End of the Road

San Carlos loomed out of the early dawn mist like a scene from a Graham Greene novel; the last, ramshackle outpost of civilization on the verge of a vast, trackless jungle. We were arriving after sixteen hours aboard a ferry from Granada, having traveled the length of Lake Nicaragua to its southern tip. Backpacking tourists and locals returning home packed the ship. On deck, hammocks strung from every available attachment point held the regulars sleeping there way through the journey. Inside the cabin were rows of thinly padded benches, although most chose to sleep on the floor. Mexican mariachi music videos played on a large television screen throughout the night.

My motorcycle had been left behind on the island of Ometepe, in lockup at the little port there where the ship had briefly docked around midnight. There was no point in taking it on, since there are no roads beyond San Carlos. The only means of travel out to the nearby islands or down the Rio San Juan to the Costa Rican border is by panga, the type of long open boat used for fishing, cargo and everything else in this part of the world. The plan was to return on the ferry in a few days as far as Ometepe, pick up the bike and ride it back to San Juan del Sur.

The town of San Carlos has little to offer and exists mainly to service the outlying ranches and banana plantations that have been hacked out of the dense bush. With the first available boat, we were on our way out to Solentiname, the archipelago of small islands that are home to a remarkable artists' colony. Some fifty years ago an idealistic young priest named Ernesto Cardenal arrived here to find the people of the islands desperately poor, but with an artistic culture in which virtually everyone is a painter, sculpture or wood carver. Cardenal brought their art to the outside world, built a church and preached revolution theology that made the area a hotbed of resistance against the Samoza government.

The exposure of their creations brought the islanders a new source of income and today many of the inhabitants make their living as professional artists. However, Cardenal was excommunicated by the Catholic church for his incendiary teachings and in 1977 Samosa's national guard ravaged Solentiname, burning every structure and massacring most of the population. The few who escaped fled to Costa Rica, slowly filtering back after the success of the revolution two years later.

During his tenure in the islands, Cardenal became an accomplished artist himself and still works today. While in Managua, I happened to come upon one of his sculptures in a gallery, selling for several thousand dollars. He also served as the country's Minister of Culture in the first post-revolution Sandanista government, but has lately become a vocal critic of Daniel Ortega's autocratic style. Today, at the age of eighty, he remains a force in politics and the arts, returning to Solentiname occasionally to write in the peace and quiet of the islands.

We found Sloentiname an incredibly beautiful and peaceful place full of very warm and welcoming people. Our cabin looked out onto the lake through lush greenery shaded by enormous trees hung with vines. Dozens of hummingbirds flitted between the huge blossoms that grew everywhere. As we finished breakfast our first morning a giant Macaw landed in the tree beside our table, its brilliant red, blue and yellow plumage dazzling against the green backdrop. Later, wading into the lake for a swim, I saw a large fish in the shallows. It did not bolt as I approached and, amazingly, allowed me to reach down into the water and stroke its belly.

Walking along the shore, at each house I saw people busily at work carving or painting balsa wood sculptures. We found a small gallery featuring the works of the islands' best painters. Their canvases may appears surrealist at first glance, but once you have seen the place, it is obvious that they are faithfully representing the astonishing flora and fauna of these islands.