Hammocks Sway Lazily In Secluded Corn Islands

BIG CORN ISLAND, Nicaragua — It's not easy getting to one of the Caribbean's best-kept secrets.

But if you can survive an all night bus and boat ride or a hair-raising flight in a 12-seat puddle jumper, you'll be rewarded with the Caribbean ideal: Long stretches of empty beaches, towering coconut trees, crystalline water and lobsters plucked from the sea.

I have long been obsessed with Nicaragua's Corn Islands, a pair of former pirate lairs 18 miles apart and just off Nicaragua's Atlantic coast. They are so remote as to be almost country-less — only recently have the islands been really integrated into the rest of Nicaragua. A Caribbean-inflected English is as common as Spanish since the islands' inhabitants are a blend of descendants of African slaves and Miskito Indians.

The remoteness has left the islands unspoiled — Big Corn has 8,000 residents; Little Corn just 500 inhabitants. There are no all-inclusive mega-resorts and the beaches are as likely to be filled with locals as with tourists. It's easy to find yourself the only soul on a secluded white sand beach just a few steps from your cabana or hammock.

But as tourists — and investors — increasingly discover Nicaragua as a cheap and safe vacation spot, the Corn Islands stand on the cusp of development that could bring an end to this Eden-like existence.

My wife and I had hoped to visit the Corn Islands on our honeymoon last year, but decided against it when we realized how logistically challenging it is to get there. After pulling off a 200-person wedding on the Mexican border, we wanted a worry-free escape, so we saved the Corn Islands for another time.

When we finally arrived in Nicaragua in September, we chose the more expensive, but infinitely quicker mode of arrival: plane. By land it's a harrowing ride over what one guidebook calls "one of the worst roads in the country" and then two long boat rides to the islands, which sit 43 miles offshore.

As our tiny plane dipped and jumped in the air currents over Big Corn Island, we caught sight of the main draw: pristine beaches and turquoise waters.

Our accommodations at the Paraiso Club hotel were typical of the Corn Islands — a reed-covered cabana nestled in the tropical forest hugging the coastline.

While the lodgings are a little rougher than your average resort, the prices make up for it. You can find beachside cabanas for $30 or $40 a night and the most expensive places weren't more than $80.

Our fellow travelers were not your typical tourists. Our hotel companions included a Canadian expat building power plants in Honduras, a British motorcycle journalist and a Spanish sculptor who always wore white robes.

By evening the motley group would gather at the hotel bar, sipping pina coladas made from fresh pineapple and coconuts and eating seafood caught hours earlier. By day we hunted for empty stretches of beach and more seafood.

The residents of Corn Islands live largely from fishing. We ate Caribbean-style Yellowtail Snapper in a coconut cream sauce that left us with an afterglow, and ultra-fresh shrimp that snapped like green beans.

The islands are famous for their lobster, but a recent rash of light winds had made them scarcer than usual, the locals said. We managed to score two fat tails for $15, considerably more than the usual price. Caribbean lobsters are different from their Maine counterparts: they lack claws, but have meatier tails.

Modest, brightly colored wooden houses dotted the beach, but we wondered how long they would survive once the big resorts discovered the place. Walking through neighborhood streets (unpaved roads of sand), we heard groups of men bantering in a Jamaican-like patois and rapid, Cuban-style Spanish. Teenagers switched easily from one language to the next and my wife and I laughed at how similar it was (at least linguistically) to the Texas-Mexico border.

Curiously, the most popular music on the island appeared to be country-and-western (reggaeton — a blend of Jamaican reggae and Latin American hip-hop — was a close second). At first I thought the Nashville sound was just for the benefit of the visitors from the United States, but more than once we entered a bar or restaurant to find groups of locals jamming out to Willie Nelson.

The Caribbean coast in Central America has always marched to a different drum than the rest of the continent. The area eluded Spanish control and was a British protectorate for a century, becoming a melting pot of indigenous tribes, African slaves and Anglo buccaneers. Nicaragua technically took control of its Caribbean coast in 1859, but the area has retained a cultural and governmental independence reflected in its official name: The Autonomous Region of the Atlantic.

The owner of our hotel, a 34-year-old Dutchman named Michiel Brouwer, mirrored the great cultural mix on the islands, but also the wide-open opportunities for adventuresome investors.

Brouwer and his partner spent months looking for a place to open up a hotel in the Caribbean, traveling to places like Curacao, St. Martens and Martinique, but didn't find anything that matched the picture in their heads.

They had never even heard of the Corn Islands, but took a trip there after reading about them. They found a 45-person hotel on the beach for sale and were blown away by the asking price — less than $400,000. An equivalent property would be worth millions in a place like the U.S. Virgin Islands, Brouwer said.

"There's a huge opportunity here, but it's extremely fragile," Brouwer said. "I always say that when the first cruise ship arrives, I'm selling."

He and others worry about what development will do to environment and way of life, but recognize that investment may be necessary to get some badly needed improvements. Roads are a major problem on Big Corn Island and are often disastrously rutted, especially after heavy rains.

And the electricity crisis gripping Nicaragua doesn't spare the islands. When we were there, the power went out from 4 a.m. to 10 a.m. daily, making for some sticky, air conditioner-less mornings.

Safety has been a concern on the islands in the past and drug runners, following in the footsteps of their pirate ancestors, reportedly use them as stopover points from South America.

But we didn't feel ill at ease in our short stay.

Probably more dangerous is the addictiveness of swinging in a hammock along the beach, buffeted by the Caribbean breezes.

If you go:

How to get there: Most trips will go through Managua, Nicaragua's tourist unfriendly capital. Delta has nonstop flights from Atlanta for around $700 roundtrip. American Airlines has direct flights from Miami for $440 and Continental has flights from Austin through Houston for $700. From Managua, flights on tiny propeller planes on La Costena or Atlantic Airlines are $164 roundtrip. From Managua, you can also take a bus to Rama, a boat to the colorful port of Bluefields, and a ferry to Big Corn Island for less than $30. Boats pass daily between Big Corn and Little Corn Island.

Where to Stay: Paraiso Club has beachside cabanas with air conditioning, a good restaurant and a pet monkey for $70 a night. Casa Canada is Big Corn Island's most luxurious spot, with rooms starting at $75. Numerous hotels, such as La Princesa de la Isla offer no-frills beachside cabanas for about $40. On Little Corn Island, the eco-lodge Casa Iguana has cabins from $25 to $80.

What to do: Many hotels offer snorkeling or scuba (especially on Little Corn Island), as well as fishing trips.

More Info:

http://www.vianica.com/visit/corn-islands

www.bigcornisland.com

ENDIT