Acc: Hilleberg Allak tent
Dist: 34,9 km
Start: 06:00 End: 13:30
My cliff camp stays quiet, my Navy boys boat is gone, no people, no falling rocks, just some strange bird noises. I am also far enough away from the wall to be safe from any rock. I just hope there comes no mayor earthquake just tonight. The sky is full of stars, the moon is already in the last quarter. Somehow, the night scenery with the rolling surf noise feels a bit eerie, as in case of a Tsunami wave, I am trapped. I am fascinated by the many boat lights far offshore; a lot of men are busy all night catching fish. Soon, I fall asleep, bathed in sweat, but leaving the dozens of flying beetles outside my bug net.
I pack in darkness as usual to catch all possible calm minutes of the day. There is some surfbreak this morning, the belt feels much wider than yesterday. The wash up the shallow beach is long, and I have to carefully chose the spot where I load my kayak. I even chose not to sit and scoop my breakfast but to use any wash to get closer and finally afloat. The paddle through the surf is mellow with some care, but somehow, there is no clear finish of the break this morning as the sea feels higher than yesterday. Still, all is finally good and I scoop my breakfast before starting to paddle. My body feels sore from yesterday’s stubbornness to paddle that long into twenty knots headwinds, as well as my bum. I have to motivate myself to get going, although the offshore headwind is already fifteen knots this morning. Thankfully, it goes down again when changing direction to onshore.
I have to pass the wide breaking outflow of a river lagoon, and aim almost two kilometers offshore. My watchdogs of the day arrive, it seems like Nicaragua’s Navy also likes to give me some security escort. But also this crew, after their private picture shooting, I have to point out to stay far away from me which they finally do. Soon after rounding the outflow, the wind breezes to close to twenty knots again, the sea becomes lumpy and here and there, I see some mellow reef break I have to avoid. My chart shows soon a wide reef area offshore, which results in calmer seas, thank goodness. No more swell, the shore break looks easy.
I was thinking to paddle up to the peninsula opening, but when I like to aim for the port of Corinto, I have paddled already half distance with my thirty-five kilometers now. I see a small shore reef break where I marked a calmish landing, make a quick decision and call it a day in the headwind. I just have enough, and this landing is too easy not to be tempting. An exposed rocky reef gives the shelter, a perfect spot. Also camping looks nice in an open lush wilderness, I even see sea shells and barely any trash. A lovely place!
My watch dogs notice late they have lost me, and I can imagine how they confused turn around and are relieved o finally spot me standing on the shore fully intact. They anchor upfront my beach all afternoon, but head off around five. Somehow I feel sorry for the five guys in the boat, frying in the hot sun, looking at their phones all day and not being able to come to shore like me. Some motorbikes and a car pass by the beach, all people wave friendly back. I do a bit of reef exploring before retracting into my tent. The rocky area shows clear signs of being regularly harvested for edible shells while I chase up a few larger fish and hundreds of smaller ones. It finally feels so nice to have landed at a mellow reef beach, without the ever-annoying and stressing surf noise, and I even have a bath in some reef pools. it is a relaxing afternoon with even the sun occasionally hiding thankfully behind some clouds. I enjoy the nature and feel safe here, all good!