Beyond the Styx:
   The Rio San Juan

        Article submitted by Bob deRosset, who has changed the names to protect the innocent and edited by lvl for brevity’s sake.

        The Rio San Juan runs from the southeastern corner of Lake Nicaragua into the Caribbean Sea. It is Lake Nicaragua’s only outlet to the sea, and for much of its course defines the border between Costa Rica and Nicaragua. The Rio San Juan is one of the more remote places in Nicaragua. When Harvey, my wife Leslie’s father, came for a visit, we took advantage of his adventurous nature to see the area around the town of El Castillo and the Bartolla Preserve.

        On the Bus

        Our journey to El Castillo began in Managua, where we caught the 6 AM bus to San Carlos, which is where the water spills from Lake Nicaragua and begins its journey to the sea as the Rio San Juan. Our bus was not an express bus and we slowly made our way south, parallel to the eastern shore of Nicaragua.
        Highlights of the bus ride included fried chicken in a bag for about 40 cents, high crime in Juigalpa where a local vendor was accused of stealing money from one of the bus passengers, bridges that consisted of a couple of I beams with wooden planks over them, and herds of cattle covering the road, reducing traffic to a slow crawl.
        Around 1:40, we pulled into San Carlos, looking for the last boat to El Castillo, leaving at 2 PM. The river boat looked like a giant fiberglass canoe, long and narrow, with a wheelhouse on the front and plastic sheeting over seating which was plastic chairs, two across, bolted into the hull. A big Volvo diesel sat uncovered toward the back. At 2 PM sharp, it thrummed to life and we pulled away

        On the River Boat

        We passed many small towns, and the boat stopped, just like the bus. At three of the four stops, there were no piers and the boat ran its bow up on the shore to let people jump out. Vendors can’t just jump on and off, like they could on the bus, so they came along side in dugouts and grabbed ahold to sell their wares.
        At 5 PM, we pulled into El Castillo, a small town built on a bend in the San Juan at a set of rapids in the river. It is the site of a Spanish fort dating to the 1600s that has been restored as a museum. 

        In El Castillo

        El Castillo, like other river towns, is accessible only by boat, which means no cars, and therefore no need for streets wide enough for cars.  We got off at the town dock which doubles for a basketball court and wandered up the hill to the nice hotel which was, unfortunately, full for the night. After looking at concrete and cinderblocks for the past year or two, Leslie and I found the town’s wooden buildings quite refreshing.
        Refuge for the weary came in the form of a clean place where beds were had for about $2.42 per person. We took turns bathing in a shower with icy cold, clean water. Although our hotel had a toilet, I caught a glimpse of PVC pipe running toward the river. The houses across the way were built on stilts above the river which served as a sewer and a place to wash clothes.
        We walked up the hill to the nice hotel for dinner, which for Leslie and I was a plate of giant crayfish. Harvey had a fish that he loved. We then headed off to bed.
        After a family-style breakfast of eggs, rice and beans, tortillas and coffee for $1.45, we toured the town. It was quite picturesque, the only incongruity being the army encampment across the river. The soldiers were a demining unit, clearing out mines left from war days in the 1980s.

        Down the Rapids to Bartolla

        To reach Bartolla, a private nature preserve and hotel, we caught a boat that took us through the rapids and down the river. The hotel was a line of cabins built around a thatch shelter. After a family style lunch of crayfish, we paddled a creek that feeds into the Rio San Juan. It was our first trip in a dug out canoe. After about 10 seconds in it, I could see why people moved on to making other types of canoes. It was at least 20 feet long, not much wider than my hips and probably weighed more than the Korean car we rented a few days earlier. We paddled until we reached a ledge that prevented us from going any further and then we returned. The water was clear and cold.
        After showers and supper, we went to bed early. After another huge meal the next morning, we walked into  the jungle, then returned to clean up for our return trip to El Castillo where we stayed in the  nice hotel. It was here that I met another American.

        The Mennonite Missionary

There is something about Nicaragua that attracts weirdos. It because of this that Leslie and I have developed a habit of avoiding our countrymen. Every time I start to feel snobby and think we need to change our policy, something happens to confirm that we are right in doing so.

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