Published: The Orlando Sentinel
“We’ll cruise on the main road till there,” said Chris, tracing the route along the clearly marked Pan-American Highway, the main artery through Central America, “and turn off right about here to head for the coast,” his index finger sliding west along a vague, snaking line that looked more like an errant pencil mark than a clearly delineated Nicaraguan motorway. According to the surf bible, the road was a rutted dirt track, impassable during the wet season but doable during the dry months. Despite a few ominous storm clouds on the horizon, it was still officially the dry season. And that was all the official backing Chris needed to try to talk me into yet another detour in search of surf.