As the sun beat down on us the boat finally lurched forward, the weight obviously leaning to the left. No worries, this is how everything runs in Central America. Why would Ometepe be any different? The wind came rushing through our hair, sending cool licks onto our sweat trickled skin. Small puffs of exhaust came out in little “toots” from the boat.
Everything about this island is an experience. Every breeze, every warm ray of sunshine, everything is visceral.
We spent our time laying lazily in the hammock watching the storms come across the lake, overtaking the massive volcanoes- the heart and soul of what we were standing on.
On a clear moment we took our opportunity. Our hair blew back as the sun feverishly pecked at our skin during our dirt bike expedition across the island. A maddening maze of pot holes and cows kept silly smiles on our faces.
It was a taste of freedom, of loving the moment.
Our sunburned legs dipped carefully into the springs of Ojo de Agua, a refreshingly cold mineral bath that rejuvenated our parched bodies. We washed it down with a cold Tona cerveza, perfectly hitting the spot. The trees sang to us in the breeze. For a moment, nothing else mattered.