom
Beyond the ancient stones, staying at Maykel's lodge rewarded us with a rare, mystical encounter with a true botanical miracle growing on his grounds. Under the pitch-black jungle sky, I was lucky enough to witness the spectacular blooming of a night-climbing cactus famously known as the Queen of the Night (Selenicereus) in the year 2019. This elusive plant holds a deep secrets: it bursts into its magnificent, fragrant white flower strictly once a year. The glowing blossom commands the darkness for just a few short hours, only to wither away and vanish at the very first sight of the morning dawn—a fleeting, breathtaking moment of pure magic that perfectly encapsulates the untamed spirit of Ometepe.
Beyond the ancient stones, staying at Maykel's lodge rewarded us with a rare, mystical encounter with a true botanical miracle growing on his grounds. Under the pitch-black jungle sky, I was lucky enough to witness the spectacular blooming of a night-climbing cactus famously known as the Queen of the Night (Selenicereus) in the year 2019. This elusive plant holds a deep secrets: it bursts into its magnificent, fragrant white flower strictly once a year. The glowing blossom commands the darkness for just a few short hours, only to wither away and vanish at the very first sight of the morning dawn—a fleeting, breathtaking moment of pure magic that perfectly encapsulates the untamed spirit of Ometepe.
Volcán Concepción (2022)
The Call of the Volcanic Giants
My relationship with Ometepe’s twin peaks took a dramatic, athletic turn in 2019. When I returned to the island after a long nine-year absence to visit my old friends in Mérida, Erik—a dear friend I’ve also known for over two decades—looked at me and declared that it was finally time for us to conquer the volcanoes. We kicked off our high-altitude mission that year by tackling the cloud forest of Maderas. But it wasn’t until 2022 that the island’s ultimate challenge was locked into our sights: the imposing, perfectly conical titan that dominates the horizon—the active Concepción.
The Call of the Volcanic Giants
My relationship with Ometepe’s twin peaks took a dramatic, athletic turn in 2019. When I returned to the island after a long nine-year absence to visit my old friends in Mérida, Erik—a dear friend I’ve also known for over two decades—looked at me and declared that it was finally time for us to conquer the volcanoes. We kicked off our high-altitude mission that year by tackling the cloud forest of Maderas. But it wasn’t until 2022 that the island’s ultimate challenge was locked into our sights: the imposing, perfectly conical titan that dominates the horizon—the active Concepción.
Ascending into the Clouds
For this legendary climb, Erik and I were joined by his two children, his daughter and his older son, making it a proud family expedition. The ascent was a grueling four-hour battle against gravity, marching steadily up the steep, rocky slopes of the volcano. As we climbed higher and higher, the tropical heat completely vanished, swallowed up by a thick, heavy bank of moving clouds. The sudden drop in temperature caught my Nica friends completely off guard; while I was perfectly fine, they began to freeze in the damp alpine air, prompting me to generously lend my sweater to Erik’s shivering daughter to keep her moving.
For this legendary climb, Erik and I were joined by his two children, his daughter and his older son, making it a proud family expedition. The ascent was a grueling four-hour battle against gravity, marching steadily up the steep, rocky slopes of the volcano. As we climbed higher and higher, the tropical heat completely vanished, swallowed up by a thick, heavy bank of moving clouds. The sudden drop in temperature caught my Nica friends completely off guard; while I was perfectly fine, they began to freeze in the damp alpine air, prompting me to generously lend my sweater to Erik’s shivering daughter to keep her moving.
Lost in the Whiteout
Reaching the jagged summit at 1,610 meters felt like stepping into an entirely different dimension—though sadly, not a panoramic one. We were so deeply buried inside the dense volcanic cloud cover that the visibility dropped to less than five meters in any direction. Instead of looking out over the magnificent, sweeping expanse of Lake Nicaragua, we were greeted by a blinding wall of shifting white fog. Standing at the edge of an active crater with the wind howling around us, unable to see the world below, was a surreal and hauntingly beautiful experience in its own right.
Reaching the jagged summit at 1,610 meters felt like stepping into an entirely different dimension—though sadly, not a panoramic one. We were so deeply buried inside the dense volcanic cloud cover that the visibility dropped to less than five meters in any direction. Instead of looking out over the magnificent, sweeping expanse of Lake Nicaragua, we were greeted by a blinding wall of shifting white fog. Standing at the edge of an active crater with the wind howling around us, unable to see the world below, was a surreal and hauntingly beautiful experience in its own right.
Surfing the Lava Dust
While the climb up was a test of pure endurance, the descent turned into an absolute highlight of high-speed fun. Once we fought our way back down through the first third of dense, tangled mountain brush, we hit a wide corridor where ancient lava had once carved a path down the volcano. Today, this section is blanketed in a deep, fine layer of volcanic ash. It was the perfect natural slide! By balancing on your feet and leaning back, you could literally ski down the mountain. Thanks to my winters back home, my skiing instincts kicked in immediately: I found the perfect rhythm and flew past everyone, arriving at the bottom as the undisputed speed champion of the day. We conquered the entire 11-kilometer trek with a lightning-fast two-hour descent.
While the climb up was a test of pure endurance, the descent turned into an absolute highlight of high-speed fun. Once we fought our way back down through the first third of dense, tangled mountain brush, we hit a wide corridor where ancient lava had once carved a path down the volcano. Today, this section is blanketed in a deep, fine layer of volcanic ash. It was the perfect natural slide! By balancing on your feet and leaning back, you could literally ski down the mountain. Thanks to my winters back home, my skiing instincts kicked in immediately: I found the perfect rhythm and flew past everyone, arriving at the bottom as the undisputed speed champion of the day. We conquered the entire 11-kilometer trek with a lightning-fast two-hour descent.
Vulkan Maderas
(2019)
The Jungle Challenge of Maderas
Long before we faced the volcanic ash of Concepción, my long-time friend Erik laid down the gauntlet in 2019, declaring that my island visits would no longer be complete without conquering Ometepe's twin peaks. For our first high-altitude mission up the dormant Maderas volcano, we formed an incredible climbing crew: Erik, his wife Rosa, her close friend Eva, and Erik and Rosa’s youngest son. The best part of our squad? Rosa, Eva, and I were all proud, strong women around 40 years old, ready to prove that age is just a number when it comes to a brutal jungle trek.
(2019)
The Jungle Challenge of Maderas
Long before we faced the volcanic ash of Concepción, my long-time friend Erik laid down the gauntlet in 2019, declaring that my island visits would no longer be complete without conquering Ometepe's twin peaks. For our first high-altitude mission up the dormant Maderas volcano, we formed an incredible climbing crew: Erik, his wife Rosa, her close friend Eva, and Erik and Rosa’s youngest son. The best part of our squad? Rosa, Eva, and I were all proud, strong women around 40 years old, ready to prove that age is just a number when it comes to a brutal jungle trek.
Climbing the Roots and Defying the Climate
Ascending Maderas is an entirely different beast compared to the open, rocky slopes of Concepción. The trail is a dense, wild labyrinth, and the final third of the climb turns into a full-body obstacle course. We found ourselves constantly scrambling up steep mud walls, crawling underneath massive, twisting tropical tree roots, and balancing on wet volcanic stones. Even though I was completely unaccustomed to the stifling tropical humidity and the slippery, unforgiving terrain, my stamina kicked in. Keeping pace right behind Erik, I easily became the fastest woman in our group, navigating the chaotic jungle paths with surprising ease.
Ascending Maderas is an entirely different beast compared to the open, rocky slopes of Concepción. The trail is a dense, wild labyrinth, and the final third of the climb turns into a full-body obstacle course. We found ourselves constantly scrambling up steep mud walls, crawling underneath massive, twisting tropical tree roots, and balancing on wet volcanic stones. Even though I was completely unaccustomed to the stifling tropical humidity and the slippery, unforgiving terrain, my stamina kicked in. Keeping pace right behind Erik, I easily became the fastest woman in our group, navigating the chaotic jungle paths with surprising ease.
Climbing the Roots and Defying the Climate
Ascending Maderas is an entirely different beast compared to the open, rocky slopes of Concepción. The trail is a dense, wild labyrinth, and the final third of the climb turns into a full-body obstacle course. We found ourselves constantly scrambling up steep mud walls, crawling underneath massive, twisting tropical tree roots, and balancing on wet volcanic stones. Even though I was completely unaccustomed to the stifling tropical humidity and the slippery, unforgiving terrain, my stamina kicked in. Keeping pace right behind Erik, I easily became the fastest woman in our group, navigating the chaotic jungle paths with surprising ease.
Ascending Maderas is an entirely different beast compared to the open, rocky slopes of Concepción. The trail is a dense, wild labyrinth, and the final third of the climb turns into a full-body obstacle course. We found ourselves constantly scrambling up steep mud walls, crawling underneath massive, twisting tropical tree roots, and balancing on wet volcanic stones. Even though I was completely unaccustomed to the stifling tropical humidity and the slippery, unforgiving terrain, my stamina kicked in. Keeping pace right behind Erik, I easily became the fastest woman in our group, navigating the chaotic jungle paths with surprising ease.
Volcán Maderas 2022
The Muddy Hell of Maderas
If I thought my 2019 climb was a challenge, 2022 taught me a whole new lesson in endurance when I decided to tackle the dormant giant twice more. The first of these ascents was a journey through absolute hell. A relentless tropical downpour caught us on the slopes, transforming the already difficult trail into a freezing, slippery nightmare. My clothes quickly became completely soaked and incredibly heavy, and the dropping temperatures on the mountain chilled us to the bone. Every single step was a battle against deep, thick volcanic mud that threatened to pull off our boots. It was an exhausting, brutal test of willpower that stretched our trekking time to a grueling ten, almost eleven hours of pure survival.
The Muddy Hell of Maderas
If I thought my 2019 climb was a challenge, 2022 taught me a whole new lesson in endurance when I decided to tackle the dormant giant twice more. The first of these ascents was a journey through absolute hell. A relentless tropical downpour caught us on the slopes, transforming the already difficult trail into a freezing, slippery nightmare. My clothes quickly became completely soaked and incredibly heavy, and the dropping temperatures on the mountain chilled us to the bone. Every single step was a battle against deep, thick volcanic mud that threatened to pull off our boots. It was an exhausting, brutal test of willpower that stretched our trekking time to a grueling ten, almost eleven hours of pure survival.
The Lost Explorers and the Silent Assumption
My second climb of 2022 was an adventure of a completely different, hilarious kind—this time alongside my old partner-in-crime, Iñigo. Confident in our past experiences, we decided to go without a local guide and head up the volcano entirely on our own. Naturally, Ometepe's jungle layout had other plans, and we managed to get completely lost on the way up, forcing us to blindly fight our way through dense wild plantations (and once again, deeply regretting our lack of a machete). After finally scrambling our way back to the summit ridge, we sat down to catch our breath, and the ultimate punchline unfolded: I looked at him and said I thought he had never been up here, and Iñigo turned around and confessed he had thought the exact same thing about me! We burst into hysterical laughter at the top of the volcano, realizing we had risked getting stranded all based on a silent, mutual misunderstanding. Thankfully, our shared instincts kicked in, and we somehow navigated our way safely back down the mountain, adding yet another legendary memory to our 20-year bond.
My second climb of 2022 was an adventure of a completely different, hilarious kind—this time alongside my old partner-in-crime, Iñigo. Confident in our past experiences, we decided to go without a local guide and head up the volcano entirely on our own. Naturally, Ometepe's jungle layout had other plans, and we managed to get completely lost on the way up, forcing us to blindly fight our way through dense wild plantations (and once again, deeply regretting our lack of a machete). After finally scrambling our way back to the summit ridge, we sat down to catch our breath, and the ultimate punchline unfolded: I looked at him and said I thought he had never been up here, and Iñigo turned around and confessed he had thought the exact same thing about me! We burst into hysterical laughter at the top of the volcano, realizing we had risked getting stranded all based on a silent, mutual misunderstanding. Thankfully, our shared instincts kicked in, and we somehow navigated our way safely back down the mountain, adding yet another legendary memory to our 20-year bond.
People on Isla de Ometepe in 2002. In one of the photos, you can also see the remains of the house that was destroyed due to expropriation.
The Legend of ROMEO & OMETEPETL
Many years ago, neither Lake Nicaragua nor the islands existed. Instead, there was a fertile valley featuring fruit-bearing trees, deer roaming its vast expanse, and chirping birds. This was the Valley of the Gods. Tipotani, the supreme god, sent Coapol to Earth to watch over the valley—which is why it is known as the Valley of Coapolca. Yet Coapol did not face his tasks alone; he was supported by the gods Hecaltl, Xochipilli, Oxomogo, and Cachilweneye, who helped him tend the garden. Despite the fertile trees, green fields, and abundant wildlife, there were no water sources or rivers in the entire area; its fertility was created primarily by the gods.
Many years ago, neither Lake Nicaragua nor the islands existed. Instead, there was a fertile valley featuring fruit-bearing trees, deer roaming its vast expanse, and chirping birds. This was the Valley of the Gods. Tipotani, the supreme god, sent Coapol to Earth to watch over the valley—which is why it is known as the Valley of Coapolca. Yet Coapol did not face his tasks alone; he was supported by the gods Hecaltl, Xochipilli, Oxomogo, and Cachilweneye, who helped him tend the garden. Despite the fertile trees, green fields, and abundant wildlife, there were no water sources or rivers in the entire area; its fertility was created primarily by the gods.
Various tribes lived on the edge of the valley, venturing into it to hunt, gather berries, or make love.
One summer afternoon, the beautiful Ometepetl of the Nicaragua tribe met the brave and sensitive warrior Nagrando of the neighboring Chorotega tribe, and it was love at first sight. The god Xochipilli stirred up harmonious breezes, while other gods sent a light rain shower and singing birds. The gods united them in marriage for this life and the life to come.
One summer afternoon, the beautiful Ometepetl of the Nicaragua tribe met the brave and sensitive warrior Nagrando of the neighboring Chorotega tribe, and it was love at first sight. The god Xochipilli stirred up harmonious breezes, while other gods sent a light rain shower and singing birds. The gods united them in marriage for this life and the life to come.
However, Ometepetl and Nagrando had to keep their love a secret, as their tribes were enemies and war could break out at any moment. Long ago, the chieftains had decreed laws forbidding intermarriage with other tribes. One day, while meeting in the valley to be together, they were spotted by soldiers; as a result, Nagrando was sentenced to death for his transgression. Tipotani, the supreme god, warned the pair of the impending danger and led them to a place of safety. Yet, knowing the chieftain’s wrath could not be appeased, they decided they would rather die together than live apart.
After offering one final prayer to the gods, they held hands, shared a deeply passionate kiss, and then slit their wrists. Their blood filled the valley; the sky darkened as heavy clouds gathered, unleashing a torrential downpour upon the earth. Thunder rumbled across the heavens, and the rain was filled with meteorites that streaked through the atmosphere like shooting stars. Nagrando, wracked with agony, fell to the ground, away from Ometepetl. The valley filled with water. The gods looked down upon Nagrando, whose body transformed into the island of Zapatera, while Ometepetl became the island of Ometepe; their breasts rose high, towering above the raging, turbulent waters.
Those responsible for this tragedy drowned in the floodwaters, and the tormented bodies from each tribe formed the archipelagos of Las Isletas and Solentiname.
Those responsible for this tragedy drowned in the floodwaters, and the tormented bodies from each tribe formed the archipelagos of Las Isletas and Solentiname.
CHARCO VERDE
(the Legend of Chico Largo)
Chico Largo has watched over the island—and continues to do so to this day. He guards a coastal cove on Isla de Ometepe. The cove is a mysterious place, measuring 300 by 200 meters, with dark green water. At the bottom of the basin lies a magical city called El Encanto. No one there goes hungry, nor does anyone cook; at mealtime, an abundance of fully prepared food appears on a set table.
Gaining access to the city is simple: one must steal something from Charco Verde. For instance, picking a fruit from a tree or hunting an animal near the water guarantees lifelong membership. The city is ruled by Chico Largo, the spirit of an ancestor of a notorious Nicaraguan chief—specifically, an indigenous shaman who fled to Rivas upon the arrival of the Spanish. Chico Largo was a tall, thin, strong man with black eyes, straight hair, and a palm-leaf hat. According to locals, anyone who has achieved wealth has made a pact with Chico Largo to gain entry to El Encanto. After serving Chico Largo and fulfilling one's obligations, one is transformed into an animal and granted free access to El Encanto.
(the Legend of Chico Largo)
Chico Largo has watched over the island—and continues to do so to this day. He guards a coastal cove on Isla de Ometepe. The cove is a mysterious place, measuring 300 by 200 meters, with dark green water. At the bottom of the basin lies a magical city called El Encanto. No one there goes hungry, nor does anyone cook; at mealtime, an abundance of fully prepared food appears on a set table.
Gaining access to the city is simple: one must steal something from Charco Verde. For instance, picking a fruit from a tree or hunting an animal near the water guarantees lifelong membership. The city is ruled by Chico Largo, the spirit of an ancestor of a notorious Nicaraguan chief—specifically, an indigenous shaman who fled to Rivas upon the arrival of the Spanish. Chico Largo was a tall, thin, strong man with black eyes, straight hair, and a palm-leaf hat. According to locals, anyone who has achieved wealth has made a pact with Chico Largo to gain entry to El Encanto. After serving Chico Largo and fulfilling one's obligations, one is transformed into an animal and granted free access to El Encanto.
The Birth of Playa Volcán: Building a Dream from Scratch in 2003
In January 2003, a wild, ambitious dream was born on the shores of Mérida. Driven by the desire to create a unique haven for adventurous travelers, Carlos Hernandez decided to build Playa Volcán—a rustic eco-project featuring five beds, a cozy beach bar, and home-cooked local dining. The goal was simple: to offer backpackers a gateway to explore the raw beauty of the Maderas volcano, paddle the mystical rivers, and track down ancient petroglyphs.
But there was a catch: financial resources were virtually non-existent.
What followed was a masterclass in traditional craftsmanship, pure muscle power, and incredible community solidarity. For three intense weeks, I embedded myself with the local work crew to document the construction of these ranchos. Without modern machinery or cranes, everything—from scaling 25-meter-tall palm trees to weaving intricate waterproof roofs and engineering a natural biogas system for cooking—was done by hand. The local guys worked entirely for free in their spare time, fueled by laughter, spontaneous coconut breaks, and a shared vision.
Playa Volcán was never a luxury hotel, but it became a monument to the resilient lifestyle of the Ometepinos. This is the story of how we raised structures from the volcanic soil, fought the elements, and built a sanctuary that, even though it didn’t survive the economic tides, paved the way for the eco-tourism spirit that still lives on in Mérida today.
In January 2003, a wild, ambitious dream was born on the shores of Mérida. Driven by the desire to create a unique haven for adventurous travelers, Carlos Hernandez decided to build Playa Volcán—a rustic eco-project featuring five beds, a cozy beach bar, and home-cooked local dining. The goal was simple: to offer backpackers a gateway to explore the raw beauty of the Maderas volcano, paddle the mystical rivers, and track down ancient petroglyphs.
But there was a catch: financial resources were virtually non-existent.
What followed was a masterclass in traditional craftsmanship, pure muscle power, and incredible community solidarity. For three intense weeks, I embedded myself with the local work crew to document the construction of these ranchos. Without modern machinery or cranes, everything—from scaling 25-meter-tall palm trees to weaving intricate waterproof roofs and engineering a natural biogas system for cooking—was done by hand. The local guys worked entirely for free in their spare time, fueled by laughter, spontaneous coconut breaks, and a shared vision.
Playa Volcán was never a luxury hotel, but it became a monument to the resilient lifestyle of the Ometepinos. This is the story of how we raised structures from the volcanic soil, fought the elements, and built a sanctuary that, even though it didn’t survive the economic tides, paved the way for the eco-tourism spirit that still lives on in Mérida today.
Project Ometepe 2020: Painting Las Loanas (And Surviving a Raw Shell)
When a casual promise I made in paradise turned into a wild, unpredictable DIY adventure, I knew I was truly in Nicaragua.
After visiting my friend Erik on Ometepe in 2019 and bringing a custom airbrush car hood, we made a pact for me to return a year later to paint his restaurant, Las Loanas. Returning in 2020 to fulfill this promise, getting materials from Rivas to the island was already an adventure. Upon arrival, I discovered we were tasked with painting a raw, unplastered building shell rather than finished walls, requiring immediate adaptation. Read the full account in the referenced document to see how we transformed this raw concrete canvas into an island dream.
When a casual promise I made in paradise turned into a wild, unpredictable DIY adventure, I knew I was truly in Nicaragua.
After visiting my friend Erik on Ometepe in 2019 and bringing a custom airbrush car hood, we made a pact for me to return a year later to paint his restaurant, Las Loanas. Returning in 2020 to fulfill this promise, getting materials from Rivas to the island was already an adventure. Upon arrival, I discovered we were tasked with painting a raw, unplastered building shell rather than finished walls, requiring immediate adaptation. Read the full account in the referenced document to see how we transformed this raw concrete canvas into an island dream.
Project Jungle Lodge (2019)
The Jungle Lodge and the Lowered Racing Rocket
Back in 2019, long before The Jungle became the thriving eco-lodge it is today, Maykel proudly took me to see his project while it was still a raw construction site. The real adventure, however, began the moment he arrived to pick me up. Instead of a sensible motocross bike or a rugged enduro that could actually handle the island's notorious dirt tracks, Maykel rolled up on a sleek, heavy sports racing machine that defied all local logic. Just parking the bike was a theatrical event; the kickstand was so completely broken that the heavy motorcycle basically leaned halfway flat against the ground, looking like it might crash at any second. And then came the ride. To reach his hidden lodge, we had to conquer an incredibly steep, winding hill. The road didn't have normal pavement; instead, it featured two narrow, elevated concrete tracks designed strictly for car tires. Balancing on the back of that racing rocket, I had to hold on for dear life while Maykel masterfully aimed our front tire to hit those exact, curving concrete ridges without slipping off into the rough dirt. It was terrifying, hilarious, and an absolute masterclass in island improvisation!
The Jungle Lodge and the Lowered Racing Rocket
Back in 2019, long before The Jungle became the thriving eco-lodge it is today, Maykel proudly took me to see his project while it was still a raw construction site. The real adventure, however, began the moment he arrived to pick me up. Instead of a sensible motocross bike or a rugged enduro that could actually handle the island's notorious dirt tracks, Maykel rolled up on a sleek, heavy sports racing machine that defied all local logic. Just parking the bike was a theatrical event; the kickstand was so completely broken that the heavy motorcycle basically leaned halfway flat against the ground, looking like it might crash at any second. And then came the ride. To reach his hidden lodge, we had to conquer an incredibly steep, winding hill. The road didn't have normal pavement; instead, it featured two narrow, elevated concrete tracks designed strictly for car tires. Balancing on the back of that racing rocket, I had to hold on for dear life while Maykel masterfully aimed our front tire to hit those exact, curving concrete ridges without slipping off into the rough dirt. It was terrifying, hilarious, and an absolute masterclass in island improvisation!
Pancho's Hostal Project (2022)
Pancho’s Dream: Fighting the Jungle One More Time
The year 2022 brought my island journey full circle with one final, sweat-inducing construction project. Rosa’s brother, Pancho, who currently lives in Switzerland, owns a beautiful plot of land in Mérida with the dream of building his own hostel or jungle lodge. Before any foundation could be poured, the wild, overgrown land needed to be tamed. So, Erik, Rosa, and I teamed up once again to tackle the dense wall of tropical vegetation. In what had officially become a running theme for my adventures on Ometepe, we arrived at the site with absolutely no heavy machinery and only the barest, most primitive tools. Fighting through the thick brush, hacking away at stubborn vines, and clearing the future paradise section by section with our bare hands was grueling work, but doing it alongside the friends who had become my island family made every drop of sweat worth it.
Pancho’s Dream: Fighting the Jungle One More Time
The year 2022 brought my island journey full circle with one final, sweat-inducing construction project. Rosa’s brother, Pancho, who currently lives in Switzerland, owns a beautiful plot of land in Mérida with the dream of building his own hostel or jungle lodge. Before any foundation could be poured, the wild, overgrown land needed to be tamed. So, Erik, Rosa, and I teamed up once again to tackle the dense wall of tropical vegetation. In what had officially become a running theme for my adventures on Ometepe, we arrived at the site with absolutely no heavy machinery and only the barest, most primitive tools. Fighting through the thick brush, hacking away at stubborn vines, and clearing the future paradise section by section with our bare hands was grueling work, but doing it alongside the friends who had become my island family made every drop of sweat worth it.
