Jarabacoa, Dominican Republic

Jarabacoa is the Dominican Republic’s outdoor capital, and it was an adventure before we even arrived. We left Barahona on the 9:30am guagua to Santo Domingo, thinking we’d be there in plenty of time for a 1:30pm bus to Jarabacoa.

After what should have been a 2.5 hour ride (at most), we arrived at 1:40, and, while stuck in traffic, watched the Caribe Tours bus pull out of the station, turn the corner, and drive away. It was a frustrating moment, as it meant we had 3 hours to waste in a bus station, and we’d be arriving in Jarabacoa after dark.

While our bus was first class, our hotel in Jarabacoa was not. The bedding looked like it had seen some fun nights, the room showed evidence of roommates (the four-legged variety), the toilet seat was missing, and the shower was missing its head. But there was hot water! And the room was cheap, so we were sold. Since we pack our own food, we decided to take some precautions against any potential rodentary friends by hanging our food from the ceiling in classical bear-food-locker fashion. We were surprised the next day to find ants had made their way into our grocery bag by crawling down the string that hung it.

Our "bear trap" food safety precautions

For our first day in Jarabacoa, we decided to hire a moto to take us up to the nearby waterfalls. Salto Jimenoa Uno, is the biggest and most impressive, and was used in the movie Jurassic Park.

We also hiked to Salto de Jimenoa Dos, which was slightly smaller, but still neat to see.

We were back in town at the Parque Central for lunch, where we met up with Antonio, a local who had helped us find our accommodations the night before. He talked us into paragliding for the next day, and thought we could spend the rest of that day hiking up to El Mogote. So we took his advice, hopped on the back of his moto and headed out.

Antonio assured us we could get to the peak and be down within 5 hours. We trusted him. We set out at 2, and after about an hour the path became virtually impassible. The hike became a crawl, and at many parts a scramble. It was steep, and slippery from clay. We continued on for another hour and a half, anxious to see the splendid views we were promised.

By the time we reached the peak of the first mountain, we realized we had to turn back, or else struggle down the mountain in darkness. We were happy to be able to see the back side of the mountain, though we never crossed the ridge to reach the peak of El Mogote. At 4:15 we turned back, and slipped and slid our way down to the bottom.

Exhausted, we were happy to get off the mountain at 6pm, with just enough daylight left to find dinner and ice cream. In keeping with out budget traveling, we made a stop at the grocery store to pick up breakfast for the next day (we splurged on granola and yogurt, yum yum!), where we were surprised by a breast-feeding check-out lady letting it all hang out (no pictures of that, sorry).

We were up early on Friday for paragliding, and were at the bus station to meet Antonio by 9am. No Antonio. We waited, thinking he may have said 9:30, but still no Antonio. Then the fears started to enter our heads. Why had we given this man RD$4000 (roughly $50 USD) as a deposit, when we hardly knew him? We asked some of his fellow moto-drivers to call, but to no avail. 10:00am rolled around, still no Antonio, and we started to think of some recourse. But after about 10 minutes of plotting, Antonio’s brother showed up! Followed shortly by Antonio.

 

They rushed us into the hills, along with a young traveling couple (from NYC and Denmark), and found a nice cliff off of which to jump. The clouds were encroaching, but we thought they’d burn off quickly, so we let the other couple go first. Both jumped with little trouble. I say jumped, but really you just run off the cliff as the parachute catches wind behind you, slowly lifting you into the air.

In the back of the truck, heading up the hill.

Antonio following behind on his moto.

Juan, one of the pilots, gearing up.

This was a last minute decision, and she was wearing flip flops... so, her boyfriend had grabbed a pair of socks for her to put over her sandals! Was a good look!

Antonio and Abra

There were only 2 ‘chutes, so we had to wait for them to land, and be re-delivered. As we waited, the clouds started to encroach, and by the time the trucks arrived, we couldn’t see anything. And so we waited. We must have waited for about 2 hours before the clouds finally blew away.

And so we waited...

And tried to make fires...

(sorry for the B&W/Color Accent video! Somehow changed it to that and can't get it back to normal!)

Abra was the first to go. She started running, and while they weren’t quite up in the air when she ran out off ground, they just continued running about 10 feet down the hill, and took off with minimal problem. She did manage to lose her shoe on take-off as the pilot stepped on her heal, but all’s well that end’s well.

 

Now it was just Juan and me left. The clouds were gone, and the conditions perfect. Except we were missing some much needed wind for take off. You see, the wind helps inflate the parachute behind you, giving it lift, and the strength to pick up your weight. Without the wind, you’re reliant on what wind you can generate by running. So we waited some more.

And finally, impatiently, Juan declared that we will try to take off anyway, and that if the ‘chute doesn’t inflate enough, he’ll tell me to stop, and we’ll set up again. Well we didn’t have to stop, but I can’t say I’m sure it inflated enough. We had to run half-way down the hill, through thickets and bushes, before our parachute had enough lift to pick us up off the ground. I managed to capture it on video, though with all the commotion, I wasn’t able to aim too well.

Once in the air, it was calm and peaceful. I have skydived before, and it was much like that, without the adrenalin-filled free fall part, just the relaxing gliding part. I managed to take a bunch of pictures of myself, and the surroundings.

Now, Juan had instructed me on how to take off. Quite thoroughly, in fact. The difficulty was more a product of the conditions than my inability. He left the ‘How to Land’ instructions to moments before impact. When I heard ‘Stand up!’ instead of ‘Legs up!’ I did just that. I thought we’d come in for a running landing. Instead, we slammed into the ground, with my right leg taking most of the impact.

           

Neither Juan nor I got remotely injured in the landing, though he managed a foot-long rip in his pants. The soft, high grass we landed in surely helped a bit.

After landing, Antonio and I took the moto back up the hill to retrieve Abra’s shoe (I had forgotten to pick it up before I took off). Then Antonio drove us to Parque Central in town. We took a few pictures, found internet, and cleaned up, before going out to the bars with Antonio.

                       

Hans getting harassed by 5 kids, all wanting to clean his shoes.

We met Antonio at Central Park at 8:30, which was too early for the bar scene. So first we sat around watching some local teenagers do some pretty impressive break dancing in the park’s gazebo. Then, Antonio drove us around to several bars, none of which were happening. But you could tell the party just hadn’t started yet, it was too early, and the clubs were empty as the streets were still full.

After Antonio went home for the night, Abra and I decided to spend our money on food instead of beer, and got ourselves a hot dog and ‘hamburger’ from Joe, an ex-pat from New Jersey, and a gyro from a Turkish ex-pat. Delicious! We called it at midnight.

Saturday was a travel day, but since it wasn't a long ride, we decided to spend the morning searching for breakfast, and some awesome watches we had seen so many Dominicans wearing. We found the watches, and some bread to eat. Job was done.

We were on a gua-gua by noon, not realizing it was 5-connections to the relatively close coastal town of Puerta Plata. We arrived by 4pm, and started wondering around in search of a hotel. Fortunately, we met Jacques from Haiti, who brought us to a hotel for just 300 pesos per night! It was clean, although the room looked like it was just treated to a thick coat of white paint. Who knows the disaster it covered up underneath.

The stairs were steep, uneven and crickety, and the upstairs floor was uneven, bowing, and full of holes. We weren't sure if our balcony could support our weight, and when we went to bed that night, I'm pretty sure I was being eaten alive by bed bugs. But hey, it's cheap! (Heard that before?) 

View from our balcony.

 

The communal living room for the more long term guests.

Down the hallway. Not meant for anyone over 200lbs.

Also, the hotel has a bar downstairs, and they promised they'd play the Seahawks game the next day.

Abra and I slept in on Sunday, as we had had a long night. We were out the door by 10, and walked around sleepy Puerto Plata. We walked to the beach, down the Malecon, and to Fort San Felipe. We climbed the lighthouse for pictures, then walked around the city before stopping at the DR's version of Walmart to buy lunch and breakfast for tomorrow. By 2pm we were back at the hotel for Seahawks vs. Bears! Woot woot! I watched the game with Big Lee, a huge Bears fan from Chicago (he lives here now).

Hans and Lee watching the game. Lee's from Chicago, but lives in Puerto Plata now, retired, and livin' the life!

The Bears won, but lots of beer was drank, and all had a good time.

Posted by Hans