Peñas Blancas

A few weeks ago, I finally saw the place that Frederic has spent/will be spending a lot of his time. Two buses, half a day, and some terrible roads brings you there, in the Northern highlands of Nicaragua, coffee growing country. Its the sort of place where you don't mind things like ice cold water for the shower, bigger-than-acceptable bugs in the bedroom at night, HEAVY food (like rice and cheese 3 times a day), and sporadic electricity cuts, because this is what you see from the doorway of your cabin:

It's also a special place when at dusk a gang of toucans arrive and you can wander from tree to tree following them in their evening routine and listening to their strange, toad-like sounds. No decent photos of the toucans but this is the species, photo taken from the internet, a keel-billed toucan  

The sunset, as seen from a spot five minutes walk up the hill, each range of hills a different shade of pinky grey and changing faster than I could take pictures as the sun disappeared

One of the ladies who lives on the farm cooking our tea over a wood fire. Cheese is freshly made each morning, coffee beans from the farm are ground in the kitchen and Don Chico occasionally gets out his battered mandolin and plays old Nicaraguan songs with a grin on his face. At the same time the younger men compare their motorbikes and everyone knows the best spot to leave your mobile phone to have a chance of receiving some signal, its always a blend of old and new 

Fried plantain banana, rice, beans, freshly made cheese and tortillas

Playing cards after lunch 

Some residents of the farm. The calf was three days old and probably still hasn't grown into her ears now

The Macizo de Peñas Blancas

The area is named after the white rock formation which dominates the community living below it. I felt like it was watching us, most of the time in a friendly way. 

The macizo de Peñas Blancas

The first morning there we had a big breakfast that I later regretted slightly as we dragged ourselves up the mountain (well, I dragged, Frederic clambered, and Arturo, the farmer acting as our guide, skipped up without breaking a sweat. I pointed out my shorter legs while they waited for me, then sheepishly realised that Arturo is the same height, if not shorter than me). 

We went up towards the right of the picture, almost vertically,hoping not to grab on to a spiky tree trunk for support as we slipped, and trusting the 3 or 4 wooden ladders not to lose their grip on the rock and send us toppling back down the mountain.

All of a sudden we hit the ledge, and found ourselves on the almost-flat plateau where there is a icy cold stream running into an incredibly inviting pool and then a waterfall .. swimming will be for next time though because Arturo seemed keen to get back to the farm. Although he didn't actually say this, being the strong (well, small) and silent type. We didn't see much wildlife at the top, a couple of times a hummingbird flashed in front of me, an iridescent blur, and every now and again we would hear the song of the oropéndola, which sounds to me a bit like a xylophone being played. When we go back we might spend the night at the top sleeping in hammocks, and could see much more wildlife, though that probably includes much more mosquitoes too. 

Then we crossed the plateau from the right to the left, and stumbled down at only a slightly lower gradient than the way up.

It was all worth it for these views.

Frederic on red alert for interesting birds, while Arturo leads on through one of his coffee fields. The plants here are around one year old I think, and need 2 more before they're ready to bear fruit 

So, Frederic will be back soon to start interviewing the farmers in the area and I'll be back to visit one day. The 5 hours of bus journeys to get there only builds the anticipation