Is This Nicaragua's Most Perfect Beach?

The setting sun cast burnt-orange rays that reflected off the mirror-like surface left on the sand as the sea withdrew. Staring in silence at one of nature‘s daily miracles, a group of horse riders came trotting by, silhouettes that cast a faint shadow onto the sand.

This was exactly what we needed after eight weeks of independent travel through Costa Rica, Guatemala, and El Salvador. Tired, we had unexpectedly landed in a little slice of heaven on Nicaragua’s Pacific Coast.

Picking the name from a guidebook, we made our way to the tiny town of Jiquelite in a quest for some rest and relaxation. Jiquelite is so undeveloped that you may not realise it is there even when standing in the middle of the town. Empty building plots are laid out in a grid system, crisscrossed by dirt and gravel roads shared with dogs and horses. But the town is home to a stretch of beach that remains largely undiscovered. Walk down its pristine sand and it would be unusual to pass anybody else on the stretch of sand.

Jiquelite, however, is developing in preparation for the traveller boom expected when the new main road, passing just two km away, is completed. Before it can fully flourish though, it will need to build a new access road; the current one has ruts so deep it could take a front bumper off. Luckily, our taxi was already missing its front end, a fact skilfully hidden by the driver who had parked so we had approached from the rear!

Although dusty, hard to get to, and unfinished, it is developing. Just across from our accommodation lies the ultramodern Hide and Seek Resort, and its equally modern Oasis café, with pristine whitewashed walls and a courtyard filled with trees and plants. Try the Grilled Fish on Lemon Butter Rice!

Our accommodation, The Banana Tree, was a small plot of just eight self-contained bungalows overlooking a large, shallow pool. The friendly neighbourhood cats would pay a visit as you relaxed on the veranda, escaping the afternoon heat. Each bungalow has its own kitchen, a welcome addition as options for eating out are limited. Two small shops and a scant scattering of restaurants serve the town. Both are expensive by comparison to the rest of the country, such is the price of isolation.

Walking west along the gravel road, we spotted an osprey fly overhead carrying in its talons a fish as large as it was. Then, following a dirt path through a band of trees, you suddenly stumble across the jewel in Jiquelite’s crown. Its beach.

The path emerges in the middle of Playa Jiquelite. To the right, a deceptive 20-minute walk lies Risco Valdico, a natural rock formation that sits at the northern tip, before turning the corner into Playa Popoyo. Here, surfers ride the waves in the relative safety of the bay.  To the left, another 20-minute walk takes you to La Bocana Surf Spot, nestled into the flatter landscape at the southern end. The beach was deserted. Walking towards Risco Valdico, there were a few hotels set back, pioneers playing the long game of tourism.

I am not a beach person. Sand gets into places it really shouldn’t, but Playa Jiquelite is different. Not beautiful in the traditional sense, there are no palm trees fringing pure white sand, but what it lacks from its Caribbean counterparts, it more than makes up for in character and seclusion. The beach descends into the warm Pacific Ocean; large waves constantly break onto the beach whilst squadrons of pelicans soar low over the white water.

Undoubtedly, if we came back in ten or even five years, we would encounter a very different town, but for now at least, we were thankful that tourism was yet to reach this idyllic spot.