Hey friend,

It is a chilly (meaning, without looking at the thermometer, around 71-73ºF), wet evening. In the last l5 days, we have had 274 millimeters of rain--about 11 inches. It would be safe to say that here in the department of Masaya in the municipality of Niquinohomo in the community of Hojachigüe, El Niño's drought is over. Don't go cranking up your fossil-fueled engines just for the joy of it, though. I think El Niño and La Niña are waiting around the corner for another turn. The pastures are growing like crazy and the trees we've planted are definitely looking happy--at least the half that haven't gotten munched on by leaf cutter ants.

Sunday, September 13, I rode my bike with my friend Javier (the farm manager) up the volcano nearest us: Mombacho (Moem BAH choe). Actually, we only rode to about a quarter of the way up (about eight or nine miles from the farm). Then we had to push the bikes because the route Javier chose was the steep, relatively short one. Unfortunately, it was shorter than we thought, because it ended about halfway up the mountain at a coffee farm. But that wasn't so bad because it had been half-drizzling, half-raining all the way up the mountain and we were very wet and I wascold. The farm is a cooperative, and two of the nine members were home. I asked if they had any coffee brewed up.

The two members invited us in out of the breeze and wetness and had one of their sons brew us up some Mombacho organic coffee. Javier and I sat in homemade folding chairs, while the men sat in hammocks slung along the walls of a long, high-roofed shed that the cooperative had apparently converted into a comfortable home, probably for more than one family. While we waited, the men explained that the cooperative had formed during the government of the Frente Sandinista and had been in existence now for over ten years. They also told us that it was about a mile and a half from the farm to the top of the volcano, but along footpaths that could get anyone not from there lost pretty quick. We talked about coffee growing and the drought this year. They said that some parts of the plantation have a good crop--which will be harvested November through January--but in other parts, this year's crop is sparse to non-existent. They asked us if we had actually ridden our bikes up and if we planned on riding them backdown. We said "no" to both questions.

The coffee farmers also told us about the reserve that has been established on Mombacho, an area of around 1800 acres where lumbering is theoretically completely prohibited. In the reserve is the last "cloud jungle" along the Pacific Coast of Nicaragua, along with several other types of forest that together form the habitat for 138 species of birds and 118 other types of animals, 85 species of orchids and 370 other types of plants. Actually, they didn't spout off all those numbers. One of the men lent me a pamphlet that describes the volcano and the reserve.

When the coffee was ready, they served it to us strong, hot, black and with lots of sugar. Few cups of coffee have tasted so good. When we left, the coffee farmers invited us back. We may not have made it to the top of the volcano this trip but we still found at least two of the treasures of Mombacho: good coffee and good people.

On the way back to the farm, the rain started coming down even harder, so the last fraction of our clothing that hadn't already gotten soaked became fully saturated. We stopped in town for a hot lunch. The restaurant proprietor served us without giving us too many odd looks, even when I pulled out my soaked wallet and paid with saturated Córdobas. He did suggest that I keep my wallet in a plastic bag when I go on trips like this. It seemed like such a good idea, I asked him if he had a plastic bag he could give me, and he did. I placed my fresh, dry change, along with my soaked wallet in that plastic bag, but somehow the dry money got soaked anyway and the soaked wallet still wasn't dry by the time I got home. The plastic bag didn't work at all.

On the dirt road back to the farm, we sloshed through a good half mile of mud, but the rod base must be very solid because we had no problem grinding through all of it. Naturally, we were in the best of shape by the time Javier dropped me off at the farm. He did a few errands then rode alone the last mile to his house. I checked my rabbits, watched "Tarzan" on Channel Two, took a bath (with my personal bucket) and was asleep by 8 o'clock.

Obviously all my days aren't filled with bike trips up exotic mountains. Most days consist of feeding my rabbits (I've got four females with a totalof 20 baby rabbits and another female due to give birth in about two weeks), digging garden beds, helping put together the monthly work plan for me and the rest of the crew, hauling manure to the hill where we're developing conservation techniques, working in the tree nursery, doing soil tests and writing reports, and other chores. Life right now is consistent, ordered and productive. Besides the ants, there is an iguana that's eating all the beans in two garden beds we planted with ten different species of legumes, sunflowers, and two or three unknown mustard type species from El Salvador. The hard rains have also eroded the four raised beds we've dug. But these are manageable problems. I am disappointed that I have not had more interaction with communities around the country working with the farm in small animal projects, but I have talked with my boss, Francisco Juárez, about what I would like to do and he is open to the possibilities. Francisco seems to appreciate my work and I appreciate his openness, his idealism, and his sense of direction.

As always, there are many challenges, some more serious than the ants and the iguana, but if these challenges did not exist, faith would be too easy and have too little meaning. I don't believe that God wills the ills of the world on those who bear them, but I do believe that, crazy as it is, it is often in the struggle through the quagmires of life that God's love and God's joy are most completely revealed. Both in the short, wet, struggles up the nearest mountain and in the longer, more serious trials caused by human evil, God is present and accounted for. Look for Her.

God's peace be with you.

Mark Hare