Border Crossing 1

After such a dramatic couple of days and a potentially problematic border crossing ahead of us, we decided to take it easy and head to a campsite near the border of Costa Rica and Nicaragua for the evening. We got there without a problem and found the campsite was run by a Swiss couple that had been living on this Finca estate for 26 years - they had chickens roosting in the trees, crocodiles in the river next door, families of monkeys above us, sloths hanging wherever they fancied and a carpet of fireflies after dark. It was a good last stop! After parking up we got our soggy, sulphur smelling clothes from the hike out to dry, cracked a beer and started the prep for tomorrow’s mission: Crossing the border to Nicaragua and it had a bad reputation.

We’d heard tonnes of horror stories and even met couples who'd had their vehicles impounded at the border. The advice was to go at night when there are fewer staff and when they just want to get you out of their way, but we’d also heard that driving in Nica at night was unwise (unknown roads in an unknown country with potentially corrupt police) so we took the lesser of two evils and got ready to cross first thing Monday morning.

With our van clean (enough) and our paperwork in order (fingers crossed) we headed out, stopping at a little shop to spend all our Costa Rican coins on snacks and drinks for the day ahead. We exited Costa Rica relatively easily then fell head first into the Nicaraguan entry queue for vehicles. With no signs anywhere and no clear outline of the process at the border we were completely reliant on info from other travellers that had been posted online – this can be hit and miss at best!

The first and most important port of call was to get the van checked and approved by customs, after joining several of the wrong queues we were pointed to a large man in a small hut with a hi-vis on who asked if we had a dog (no) and said our van was very cute. After only opening the side door and closing it he had seen enough and stamped a piece of paper to point us towards another queue! We were expecting a full scan of the van, drawers to be emptied and herb pots to be sniffed, but nothing of the sort happened. The rest of the process was a breeze – a hot sticky and at times really annoying breeze, but definitely a lot easier that we had expected.

With Franky and ourselves stamped and ready to roll we made it across the border and headed towards a surf town in the south of the country. We were keen to get to the beach but were astounded at the change of landscape, people and atmosphere just by covering a few kilometres. We pulled up in a village near the lake to take in

the view – the two volcanoes just about visible on the island were breathtaking. As we left the village we saw a girl at a bus stop who’d crossed the border the same time as us, we pulled up and offered her a lift to the town. Unfortunately for her our not-yet-dry and definitely-still-smelly hiking clothes had stunk the place out, but she had to sit in the back of the van with them stinking like mad, what she must have thought of us!

We made it to San Juan Del Sur, a lazy fishing town that had become popular with expats. There were local restos, dive bars and surf shops aplenty sprinkled with tourist tat shops and hostels. We grabbed a beer on a sea front resto for an absolute steal and took in the fresh breeze coming from the sea and the laid back island vibe that came with it. We loved our time in Costa Rica, but it’s definitely time for a fresh start in a new place - and some surf!