Lakes of lava in Nicaragua
factor. But to stare into the Earth’s crust and witness the fiery, molten rock that usually lies deep beneath us was truly awe-inspiring, transfixing. (I’d love to have had a vulcanologist on hand to determine, whether, as this lava was still technically below the surface it was actually still magma, but be still my beating geek heart).
Technically we were standing on the edge of the Santiago Crater, which in turn is one of many craters and vents that make up the Masaya volcano, which in turn is part of what is known as a pyroclastic shield volcano. (Banks Peninsula in Canterbury is an extinct example of one of these).
To the indigenous Nicaraguans of long ago, Masaya (along with about 18 other active volcanoes in the country) were a source of fear and believed to be the lair of gods that needed to be appeased.
They attempted to do this by, on occasions, hurling children and virgin girls into its depths.
It’s believed that the first man from the outside world to see the lava of Masaya was Spanish historian and writer Gonzalo Fernandez de Oviedo y Valdez, who was part of the Spanish conquest of the Caribbean region.
He reached the crater ring in 1529 and described it as ‘‘fire that was liquid and burned more fiercely than red hot coal’’.
Although the Spanish too, feared the lava lake, likening it to the entrance to hell, rather surprisingly it was a Spanish Friar, Blas de Castillo, clearly affected by the gold and silver lust that overcame the Spanish conquistadors, decided that what he was looking at was in fact an untapped source of molten gold and silver.
Several hair-raising attempts to climb down into the crater to extract samples followed.
Castillo descend into the fiery depths carrying a flagon of wine, a hammer and a crucifix – a fusion of religion and science.
Sadly for de Castillo and his helpers, their near-death experiences led to him concluding that all that glisters was definitely not gold but in fact a lump of scoria.
Today, there a reminder of the Spanish presence in the form of a cross, high on the crater rim, said to be the originally planted there by another Catholic friar, Francisco de Bobadilla, in an effort to keep any hellish horrors below ground.
Despite the glowing allure of volcanoes such as Masaya, Nicaragua remains the least visited of the seven Central American countries.
For many people memories of the civil war of the 1980s live on, despite the fact that the country is now stable and apparently has the lowest crime rate in all of Latin America.
Although the capital Managua is one of the least of Nicaragua’s charms (having been catastrophically damaged in a 1972 earthquake), the proximity of Masaya is a plus as is a drawcard for bird watchers, also only a short drive from the centre of the city.
The Chocoyero-el Brujo Nature Reserve is named after one of its two waterfalls (El Bojo) and the chocoyeros, the local name for the green Pacific parakeet.
Every day just before dusk, hundreds of these vibrantly coloured birds fly in to roost in the cliff face beside the second and smaller waterfall.
You hear the parakeets almost before you see them as they screech and chatter on their arrival home, pairs of birds preening and snuggling up together on tiny ledges or bare branches of tenacious shrubs that cling to the cliff edge.
This little-visited national park, although parched at the end of the dry season, also revealed to its few visitors Nicaragua’s spectacular national bird, the turquoisebrowed motmot.
A gorgeous combination of luminous greens and blues and orange, the motmots most extraordinary feature is its two long featherless tail shafts that end in little tennis racket-shaped shafts.
We stood for ages watching a motmot settle in for the evening before heading back down the path to the bus, but not before spotting a pair of beautiful owls nestled into cavities in a bank, just a few metres from us.