The Corn Islands are situated sixty miles off the east coast of Nicaragua. A tiny pair of peaks poking from the azure waters, these islands are some of the least-touristed and least-developed paradises in the Caribbean. The only tourist facilities are a couple small resorts along the south coast of the big island, an occasional spot to eat lunch, and one or two cheap hostels constantly enshrouded in a mist of mosquitoes waiting for a lunch of their own. If you’re looking to visit Club Med, party with a bunch of drunken tourists, wake up with a hangover and go parasailing or jetskiing, the Corn Islands may not be the place for you. But if it’s untouched, undeveloped splendor you seek, or a chance to sit on empty stretches of beach or snorkel around rusted, wrecked ships, this is where you’ll find them.
They say it’s always raining in the coast town of Bluefields, the jumping-off point for the Corn Islands, and the city did not disappoint on the morning I arrived in the panga from Rama. The only way to get to Bluefields is by boat down the Rio Escondido. At six in the morning, I climbed aboard the ten-person boat waiting at the decrepit dock, threw my backpack into the rear, and claimed a bit of bench.
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