Scuba Diving on the North Coast

I went scuba diving on Tuesday morning this week. The weather was humid and hot and the water was warm and calm. From the beach in Sosua, we took a small boat (panga) out to a dive buoy on our site called "Three Rocks" not more than a ten minute boat ride. Six of us in the boat: the driver Domingo, Master Instructor Jane, Divemaster Rosie, diver Heidi, and divers Tre and Tamara. The first dive of the morning was a shallow dive over sand around three large reef covered rocks. After circling these, across more sand where hundreds of brown garden eels were swaying gently in the minimal ground swell awaiting their next meal. We then traversed a feature of concrete "reef balls", dropped there to create an artificial reef in a coastal ecosystem that hangs at a precipice of environmental disaster. The swim over the reef balls wasn't over exciting, the balls at present providing more importantly a place for fish to hide from predators, mainly Dominican's spearfishing in the protected area. The reciprocal swim took us over an area know as "Reef Gardens" where i saw a stone fish swimming between small patches of reef.

Additionally, on the first dive we spotted a localized and rare stingray, three lionfish, two spotted moray eels, trunkfish, a filefish, a spotted drum fish, and I saw two Harlequin Sea Bass. There were many other more plentiful reef fish around us as well, and feeding the yellowtail from a bottle of break turned the fish into a frenzy of fins and tails all around me.

Dive two was at a site called "West Wall". Its a coral drop-off that at its edge sinks to about 30 meters. We followed it for some time at a depth of about 15 meters before swimming up and over the top of the shelf on our return. Upon surfacing from this dives we saw a pod of dolphins swimming by the dive site. After getting all the divers in the boat as quickly as possible, Domingo started the outboard and we drove after the dolphins to get another glance. Domingo cut the engine after our last sighting, and I readied myself to jump over the side with only my mask. I jumped in the water and just saw the pod of three dolphins swimming underneath me out into the Atlantic.

"Dive Cabarete" was a great outfitter to go with. Look up this family run business to get in the water and blow some bubbles.

Cabarete for the remainder

Cabarete for the remainder

This is my forth time here or something, whose counting? It was easy to talk Tamara into spending our last two weeks in the country here in this location. Our volunteer friend Lindsey joined us for the first two nights. This time around we tried two new places for accommodations. The first hotel had small, but nicely managed studios and the tastiest breakfast restaurant in town. Claro is run by Sandy, a German living in Cabarete with her husband from New York. The quiche, coffee, omelets, and fruit plates are uber good.

Tamara, Lindsey, and I stayed with another volunteer and her mom and sister at their rental house in Puerta Plata nearby for the third night. The house was really kick ass. Tamara and I stayed in the third level, cupola room. It had good views of the ocean and its own bathroom and balcony. Hands down this was my favorite place that I’ve stayed here in the DR. The house only cost Amanda’s mom $125 nightly, a good rate for a 4 bedroom house so near the beach, and includes a pool and a maid who comes to cook breakfast daily. That night we did chips, dips, pizza and I enjoyed the political conversation more than the wedding topics with the 5 ladies.

I’m now at a place called Wind Chimes, located across the street from the beach, where we’ve found the best deal with some searching. I paid $250 for two weeks lodging in a poolside studio. The room has A/C which is necessary up here on the second level under this hot tin roof. Only complaints are a fierce ant population and crappy internet connection.

The wind is not what I had hoped for. I’ve had I think 5 days of kitesurfing here in 25 days total, which works out to 20% of days with good wind. My experience here in the spot is far under what they claim for 50% windy days December through May. I won’t see June, July, or August here, when the statistic reads 100% days with enough wind. I’ve pacified myself with the surfing on some days, running and swimming on some others.

The other entertainment I’ve had good access to here above anywhere else in the country is Stanley Cup Playoffs coverage. The Canadian owned sports bar on the beach plays ice hockey on at least three of the six TV’s whenever a game is on. I like that I’m watching my favorite team, the Boston Bruins, in their cup bid from a beach in the Caribbean. Round three of the playoffs starts Saturday, and tonight Ill watch game 7 of the Detroit Red Wings vs. San Jose Sharks series. I’m rooting for Detroit, I always like to see a team who starts the series down 3 games come back and win the last 4 to move up to the next round. My guess is that Boston will play Vancouver in the final game, and I hope I see Boston take the trophy.

Manabao and La Cieniga; the base of Pico Duarte

Manabao and La Cieniga; the base of Pico Duarte

Manabao is a short drive up the valley from Jarabacoa. We chose to take the gua gua there, the pickup truck that takes goods and residents back and forth in more remote parts of the country. The 20 kilometer drive took us 4 hours. Two hours we spent standing on the street waiting for the truck to fill and begin the journey. The bed of the truck was loaded and reloaded until goods and luggage were stacked up much higher than the cab. Next, the driver stopped once or twice for the next 5 blocks to do a woman passenger’s grocery shopping. It took us another hour to actually get to the edge of town and start the drive up through the valley. My ass was completely numb from sitting on the edge of the truck bed, but the view on the way up didn’t disappoint. I got plenty of time to see the sights and snap some photos; the truck crept up the inclines and stopped frequently to let passengers off at intermediate villages.

A volunteer named Jen lives in Manabao, and Tamara had agreed to watch her cabin and feed her cat while she was gone for a visit to the USA. The cab was really simple; a latrine, running water in the kitchen, electricity all day, a compost pile outside the back door, and its best feature was being perched on the hill side and offering a great view of the valley. I set up my hammock and filled up the rum in the Mamajuana. I was ready for 5 days of relaxing, reading, writing, and hiking. Tamara and I passed some of the days at a swimming hole in a river nearby and I took some morning runs up the trails behind the cabin.

A Peace Corps volunteer group was training in the town on a water project and it was interesting to meet some of the volunteers and see the project’s progress. One day, Tamara and I headed further up the valley to the town of La Cieniga, entrance to the national park that holds the Caribbean’s highest peak; Pico Duarte. A volunteer there named Peter showed us around the park a little bit. Tamara’s and my old house mates from San Francisco were there to start the three day hike to the summit the following day. After viewing the mountain top from a newly built private hilltop cabin with Peter, Tamara and I followed the new trail for a few kilometers up the river to a swimming hole and had lunch there. I’ve never walked through as many spider webs as I did on the seldom used trail there.

My experience in Manabao was very amiable as well as La Cieniga and the national park. It was so good for my mental health to be in a secluded cabin in the woods for 5 days. The folks in that mountain town were the friendliest and helpful I’ve yet to meet, more than once farmers stopped with their livestock to pose for my photos. Tamara and I cooked some delicious food there as well since Jen’s cabin was well equipped with sharp knives, good pans, and a collection of seasonings which we added to. Most of the food that we brought from Tamara’s old house we either ate, or left there as a thanks to Jen for the use of such a great place. Here I experienced the coldest nights and hardest rains, while the brilliance of the green surroundings made my vision look like it was in the saturation setting on my camera.

Jarabacoa, Entrance to Dominican Alps

Jarabacoa, The Dominican Alps

Jarabacoa is a village in the central mountains in interior Dominican Republic. I travelled there with Tamara during Dominican’s vacation week called Semana Santa which concludes with Easter Sunday. The area is a popular place for wealthy Santo Domingo residents to build weekend homes because the elevation lends to a more convivial temperatures year round. During my stay the highs were consistently in the low 80’s without substantial humidity, while lows dipped to the low 60’s which made for some comfortable sleeping. In fact this was and still has been the only experience I’ve had in the Caribbean where sleeping without a fan (or seldom A/C) was desirable.

Having traveled to Jarabacoa prior to this visit, Tamara related to me in what capacity I was to become enamored with the location. We were loaded heavily with provisions that we had taken from Tamara’s house in San Francisco de Macoris, where we had recently vacated. That coupled with our luggage made any walking about town with belongings unmanageable. A hostel was already booked for us, so we just made the easiest choice for the hostel owners to come pick us up. Alternatively, another plan was to walk the town a little bit that morning and see what lodging we could find available.

At first glance, I was skeptical of the house. It did seem like a far drive from town to get there, and the house and yard looked tiny from the front. This feeling of a bad choice in hostel didn’t last long, the owner quickly took us on a tour of the inside and informed us gratefully that we were the only guests currently and would have the house alone for the weekend. Hot water, electricity, wood burning fire place, bicycle use, drinking water, local grown coffee, and internet will be considered substantial amenities for a DR rental at $18 per person per night. Tamara and I got settled quickly and met Eduardo; a Canadian whom was using the internet at Jarabacoa Mountain Hostel twice weekly for business. Our conversations centered on activities that Jarabacoa had to offer.

Town was a quick bicycle ride away, and it’s a small place so finding the park was easy. Jarabacoa’s central park offers crafts and more for sale, besides a comedor that Eddy had recommended. DeTillde’s is a house fronting the park turned into cafeteria style lunch place. The best Dominican food I have had yet was served me there. I received pork meatballs on white rice with a savory sauce, beans with sauce, a cabbage and tomato salad with vinaigrette dressing, and a super sweet glass of fresh squeezed orange juice. This meal was followed with a slice of Dominican Sheppard’s pie; seasoned ground beef topped with sweet ripened mashed plantains. The nice added benefit of eating a family establishment like this place is that it’s safe to leave your bicycles there while you walk to the grocery store.

The American owner of the hostel had written up some great directions for the nearby natural attractions as shortcuts attainable via bicycle. A wood fire in a fire place is really a novelty on an island in the Caribbean, and the cool night temperature made it really desirable and enjoyable. The box from the pizza we ordered that first night did little to light the rotty, dampish logs and neither did the napkins help much. The best fire starter in the house revealed itself as the roll of paper towels, the bamboo furniture being out of the question as a fuel source.

Tamara and I embarked on the trip to Salto de Jimenoa, one of two popular waterfalls created by rainwater runoff making its way from the central mountain region, through steep passes on its way to the Caribbean Sea. The falls, though not many kilometers from our hostel, lay high and beyond more than a few steep hills. The normal driving route to this waterfall took many more miles due to the lack of bridges over the river, yet our shortcut required us to carry our bikes over a fast, yet less than knee deep section of the flowing water. The route lead through some quite farms and neighborhoods. It being the start of Dominican Republic’s biggest holiday weekend, things were probably comparably loud for the area.

Reaching the falls protection area, we hiked over the suspension bridges up into the lower falls basin area. Gathered from information from Eddy, I knew that a trail was close to the termination from the main pathway that would lead us up over the top of the lower falls and to the base of the upper falls. The start of the trial looked no more than a goat path, and having to duck in to the start of the steep climb up no doubt discouraged many would-be users from the ascent through the forest. At times the trail follows a 4” irrigation pipe and skirts a cliff overlooking the rushing river far below for much of its length.

The forest opened to reveal a sandy beach fronting the pool at the base of the falls. Nobody else was at the falls when we got there, Tamara and I spread out our towels and commenced to enjoying books, snacks, and the cold fresh water. The pineapple was ripped into small chunks and set to soak in the rum for dessert. I took some worthy photos of the falls before we left to hike back down to the bicycles.

Another Peace Corps Volunteer named Jim joined us the following day for a hike of the closest high peak called Mogote. The trail took us from just over a thousand feet to a summit above 4,000 feet in a distance of about 1.5 miles. The trail started mellow with wide pathway through pine and deciduous forest, but then started straight up the mountain and turned into a washed out rutted track through thick brush over hard clay soil. Still wet from the prior afternoon’s showers, it was a steep and slippery climb. The trail afforded great views on the way and even into the next valley’s cities of Santiago and La Vega.

The top was not a sharp bit of stone, but a slowly slopped pasture cleared for grazing. A leaning observation tower occupied the top, but its door was closed and locked. We three hikers were greeted by a group of 9 or so farmers having their lunch and accompanying siesta. A far cry from a tranquil summit hour, we listened to the workers shout at one another in the usual conversational volume for Dominicans. Tamara told me a very funny joke that proved to be a statement of fact; the group would only be quite while stuffing their mouths. Aside from the workers and us hikers, the top was occupied by two mules, two dogs, four cows, a rooster, and some chickens with their chicks. I fed the chickens an almond or two and some mango skin. After the hike, Tamara and I went to our favorite restaurant in town, La Tinaja, for some great sandwiches and German beers.

I biked solo to the waterfall the next day and was hit on by two young Dominican women at the falls. They began by splashing me in the pool, carried on with pressing me into taking photos with them, and finished by talking to me in English about my girlfriend. In this way I discovered that it was not just the men of the country whom are aggressive in pursuit of the opposite sex. The older guy with their group attempted to steal my can of almonds while leaving the falls. I saw him from my position in the water, made my point that I wasn’t impressed, so he opened the can and took a handful before proceeding to eat them as he walked past me muttering something in Spanish.

At the hostel two other groups actually shared the house with us. A group of three guys from Santo Domingo partaking in Semana Santa parties for the second night, and a group of three young women traveling from Denmark for the last two nights. On the morning of the day we were departing the three girls joined Tamara and I at the Jimenoa waterfall, which made for my third time there. I really liked that waterfall and would have gone back for a fourth time should I have had the opportunity. Jarabacoa is great, it’s now my favorite place in the country. Besides the hiking and biking that I did, the place offers white water rafting, horseback riding, and atv trail riding. I think the weather, the village feel, and the smell of the pine trees are obvious attractions, but a more difficult thing to quantify is the laid back attitude of the residents.

Tamara Moves Out of Her House

Early this week was a big push to get things moved out of Tamara's house. Its not easy to motivate towards a moving day, even harder when its being planned while sitting on an excellent beach, and especially not easy when hot and sticky bus rides are involved. We said good bye to the Norwegians we met, we said good bye to the Canadians we met and Caberete to return to San Francisco de Macoris, the small city where she had been living since September 1st. Having finished the last of her volunteering projects the week prior, we could now focus on packing up and giving things away to prepare for our last four weeks in the country. These next weeks will be full of visiting other volunteers, a few famous natural features of the island and spending more time at the beach.

Now all packed up and the room cleaned it was time to take all the stuff to Santo Domingo, where the peace corps office it located. Our baggage now amounted to a suitcase, a duffel, a backpack, two daypacks, a camera bag, two computer bags, two boxes full of food, coffee, and tea, a bag of random things and two bags of books. There at the office, Tamara could donate books, clothing and other items to fellow volunteers whom could and did really appreciate the things. While Tamara was unpacking and organizing I found a flight that gets us back to Boston on Saturday morning ,May 21st. JetBlue leaves Santo Domingo at 2:05Am arrives New York for an hour stopover at 5:24Am before taking off for Boston and finally arriving there at 8:50Am.

The next adventure would take me up into the Dominican Alps to a village called Jarabacoa, where the focus was on hiking, biking, rafting, and horse back riding.

Caberete, Yo Lo Quiero!

That means Caberete, I Love It! A little vacation town on the North Coast of DR, this gem has the most consistent wind on the island and great beaches. Its known in the windsurfing/kitesurfing population worldwide as a precious destination for wind addicts. Early December I took a vacation here and experienced 5 consecutive days with no breeze. December isn't know to be a windy time there, so I took a little weekend trip there with Tamara recently, here's how it went.
Traveling with a surfboard doesn't condone itself to DR public transit's habit of putting two passengers in every seat, and I usually have to buy additional seats for my gear. We took the comfortable tour bus from the city, even though it takes a more roundabout path to the beach. At the end of the line, we crammed body and gear into a public car for a 25 kilometer drive that took an hour from all the stopping we did. Over three hours travel in total but at a reasonable total under $10. Arriving at Hotel Alegria, same place we stayed in December because it is on the beach, has kitchens, and costs under $50 a night.
A morning of clouds and rain showers gave in to a hot sunny day with winds in the upper teens! I unleashed the new surfboard for a virgin run in the 88 degree turquoise salt water. Under my newest (and freshest graphics) kite Naish Torch 12M I was moving fast over the medium chop inside Caberete's outer reef. The beach was a kaleidoscope of kites, around 75 kites were in the air, still the most I've seen at once. The new North Whip board was feeling good under my feet, solid in turns and quick to accelerate. I moved out far from the beach to play in the waves breaking over a deep reef that protects the bay. Catching waves with a kite is one of the most fun things i've done yet and makes tiring and fun filled hours feel like minutes.
After a second sunset session that night we went brought two pizzas back to the room. Cable TV, pizza, and white wine was just what I wanted.
Yes! More wind the next day! This time no clouds even at 9:00 so just after some delic. omletes we got a little morning reading on the sand. I really like cooking on vacation because you know you can be full and happy from good food and not get ripped off. So again, lunch at the room was turkey sandwiches along with chips and salsa following Presidente Grande. The kiting was as good or better this afternoon and I kited by a sea turtle twice. Its very amusing with what speed and personality they dive under as soon as they spot you boarding near them. Back on the beach, a fellow kiter asked me about my kite with interest. After a little back and forth about the price during the next day we came to an agreement and I sold it. Yes, I sold it :( Time to shop for new one :)
That concluded the wind for the trip, but I still had another day and half on the beautiful beach. Kayaking, reading, swimming and shopping is how you can spend time there with no wind; and don't forget rum drinking. I guess I didn't want to leave because Tamara and I started planning our next trip there which could be any weekend now. Ha!
On the bus back to San Fran across the aisle sat two Jehovah's Witnesses. They were part of a group of 25 from California on a mission to reach out to deaf and dumb Dominicans. It was entertaining talking to them since they were signing everything they said with there hands. In the only way I can identify their specific religion I said "so you guys are the ones who believe the end of the world is coming really soon?" They did respond to that, it was funny but not funny enough to quote. The end.

Manzanillo and Back

Hey readers, just planted the backpack and kiteboard for a few days back here in San Francisco de Macoris. This past weekend Tamara and I set our sights on Monte Cristi, a far flung fishing village on the North Coast of DR. To get there, we traveled to and stayed in Santiago. This city is the largest of the Cibao valley region and has the second largest population of the country. Its most notable for the large and recent hilltop monument.

A guagua (bus) took us further North and West to Monte Cristi where we took a motorcycle through town and to the Playa Moro. The ride was scenic, but uncomfortable as Tamara and I rode on the same bike with the driver. She had her backpack and purse, I was wearing my kite and camera on my back and holding my kiteboard. These moments really need a photo to tell the story but everyone is too hot and cramped to be patient enough for a pose like that.

Moro is essentially a beach cut into the inside of a crumbling mountain. We hiked first to the top of the lookout. A beautiful day spread out over the North Atlantic and clear views of the reefs in the warm ocean water below us. Even a short hike like this is not advisable in the mid-day sun, but to us it was just more anticipation to taking a swim from the deserted beach below.

Once down on the sand,it really was our beach for the day. Only a group of four was there before us, but they were huddling in the shade under the small overhang in the base of the cliff. Generally Dominicans do not sunbathe, they avoid the sun as much as possible including enjoying the shade at the beach. At this moment I still can't think of words to cleverly describe the fortune that I was feeling at being so alone with Tamara in a place of such beauty. I didn't waste any time, just kicked off the shoes and ran into the calm sea.

This semi-circular beach was just too good to see only from the sand, so I took to the water with my goggles. I had noticed the bottom characteristics from the cliff above, and was aiming to swim over some of the reef and see what kinds of fish were there. I was pretty happy with what I found, a scattering of reef features about 8 feet high in 10 to 12 feet of water with a sand bottom. Further away from the shore was where the 14 foot reef shelf began. It was the healthiest I have seen anywhere on the island, brightly colored although a little sparse of fish. The short swim took me about an hour because I was breath holding and diving around the edges of the reef to explore along my way.

A motorcycle ride, bus, and another motorcycle and we reached Manzanillo. This is the site of a Peace Corps Volunteer named Arya, friend of Tamara and mine. We shared a big beer atop his room at sunset before strolling into town to get the tour. Manzanillo is a shipping port, and so I learned the town is used to seeing Extranjeros (foreigners) as a result I got fewer stares than usual. At the market we picked up some sandwich fixings to make some grilled cheeses and tuna melts. Arya is a bass player, and so we spent time talking about music and Arya filled a flash drive with music for me to take away and load onto my computer.Next stop Punta Rucia because it had a favorable wind forecast days before and I was desperate for some kiteboarding. To get there; motorcycle ride, bus ride, motorcycle ride. The last motorcycle ride was almost forty-five minutes and Tamara were covered head to toe in fine brown dust. First impression of the town; depressed, what had happened here? A lot of tourist ready places were closed or vacacant, and there was only one or two hotels. After check-in at La Tortuga (The Turtle) we hit the beach and I blew up my kite (finally!). The wind increased as soon as my gear was ready so I hit the water. The conditions were gusty but the quality of the spot made up for what consistency the wind was lacking.

The wind started wailing! I began thinking I should have brought a smaller kite. Tamara and I moved farther down the beach, sitting on ours felt like a sandstorm. The wind lightened a bit and I got a second session of the day. After asking a local for dinner advice, we made the 2K walk up to Playa Ensenada. On a Sunday this beach was full of Dominicans and it was a party scene. Tamara and I ordered parrot fish from one of the vendors. It came marinated and fried whole with batatas (like home fries) and salad. Tough to eat a whole fish in the dark with just two plastic forks but it was delicious.

The morning meant a search for somewhere that was open and willing to make us breakfast. Karen's beach shack made a couple omelets, and later we had to hike up a hill on the road outside town to get cell reception. Tamara made the call for a reservation for that night back in Santiago. Among other things, the hotel continued to turn the water off to our room. I had already made progress in the acceptance of the local's gross inefficiency, but until Tortuga hadn't experienced such unwillingness to be helpful when given the chance.

I got two more kiting sessions in that day before our scheduled motorbike ride to the bus stop on the highway. The driver we had talked with earlier showed up forty-five minutes late and drunk. We got a ride from some guys in a pickup truck to a town where we could get a bus back to Santiago. It was a different way to get back, but turned out to be better scenery and a shorter distance. The hotel had some great chicken soup for dinner and the rain in the night helped for sleeping. In the morning we caught the bus for San Francisco and were back to Tamara's house by 11:00. Plenty of time for lunch and to get a nap before we had to teach class at 2:30. Next weekend to Caberete!