We expect to be here in Luperon, Dominican Republic for a few days. We are loving it. Great harbor, wonderful people, good prices. Even if the wind dies down or changes direction, we can't leave NOW! Baseball tomorrow: Dominicans against cruisers. Word is the cruisers have no chance; I'm not surprised, DR is a small country from which the US major leagues recruit numerous stars. However, now the cruisers have a secret weapon: me. Yea, right, that should make a difference. What does make a difference is the rule about who buys the drinks. If the winners buy, the gringos usually win by one run. If the losers buy, the gringos usually lose by about 50 runs.
Jam session Sunday afternoon: someone may even be able to produce a drum kit.
This place has that rare combination: lots of soul, but one still feels safe.
"Big Benjamin" (yes, big, tough looking, gun toting) represents the navy and drug enforcement. After we had completed all of our check in stuff at the local government offices, Big Benjamin sternly accosted me, explaining that we should not have left the boat before the navy inspected us. I pointed out that we flew our "Q" flag and waited to be boarded, but no one showed. Then, at his request, we took Big Benjamin and his young uniformed assistant back to ACTIII aboard OUR dinghy. The "inspection" consisted of sitting in the cockpit, sipping cold drinks, asking if we had firearms aboard, and discussing this and that. BB again mentioned that we should not have gone ashore without being boarded first, but it was "no problemo". Then I got the lecture about how the navy was keeping us safe out there, and all for free. I suspected that he was blowing smoke and angeling for a big tip, so I innocently asked how he could have boarded us if he didn't have a boat. He admitted that was a problem, and, besides, he had heard that we had arrived, but he had fallen asleep when he might have been arranging for a boat, and then it was too late. I gave a VERY small donation to the navy, and I took them back to shore. By then we were best buddies. You have to love a port where everybody, rich or poor has some kind of boat, except the navy.
One can get anything done here with the help of "Handy Andy". He and his partner Papo ( my soul mate, as all old Latins seem to be) delivered high quality diesel to our boat at a reasonable price. Papo arranged for a taxi to take us to Santiago to buy a portable generator to replace the unreliable one that we gave to a very grateful Hatian captain of a homemade sailboat that we saw in Matthew Town. ( Sailing these crude engine-less craft across 90 nautical miles of the Windward Passage, and then docking them in an impossible basin that none of the cruisers dare enter, using nothing but poles for the last few yards, is a feat of seamanship I truly admire. The Captain was a smart, genuine guy. No pretensions and no deference. We liked him immediately. I hope he has that generator purring. ) Anyway, Handy Andy is a former New York male stripper. He proudly carries a picture on his cell phone. If a woman cruiser hires him to clean the bottom of her boat, he changes his clothes in the cockpit. One old broad said she asked Handy to come out to her boat to scrub the bottom, and after he changed, she changed her mind, just so he had to change back out of his speedo. We heard the same story from her and from Andy.
Most of the cruisers we have met here arrived some summer years ago to hole up for hurricane season, and they never left. It is that kind of place.
From Heidi:
Backtracking a bit, we stayed 4 days off Matthew Town, Great Inagua, Bahamas, the southernmost island before one heads southwest to Cuba or southeast to Haiti and Dominican Republic. Matthew Town is a "company" town, with Morton salt evaporating and exporting a million tons of crude salt. We joined another cruising family who arrived aboard their 62' aluminum catamaran, Elcie, for a tour of the salt ponds and Great Inagua National Park, home to the world's largest breeding colony of West Indian flamingos: about 50,000 birds that have made a 40 year journey back from the edge of extinction. They love to dine on the brine shrimp that flourish in the salt ponds.
We neared Luperon DR as dawn broke the second morning after we left Inagua, and we first sighted the mountains of Dominican Republic, far different from the low-lying cays and islands in Bahamas. Next we got an intense aroma of rich soil and vegetation from many miles offshore. The harbor is well-protected and calm, a welcome relief from the several weeks we'd just spent exposed to winds and surge at anchor.
The drive to Santiago was worth the taxi fare, whether we succeeded in finding a generator or not (we did). As we drove up and down hills away from the coast at breakneck speeds, we passed a zillion motorcycles, tractor-trailer trucks, cows, bicycles, goats, and men riding along the road on donkeys while talking on their cell phones. Laundry dried in the sun everywhere, without benefit of clothespins; clothing hung on barbed wire tends to stay put although perhaps harsh on the fabric. In a whirlwind deal at a traffic light in the busy city I bought 6 pinas (pineapple) for $2.75 from a fruit peddler who just started tossing them beside me through the back window; I'm sure I overpaid as he walked away high-fiving his amigos, but that's what gringoes are for.
The ball game? Bill pitched and fielded respectably, and wisely took himself out of the game after a few innings. The mid-day sun and heat were brutal and there were plenty of williing substitutes--the Dominicans love to play and are happy on either team.
Big Benjamin came aboard today for our check out "inspection". Once again we drank cold sodas in the cockpit while he filled out the paper work, and once again he didn't need to go below to complete his inspection for weapons and drugs. He allowed that the idea that we might be smuggling drugs was pretty funny. "At your age? In this nice boat from NH, USA..ha ha ha." Of course he is right, but should we be insulted that we fit his stereotype so closely?
Departing for our next anchorage along the DR north coast this evening. Then another day or two or three or... depending on weather to our final DR port, Samana. We'll wait there for a weather window to go through the Mona Passage between the DR and Puerto Rico so we can have an easy trip on the south (Caribbean) side of PR. It could be a couple of weeks before we have internet again. Until then, smooth sailing, literally and figuratively, friends. And don't forget, we love it when you post comments on our blog.
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