We were on the fantastic and historical San Juan River of Nicaragua, having some away time in Nicaragua's most overlooked corner. And when Diego saw his first river otter sunning himself on a log, and when Valentina caught her first fish, I realized actually we were doing alright. Morning started just after 5AM, when the first morning birds began to call and dawn broke, taking us from night to light in just a few minutes. The Howler Monkeys on the far shore grew silent for a while, and before long the early morning river traffic began to ply the smooth waters of windless morning.

In April, 1998, after three intense months of training and cultural learning, I walked up the dusty path from the Condega-Yalí road to meet the Zavala family and begin two years of service teaching agronomy and soil conservation as a Peace Corps Volunteer. The Zavalas would be my family for the next two years, offering me a corner of their home and all their love and support as I lived in their community.

Fifteen years later, it was (mostly) all the same.

The hillsides were dry, but the little shade afforded by the almond and guanacaste trees threw into relief the concrete statues placed by the former owner: he'd reconstructed Nahuatl and Chorotega statues turned up in Ometepe and the Amerrisque mountains bearing tribute to Nicaragua's pre-Columbian history. But he'd done versions of the Buddha and a crucifix or two, as well, so the trail down to the water felt something like a paradeground of historical dignitaries.

When walking the cobbled streets of Jinotega, you can't help but feel you're at the edge of the world, with all kinds of unknowns in the hills to the north and east. In fact, hundreds of kilometers of wild, lush mountain country beckon to the east. East of the city the pavement stops, the roads turn rutted and bumpy, bus service is less frequent, and the accommodations dwindle ... But the immense department of Jinotega is comprised of hundreds of small communities and thousands of farmers who make their livelihood in the hills around them &emdash; including many who have barely ever traveled beyond this land in their lives.

We had a lot of fun in the Canary Islands, but when I think back on our trip, one mental image will stand out more than the rest: the Barranco de Guayadeque. And as usual, the side trip we took while on our way to somewhere else grew to outshine our original destination.

Bravery is relative, as is adventure. In Indonesia, I climbed volcanic Mount Batur before dawn, and reached the summit feeling triumphant only to find a Balinese 10 year old had done the same, wearing flip-flops and carrying a case of soda on his head to sell to us. There's always a team braver than you and it's inspiring to meet those who coax you into discovery and adventure. In Senegal, that team was OAR Northwest. Here's a picture of them as they set out on a cross-Atlantic voyage, rowing from Dakar to Miami. I was there as they left terra firma in January 2013 and I've thought of them every day since.