Riding the history train
There used to be a train that ran through El Sauce, Nicaragua.
During the civil war, it stopped running and after a time people took up the track to sell for money. The train was sold to Japan.
Now, the former track is a dirt trail that runs from the old station turned library, on either side of town. There are several iron bridges to cross, with big iron plates: built by a US company in 1933. There's a dry river bed under the two we ride over.
There are simple houses along the way, including those the government built for families who at first built their own using scraps and plastic and whatever else they found.
Solano took us on a sunset bike ride.
At the second bridge, it was dark. The moon was low and full and lit our tiny little selves in its shine. You could still see the clouds fluffy and white, as if muff day, rolling across the sky and stars.
Solano went below to take photos with a cell phone. I followed. I had them hold my head lamp toward them and took the photo.
Then up top, I explained the tradition: a long time ago, in orcas island, atop the mountain, Jessie and I wondered at the beauty of the universe and how WE got HERE. I yelled "I love my life!" At the top of my lungs.
We all did this on the bridge, hollering to the night.