We suspect Chico Largo was conspiring against us. The ferry that was supposed to take us on the ten-hour cruise to the southern part of the lake and the island of Solentainame, with its artist colony, would not stop at Omotepe because of strong winds and choppy waters. A boat only went south on Tuesdays and Fridays. If we tried to wait for another boat, I wouldn't have time to get back to Managua for my flight home.

The next day we climbed Mt. Concepcion. We left early in the morning with a group of travelers following our guide, Diego. The trail climbed straight up to the mile-high peak where we had to crawl beneath the fierce wind gusts to look over the ledge and feel the sulfuric heat of the crater.

It was a hot day until we reached the cloud that never leaves the top of the volcano. At that point, Diego took off his shirt and wrapped it around his head for warmth. The shirt looked like a turban and made Diego look like a Nepalese sherpa.