The water taxis were running this morning, With no propane tank connected, we went ashore for coffee and and a desayuno of egg and fried mashed plantains. We brought our folding bikes ashore.

After breakfast we headed up the hill on the bikes to get out of the bustling town and maybe find some lava tunnels and see some of the countryside in the highlands. The first lava tunnel was at the edge of town, with a fenced view into the gloom. A few miles later came the little farming community of Bella Vista, and about a mile beyond that there was a hand painted sign by the road advertising more Los Tuneles.

This was a private lava tunnel park, or rather a cafe bar with signs for the tunnels. No one seemed to be around, but when Robin shouted “hola!” The proprietress, Lea, appeared and explained the tunnel to us - this one was 2 km long, but we could only walk through 1 km of the tunnel, the rest was too rough. There were lights, but if the lights didn’t work, we should use the lights on our cell phones. For $3.50 each we were allowed in, and each issued a banana in case of emergency.

I had made the mistake of wearing dark prescription sunglasses, and when we descended into the tunnel it was pitch dark, no lights. With our cell phone lights we could see there were light fixtures, they just weren’t on.I started to follow the wire back to look for a switch. But then the lights came on, dim bluish LED fixtures to light the gloom.

But it was fun - this was the tallest, deepest, longest lava tunnel we have found. White painted arrows pointed to the best way around and over the scattered rocks and boulders. In many places the floor was hard sand smooth. Robin was ini seventh heaven, pointing out the lines on the walls marking different lava flow levels. And we had the tunnel to ourselves until close to the end, when we heard the laughter of children in the family following us in the dark.

After the tunnel tour we asked Lea if there were any scenic views further up the road. Lea had about as much English vocabulary as I have Spanish, but we managed to converse, and I made sure to tell her we came by sailboat.

Lea said that Cerro Mesa was about six or seven km up the road, with a left at the fork. That seemed doable, so we road the pavement up the hill into the garua mists, passing small farms with bananas or truly free ranging chickens or a handful of cattle. Finally we reached a nice view over a field and under the cloud, out to the sea and Sante Fe island, with the town and harbor visible off to the side. I prevailed on Robin to keep climbing up the road to where the radio tower was - that had to be the summit - but when we got there, there was no clear view and no public lookout, only a misty road headed down the other side.

So we turned back to Bella Vista and had lunch at the only restaurant that was open - the five dollar menu del dia was fish soup, and a choice of beef stew or fried chicken. With rice, of course. All was delicious.