León – El Recreo – Managua – Lago Massaya – Granada – San Jorge – Isla Ometepe
11 days | 6 etappes | 261 kilometers | 1700 meters elevation gain
We wake up in the municipal building in a park just outside of the town of Malpaisillo in the west of Nicaragua. Yesterday we took a big bite out of our route to León, which means that today we only have a mere 40 kilometers left. So we take it easy this morning. Also we would still like to find somebody to host us in León so we can have a rest day and recharge the batteries. We send out a bunch of messages via Couchsurfing, Warmshowers and try our contacts. But no matter what we try, nobody is willing to have us over. So we go for plan B. In the Cicloviajeros Centro America WhatsApp group I’ve been send the telephone number of somebody that works at the Red Cross in León. I texted her and we’re welcome.
Only after a very slow breakfast and hanging about in the park in the sun we find a little bit of energy that’s left to pack up and start riding towards León. When we arrive we are treated to a spectacular sunset and the pink, yellow and red sunbeams are turning the old city into a beautiful painting.
When we arrive at the Red Cross we find our contact person, she is nice but it doesn’t seem like everybody is super happy to have us here. The boss wants to make a picture of our passports, which in my honest opinion is not a sign of very good fate. Whatever. I’m glad we found a shelter in the city for tonight. We take a shower, put up the tent and make our way into the city for a late night stroll.
I visited Nicaragua and other Central American countries when I was here 6 years ago and it’s fun to realize that I still clearly remember some places. When we walk home we accidentally walk in the wrong direction, but I’m glad we do because we get to experience some serious León lifestyle in the suburbs. I love it. Because it’s still hot and the people don’t have A/C here everybody is hanging outside. Kids play in the streets playing football with improvised goals. The older people have put their rocking chairs outside and have a chat and we even see people that have put the television outside. The streets feel like one big living room. One where the whole city is welcome.







Having a safe place to sleep in a city is super nice, but these places like the Red Cross (or the fire brigade) are not made to rest very well. And I get it, people need to work here. It’s only too bad that they start so early. We are woken up around 5AM by music blasting through speakers put on by the cleaning ladies sweeping around our tent. I guess it’s time to pack up then. We were also told that we have to leave by 8AM because then the building will open to the public. We ride into town and have breakfast in the central park, chill for a bit and discuss what to do. We wanted to recharge the batteries here, but as far as charging goes our stay at the Red Cross has only drained our batteries. We decide to pay a visit to the municipality of León to see if they can help us just as good as the municipality of Malpaisillo the day before. We ask for a place to spend the night, maybe a municipal building, maybe a sports building, we suggest even just in the hallway of the municipality itself. We are being sent back and forth, from one office to the other, from one person to the next. People are calling, giving us names of persons that might be able to help us, telling us to wait or come back in an hour, we are running around, being sent back and forth a couple more times.
After four hours we finally get our answer: sorry it’s not possible to help you. I have the feeling that nobody wants to reject us in our faces and thus people are just sending us to other persons in the hope that that person has the guts to reject us. All in all, we spend a full day running around the municipality instead of enjoying the beautiful old city of León.
By now it’s 5PM and León has dropped hard on our list of cities that we like. We are a bit desperate by now. We visit a hostel to ask if we can sleep in the hammocks, but no again. Paying for a hotel, for now, is no option yet. Simply because it would drain Fernanda’s bank account. So we decide to cycle into a neighborhood and plainly start asking around. We get directions to a comedor (an eatery) and when we show up and ask for a place they tell us we can pitch our tent behind the kitchen and they will keep an eye out for our stuff, because we’re still in the middle of a big city. In return we have dinner at the comedor, because I think it’s only right to return the favor like this. Afterwards we cycle into town to have a beer and blow off some steam.
Recharging our batteries in León failed and we didn’t see a whole lot of the city. Tomorrow we go onwards.





We pack up camp and thank our guardian angels at the comedor. We choose a gravel road over the highway and are treated with a lot of dust. The heat, the sweat, the dust and the headwind makes for a good messy paste on our faces and bodies. A facial crème that you would not be offered at your local spa retreat.
We arrive in the midst of the golden hour at Lago Xolotlan. We find ourselves a beautiful campsite with vistas over the lake and the big symmetrical volcano at the other side of it. The only minus is once again the garbage that is left at the shore by the locals. Luckily the beautiful starry night makes up for it.
We come to the conclusion that we’re better off finding stealth camp spots than finding shelter in the cities.
Fun facts:
- Nine out of ten flat tires are due to staples.
It’s almost never glass nor nails, no it’s the little staples that are a nightmare for my tires. - I still get lactic acid in my legs sometimes.
After almost 11 months of cycling, when I push myself yet to another limit or when pushing hard for a couple of days my legs still fill up with lactic acid. - I still didn’t crash.
This one will surprise a lot of people. Some people even only know me by the nickname “The Wreckingball from Rooi“. I am an adrenaline junk, I like to risk it, I like to go fast. Back home I crash regularly on my road or mountain bike. Or without bike. Yet, I still didn’t suffer a big crash in the last 10 months. Yes, I was close at times. And yes, I have fallen. But it was never really hard, never at full speed. Fingers crossed for the next 10 months!




We pack up camp, prepare breakfast Fernanda style (see other column). On our way to the capital Managua we see guys holding up big iguanas (like huge salamanders) at the side of the road to sell. People eat them here. We arrive in the capital of Nicaragua, a city we did not hear the most thrilling stories about. It’s supposed to be a dangerous and ugly city, but it’s hard to avoid this massive urban jungle on our way south. Once again we’ve send out many requests for a place to sleep and when we arrive and check our phones we just hope for that one message saying that we can come over. But once again we’re disappointed. Are we too spoiled by the goodness of people that we’ve received in the past? Is it the political situation or the distrust after COVID that is holding people back to invite strangers over? We will never know. But at the end of the day, once again we find ourselves in the midst of a big (and this time supposedly dangerous as well) city and have no place to stay.
We decide for guerilla tactics, we pick a big supermarket and go post next to the entrance. Everybody that’s walking in or out with a friendly appearance I approach. I tell our story and ask if they might have a garden or a porch that we can pitch our tent on. I feel like a hobo asking for money. People are avoiding eye-contact with me, they feel that it is something that I want from them and they simply are not having the time nor interest in it. The ones that stop and are hearing me out come up with a no sorry, I cannot help you. We leave the supermarket and try our shot in a neighborhood. For half an hour we think we are being helped by a family that’s walking by. They hear my story and tell us to follow them to a friend’s place. Half an hour later it’s dark, we’re told that we cannot stay at the friend’s place and we’re empty handed once again. We are frustrated by now.
I know it’s hard to explain, but a hotel is just no option for us. Of course I have money in my bank account but not enough to spend on hotels every night for 20 months in a row.
Moreover it’s the game, the game of finding a place to sleep without paying for it. A game that’s challenging and fun but just like any other game: sometimes you win and sometimes you loose. The past week we’ve been on a loosing streak.
We see a park full of kids that are running around and parents that are waiting until it’s time to take the kids home again. We make some dinner in the park and discuss our options. We ask the supervisor of the park if we can sleep in the park after opening hours. Finally we found somebody that is willing to think along with us. He tells us that the park will close at 9PM and that he is willing to lock us up in the park. He will be here for surveillance during the night as well. Although we’re in a rough neighborhood we decide this is our best option. We put our bicycles out of sight and put up our tent in a blind corner. We don’t want our tent nor our bikes to be spotted by somebody with wrong intentions. At 9PM the gates of the park close and we are willingly being locked up until tomorrow morning 8AM.
Breakfast Fernanda-style:
Easy, cheap and fast.
Ingredients:
- 2 or 3 ripe bananas
- Oatmeal flocks
- A few raisins
- A few nuts
- Jam or marmelade
Preparation:
- Mash the bananas into a good paste in your breakfast bowl
- Sprinkle the oatmeal flocks on top of it and mix it good with the banana-paste. The ripeness of the bananas will make the oatmeal moisty.
- Add your raisins, nuts and jam or marmelade to top it off.
- Enjoy.
- (If you have more time: get out your camping stove, scope some water from the river or just from you water bottle and make coffee.)

Although circumstances were not ideal I did sleep well. We pack up and make our way into the city for a touristic round. We visit some shops as well, because I want to buy a gas cannister for my stove, but my type of connection doesn’t seem to exist here. Luckily Fernanda still has some alcohol left for her alcohol stove. We make our way to the craterlake of Massaya where we find another perfect campsite. The black, volcanic rocks make it hard for the pegs of the tent to penetrate into the ground. We swim, explore the surroundings and enjoy the serenity. In the night we make a fire and cook our dinner on it. It saves the little gas and alcohol we still have, but mainly it’s just fun to make a fire.
We have the perfect morning where we are slowly woken up by singing birds. We go for a morning swim. First we make a fire and then boil water on it for coffee.
Once we’re packed up it’s only a short ride into the next city that’s on the map: Granada. Another beautiful city. And this time we’ve found a place to stay. Via via we got the contact information of La Casa de la Botellas, a school for comedy and mime. We’re welcome to spend the night. We pitch the tent on the middle of a stage with a big yurt-like roof and go check out town.



In the morning we prepare breakfast and whilst eating it are treated to a personal circus-act. The guys that volunteer here are practicing their juggling and diabolo skills and it’s pretty amazing what they show.
Today we decided to book a hostel. We throw the towel into the ring. We haven’t slept in a bed for more than two weeks, we haven’t had a proper shower for more than two weeks, the batteries of all our electronic devices are empty and our clothes desperately need a wash.
We find a hostel for a reasonable price in the city centre of Granada. Suddenly everything feels so luxurious!
I mean.. a bed and a shower clearly are a luxury for us. But also think about a fully-equiped kitchen with coffeemakers, blenders, big pots and pans, an oven and a fridge. But also tables and chairs, hammocks, WiFi and a room where our bags can explode.
We decide to stay two days simply because we need it. We cook a lot during these days and fully take advantage of the kitchen at our disposal. We wash our clothes by hand, wash our bikes, oil our chains, fix holes in our clothes and sleeping pads and charge all our devices. And of course we check out the city in between of our chores.







Completely recharged and smelling like roses we mount our bikes this morning. You can really feel the difference in your legs after two days of rest, because not only your chain starts to squeak after two weeks of constant pedaling: also your legs start to give out.
We have a long day ahead of us, because we found a contact to spend the night in San Jorge, right where the boat will bring us to Ometepe the next morning. We’ve been enduring headwind for the last weeks now and today is no different. We cycle along the loud Pan-American highway with a small shoulder. Big trucks pass us a few meters away. It drains our energy. But the surroundings are beautiful, everything is green and the big palm and banana tree leaves great us on the side of the road. When we take a left in Rivas we smell the chicken on the grill in the various stalls along the road.
It’s packed with customers. Our mouths water.
Ronnie has send us the coordinates to his house in San Jorge and when we arrive he is there to great us into his house. It’s the first smooth and painless stay with somebody in Nicaragua and we have the feeling that the tables have turned into our favor when it comes to the hospitality in Nicaragua. Ronnie is amazing. He is only 22 years old but already lives on his own in the big house of his parents. He works at a company but music is his passion. He brings out a guitar and a ukulele and I finally get to make music again after 10 months of not playing. We jam together for a bit and I promise myself to try to start playing the ukulele more often because it fills me with joy whenever I do (even though I suck). We put up the tent in Ronnie’s living room because the house is full of holes and gaps and thus filled with mosquitos.





In the morning I wake up when I hear Ronnie sing in the shower at the top of his voice. I laugh, I think it’s a hilarious and funny way to wake up. We make eggs on Ronnie’s stove while he shoots into his clothes to go to work. Shortly after we cycle a few kilometers to where the ferry to Ometepe island goes. When the tetris game to get all the trucks and cars onto the ferry has finished successfully the boat horn blows and we set off to the volcanic island of Ometepe. We soon see the two characteristic volcanoes looming in the distance. Once we set foot onto the island it feels like we just entered a different country. The island vibes are strong here and they rub off on us. We take it easy and start cycling around the island. We stop for a beer, to have lunch and a swim in the lake. We see horses, cows and pigs swing by to drink the sweet water directly from the lake.
In the past weeks we’ve had contact with Nube, who is laying in front of our journey by one or two weeks. He also has spend time on Ometepe whilst staying in a supposedly very sweet and cozy tiny house. The tiny house belongs to a guy from Guatemala, but whenever he is not around himself he is willing to let bike tourists make use of his house for free. We are supposed to get the keys from his neighbors.
When we get back on the bike we notice that time has flown by and now suddenly it’s late. We rush towards the village where we’re supposed to get the keys to the tiny house because we’re afraid that the dark will toughen our quest for the keys since we don’t know exactly where we have to be. In the meantime we do have to stop one more time because suddenly we hear howler monkeys making a lot of noise in the trees left of us. The first monkeys I see this trip and I’m thrilled. In the dark we arrive to the path leading up a mountain. Somewhere on this path should be our tiny house. And then suddenly we see it. We fall in love instantly. It’s perfect. It’s in the midst of the jungle, all around it trees and sounds of animals. It has a porch and a hammock and peaking through the window we see a shower and small kitchen as well. The door is locked but soon the neighbors have noticed us and swing by to give us the keys and have a small chat. The neighbors are old mountain people with skin like leather, but a smile from ear to ear. When entering the tiny house we immediately spot three spiders big as a fist, luckily by now we are used to creepy crawling animals after spending so much time in nature. We decide to leave them in the house and keep them as pets.
















We would like to spend some more time on the island but unfortunately Fernanda’s visa is expiring on the 5th of march and I have to get to Costa Rica as well since my parents will be arriving the 7th. We decide to stay two full days on the island, then on the 5th we will depart early and from the island will make it to Costa Rica in one go.
The days in the tiny house on Ometepe fill themselves easily. Every morning howler monkeys are swinging by, making their typical howler sounds. The old neighbor men swing by frequently as well. I think they’re super curious to learn about these two youngsters traveling the world on a bike. For them this probably sounds like an alien movie, they probably have never left the island. But they are super friendly, bring us bananas and let us cook plantains, rice and coffee on the wood fired grill in their house. This gives us the opportunity to have a sneak peak into their lives and household. Chickens and pigs are running around the house. We make a few bike rides on the island or leave the bikes and just walk to the nearest village for a delicious and ice-cold popsicle-from-a-bag.
It’s funny to see the weird mixture of people on the island, with on the one hand the tourists that look spot-on for their next Instagram picture and on the other hand the filthy locals chasing the cows back into the meadow. We watch the sunset over the lake and the volcano whilst sipping a beer.
We prepare our bikes on the porch. Our last ride towards the tiny house apparently both gave us punctures in our tires. But I cannot imagine a better place to patch them up then here on the porch of this amazing house in the jungle.
Then, on the fifth of March, the day that Fernanda’s visa will expire we wake up early. We have a quick breakfast and set off towards the other end of the island to catch the Ferry. Goodbye perfect little hut. I can hear the howler monkeys waking up too in the distance but this time I don’t see them. It’s amazing to cycle on this island, life moves slow here. It’s not hot yet but it is super humid, I can almost feel the water drops hanging in the air. The little climbs make us sweat like never before. We catch our boat, have lunch on the main land and make our way towards the border with Costa Rica.







Next up: the beautiful rainforests of Costa Rica and a big reunion with my parents.
Weer genoten van je verhaal met deze keer meer downs als ups
En nu heel benieuwd naar je volgende verhaal
😉
Super verhaal weer Marijn. Weer met heel veel plezier gelezen. Wij hadden ons pas nog afgevraagd of jij je ukelele ook mee had genomen. Nee dus.