Well, I’m going to sneak in one more, short travelogue
before I leave. In looking for another
interesting, nearby place that I haven’t visited yet, it turned out that Yelba,
the wife of one of the technicians at the Centro Solar, grew up in Dipilto and
offered to go there with me. Dipilto is
a town about the size of Totogalpa (so in the 8-10 thousand range for the
municipality) that is located about the same distance north of Ocotal that
Sabana Grande is to the south, or in other words, about 30 km north of Sabana
Grande. It takes a bus change in Ocotal
each way and all except the last bus home were relatively uncrowded (i.e., there was room to at least shift your
weight from foot to foot if you were
standing). It turns out that Yelba (who
is not very big) is a pro at the
get-on-the-bus-and-get-a-seat-even-when-there-is-mob-pushing-to-get-on game, so
I had a seat on 2 of the 4 buses! (I
just can’t bring myself to push as much as I guess I need to in order to get a
seat—she said the key is being small and being able to squeeze through/under as
needed.)
This was my first time north of Ocotal (although hopefully
I’ll be retracing this path again on the way to Honduras next week) and it was
truly amazing how much different the landscape becomes within less than 30
km. The elevation is several hundred
feet higher, which puts Dipilto in the midst of pines and even a little coffee
(although the real coffee production is still a bit higher and farther north. It is enough higher to be noticeably cooler/fresher
than Ocotal or even Sabana Grande. It
is also located in/on/among real mountains as opposed to in a broad, flat
valley, plus it has a clear, running river cascading down among rocks (even now
in the heart of the dry season, which is called “summer” here). The overall feeling is more like a small town
in the Rockies than anything else I’ve seen in Nicaragua—however you could
never mistake it for the US West because of the bananas and other more tropical
plants. It was really nice to sit there
and hear both the rustle of wind through pine needles and the sound of
rapids—it was reminiscent of our time in the Olympic Mountains two years ago or
some of the forest streams up around Ashland.
The Pan-Am Highway through Dipilto is on the side of a steep
slope, so there is not much at the same level as the road—you must either go
farther down into the valley or farther up the slope to arrive at most houses
or businesses. In addition, the hills
preclude the dense wall-to-wall packing of buildings as is typical in
cities/towns here and they also prevent imposing a square street grid, so you
don’t really get the feeling that you were left off the bus at much of a place. Along the highway are: the ubiquitous statue of Sandino, a small
park (there is no typical central park across from the church here) and the
municipal building—everything else requires an elevation change to get to.
Statue of Sandino on his mule (and draped in the Sandinista colors). The municipal building is the one to the left. |
A small park with gazebo along the highway. |
As you walk down into town, the streets are much narrower
and windier than in Ocotal or Totogalpa, and also much steeper on average. The highlights of Dipilto (in addition to the
lovely setting) are the church and the Virgen de la Piedra (Virgin of the
Rock). The Virgin is a shrine to
(surprise!) Mary and is located where she purportedly appeared to some locals
in a vision. The shrine is perched on
the top of a large boulder with a small chapel next to it and this is all set
in a beautiful garden along the river and leading up the hillside. The plants are all watered so even in dry
season, it is very lush.
Typical street in Dipilto: paved with concrete pavers as is common in Nicaragua, limited line-of-sight due to curves and relatively steep. Snow, of course, is not a consideration here. |
A close-up of the Virgin of the Rock, although it’s very hard to get a good angle. |
A telephoto view of the rock and the adjacent chapel from the highway. |
The church is interesting to me to see how it was rebuilt
after having the walls collapse with the rains of Hurricane Mitch. Outside, it doesn’t look much different than
many, fairly simple, old, small-town churches (and incidentally, in case you
are wondering from past posts, it DOES face west), but it was rebuilt of
concrete block rather than adobe. Inside
it is obviously much more modern and therefore less interesting (at least to
me), but it does have some nice design features, such as stone/tile work and
some pieces from the old church. The
acoustical tile ceiling doesn’t match other options for beauty, but the white
ceiling and more windows than adobe churches give a much lighter interior.
Exterior and interior views of the Dipilto church. |
It was mostly just a relaxing, restful stroll through a
really beautiful place. There are no
doubt more interesting things to find, but the topography would have made more
exploration more tiring that I’m currently in the mood for. One hates to wish too much success on a place
that is naturally so nice and uncrowded, but this is the kind of place that I
think could generate some tourist activity for those looking for quiet, cool,
restful beauty.
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