Guidebooks and Taxis

I went hiking today! Sort of. Here is my day, delivered in numerical order.

I shall begin with a quote from Lonely Planet, a so called "credible" guide book.

"Today protected as part of Reserva Natural Tepesomoto-Pataste, the gorge is phenomenal, with steely gray cliffs and graded peaks carved from the dry forest and pockmarked with caves. It's a 3km hike into the canyon from a trailhead that leaves from a well-signed exit 15km north of Somoto. A taxi can take you there for US $4."

Hah!

1. Arose at 5:30 AM in Esteli, Nicaragua
2. 6:45 AM: begin 3 hour bus ride to the town Somoto begins
3. 9:50 AM: Find a taxi fairly quickly. By taxi, this actually means a random guy, his taxi ID and decals in absentia. However, I bargained him down from $6to $3 for a ride to the Natural Reserve. Indeed, he agreed far too quickly on the cheaper price. Relying on my intrepid instincts at this point, I get in.
4. Rode with sketchy "taxi" man for four blocks, where he stopped to ask two girls where the Reserva is. Upon discovering that he was not ripping me off, and actually had to go somewhere substantial, he told me he was not going to take me to said Reserve.
5. 9:55 AM: I exit. "Forget" to pay.
6. 9:56 AM: Begin a quick exchange of information with the women. They tell me I need to take a bus to Samoa to find the Reserve. I do not trust their advice. After all, no bus is mentioned in Lonely Planet. It clearly says taxi.
7. I wonder around Somoto, looking for someone to give me advice.
8. 10:05 AM: A man in a furniture store turns out to be the executive director of an ecologically minded radio station that does some seat-of-the-pants eco-tourism. He tells me to take a taxi to Uniles, where Santiago Rivera would take me up the mountain. As the word in Spanish for canyon has escaped me, I am unable to verify that is where I'm going. Yet, he does own a radio station. And knows a man named Santiago.
9. 10:35 AM: Find a taxi at the market place. It is not quite the price radio man told me, but I am indeed in a taxi.
10. 10:45 AM: Arrive at a pulperia. Taxi man leaves. Two girls approach me and ask if I am going to the mountain. Impressed by the ease of transfer, I begin walking with them.
11. 11:00 AM: Find Santiago. Establish that the spanish word for canyon is...canyon. Also establish that if I want to visit the canyon, I need to take a bus. Which leaves at 11:00.
12. 11:01 AM: Begin hike with Santiago up the mountain behind his house. This gentleman looks to be about 70, with the classical wrinkly face you see in small Spanish villages. He also carries a machete, which he uses more as a walking stick than to chop things. I did see him chop some grass at one point.
13. 11:34 AM: Santiago points out the canyon to me. I have to take his word for it, as I could not see it, the canyon resting roughly 30km away.
14. Hike continues, taking us through coffee fields, over a small creek, up rather muddy narrow pathways, and past some very pretty flowers. We would have gone to the very top of the mountain, but it was too cloudy to see what we could see, as it were. So we decided it was best to return. I also find out Santiago is in a fairly successful fair trade cooperative, and has even been to the US several times to promote mercado justo. He even has a medal.
15. 1:17 PM: Return to Santiago's house. He shows me his medal: a small gold medallion somehow laminated into a dusty picture frame. I drink half a cup of coffee, the standard brown colored sugar water, and take a picture of one of his grandkids shelling beans. Now I have documentation of where their beans come from.
16. 1:24 PM: A taxi-van arrives, part of it's daily route. I bid farewell to Santiago and his family, and ride back to the bus station.
17. 2:00PM: Express bus leaves for Esteli.
18. 3:14PM: I celebrate my day over fresh wheat bread, hummous, cucumbers, and tomatoes at La Casita. This is a cafè outside of town, with a cactus garden and very rambunctious adolescents who take gelled hair seriously.

It's the quintessential mix of what I've experienced in Nicaragua. Adjusted expectations, generally helpful and friendly people, even the cognates. And never trust Lonely Planet.