The soil of this range consists, to a depth of ten to forty feet, of clay of various grades and colors, red prevailing. In the valleys this clay is almost invariably of a very dense consistency, and deep, dark red in color.
From the foot-hills of the range to the coast, is a low level stretch of country, a dozen miles wide, interspersed with lagoons and swamps. Near the hills, where the elevation of the ground will average about fifteen feet above sea level, the soil is composed almost entirely of the before mentioned red clay, which occasionally assumes the form of hummocks. Within about six miles of the coast this stratum of clay gradually disappears under a layer of sand, which is in turn covered, by a vegetable mould, to a depth of a few feet. From this point to the sea the average elevation is barely five feet above the sea level, and the sand and mould above mentioned are the only materials met. A short distance from the ocean the vegetable earth-covering disappears and only the sand is left, extending to an unknown depth and reaching out into the sea.
West of Lake Nicaragua, from the Rio Lajas to Brito, as we leave the lake shore, the ground rises almost imperceptibly to the "Divide" among cleared and gently undulating fields. Then we drop into the sinuous gorge of the Rio Grande only to emerge, a few miles farther on, into the upper end of the Rio Grande and Tola basin.
To the right the Tola valley stretches to the northward, and all around high and wooded hills encircle the valleys except directly in front where a narrow gateway in the coast hills opens to the Pacific. In the bottom of this valley are a few farms and through it wander devious roads. Beyond the narrow gateway in the hills, less than three miles of level swampy salinas reach to the surf of the Pacific.
The views from the hills which flank the gateway of the Rio Grande, at La Flor, are wonderfully attractive. I well remember one camp on the hillside, from which in one direction the eye takes in the fertile valley of the Tola and Rio Grande, backed by the rolling hills of the "Divide" and over them the symmetrical peak of Ometepe, its base washed by the waves of the great lake. In the other direction the Pacific lies apparently but a stone's throw below, the little port of Brito at one's very feet.
This same camp inspired one young engineer and enthusiast to express himself something as follows:
