Experience the trek of
distinctive landscape, virtually untouched by tourism, to
the highest mountain in the Caribbean, Pico Duarte. In the
heart of the Cordillera Central region of the Dominican
Republic, stunning vistas await your arrival.
A 3-day trek with pack
mules will take you 3,175 meters above sea level through
lush rain forests laden with giant fronds, rooted banyon
trees, and villagers pounding coffee, washing clothes, and
driving teams of enormous oxen. These dense tropical
forests are also home to such rare birds as the
Hispaņiolan Parrot, Hispaņiolan Woodpecker, White-necked
Crow, Hispaņiolan Trogon, the Red-tailed Hawk, wild boar,
and 47 reported amphibians and reptiles.
Twelve major rivers rush
through this glorious landscape, including the two largest
rivers in the Caribbean.
Although less than two
hours from Miami and in the very heart of the Caribbean,
the summit of Pico Duarte is often covered with frost and
is not uncommon in the winter months to reach temperatures
of 18 F or -8 C.
For those who accept the
challenge and make this spectacular adventure to the
pinnacle of Pico Duarte, the reward is truly
unforgettable, as you discover the undiscovered.
Exploration in this exotically stunning landscape is all
about discovering yourself.
Organized Tour ($299 U.S. per
person all included)
In this tour, we will
provide two night’s stay at Rancho Wendy with breakfast,
all transportation, camping equipment, food, guides,
mules, and park entry fee.
4 Days, 3nights - Off Road
Price $ 249.00US per person, includes accommodations,
breakfast, lunch, and evening meal, Bike and guide.
Round trip airport transportation, Santiago airport.
Dates: open 2004 open 2005
Day 1:
This trip begins with First day arrive at the
ranch explore Los Quemados a small town, located in
the central mountains, get acquainted with ranch and fellow travelers. Then
a short bike ride, waterfront dinner, BBQ, and campfire.
Then bed down at your waterfront campsite, or in your
own private room.
Day
2:
Breakfast and
then start your breath-taking off-road biking
trip to El Chorro (this track includes crossing
this river 14 times!). You will have plenty of
time to stop, have your lunch and take many dips.
Then continue to the town of Bonao. Tour our city
of Bonao, and then head back to the ranch for,
volleyball, water front dinner and campfire. Then
bed down at your waterfront campsite, or in your
own private room.
Day 3
Breakfast and then start your breath-taking hiking
trip.
Lunch will be served. Swimming at Charco Bonito.
Return to ranch for your waterfront Dinner, campfire,
dancing, and swimming.
Then bed down at your waterfront campsite, or in
your own private room.
In Search of Charco Bonito
The magic of the forest lies in its infinite promise
of discovery. Above, below, and all around, one's
senses are electrified by this mysterious enclosed
world. It was only 2 hours I spent in the Central
Mountain forests near Bonao, Dominican Republic,
but I emerged exhausted due to a complete sensory
overload.
We set off in search of Charco Bonito, a waterfall
in the thickly forested valleys beyond Los Quemados.
Before anything else, we had to negotiate the crossing
of the wide, fast flowing Rio Yuma. Although the
water only reached up to my kneecaps, its deceptive
currents made me sway like a staggering drunk, much
to the mirth of some kids on the bank. So with dignity
slightly impaired, we began to step steeply into
the forest.
As climates go, few are as hospitable year round
as this one. Every crop, fruit and root worth growing
simply thrives here. As a result the mountain absorbs
you with the sweet fragrance of life; fruits maturing
and flowers blossoming. Birds and insects grow heady
feasting on fallen pods of cacao. While walking
we are able to gather succulent guava or chinola
fruit almost bursting the branches with their goodness.
Although the sun is directly above the canopy, the
dewy leaves keep us constantly refreshed as we brush
against them.
For a good 20 minutes we can hear the churning of
Charco Bonito in the distance, yet its location
is so well concealed one could easily miss it. Through
ever thickening vegetation we are drawn frantically
like starving children towards the water source.
And when we arrive no one is disappointed. Charco
Bonito turns out to lie in a wonderful clandestine
glade, an enchanting respite from the claustrophobia
of the forest
5
Days, 4nights - Off Road
Price $ 329.00US per person, includes
accommodations, breakfast, lunch, and evening meal,
Bike and guide.
Round trip airport transportation,
Santiago airport.
Return to ranch for your waterfront Dinner, campfire,
dancing, and swimming.
Then bed down at your waterfront campsite, or
in your own private room.
.
Day
4:
Breakfast and then
start your breath-taking tour to the Village of
the Dam you jump into the jeep and off-you go up
our road to the village of the dams. You then
start your hiking to adventure.
The dramatic views
along this stretch will be inspiring, as we wind
our way along the range before plunging down to
our river destination. You will have plenty of
time to stop, have your lunch and take many dips.
Then head back to the ranch for, volleyball, water
front dinner and campfire. Then bed down at your
waterfront campsite, or in your own private room.
Wild Times in the Village of the Dam
Exploring the Dominican Campo
Dams so fine you'd think Mother Nature made 'em
A wise sage once remarked that it was better to
travel than to arrive. This thought held me as
I set off on a trek to a trio of man-made dams
around Rio Blanco, a mountain village near Bonao,
for I had never felt the romance of dam-spotting.
The road up to Rio Blanco was full of weird and
wonderful distractions, just as well because the
grueling two-hour hike made my legs feel like
they'd been fed through a rolling machine. Precious
little traffic allows me to appreciate the hummingbirds
busy at work in the morning shade, and to enjoy
the dazzling surroundings.
A conveyor belt of local characters drift past
me in all manner of guises and thrift store clothes.
A little blonde albino girl cutting guavas with
a machete. A pair of wild-eyed identical twins
with barely a tooth between them. A skinny gentleman
whose dangling pipe and candy striped jacket give
him the strange air of an extra from a British
seaside movie. It's all very exhilarating until
I'm stopped by a woman with short curly hair and
a steady neurotic stare. We exchange a few pleasantries
then she starts to play with me.
"I had a few problems with a boy once…
I smashed him up with a stick….. do you
think that's bad?"
"Well…. I don't really know the reasons
why you did it.."
"So I could crush him up and drink him like
fruit juice"
Terrified I bound on trying not to look like I'm
running, hoping for some sign of human life around
the corner.
For much of the time though it is head down and
grit out the steeply zigzagging trail. Around
every scenic corner in the road a new waterfall
appears giving me refreshment and willpower to
plough on. I collapse ungracefully upon finally
reaching the center of Blanco, ready to be swept
away by the broom of a local housemaid.
In true Dominican style, community life in and
around Blanco unfolds out on the street. This
gives the strange passing foreigner a rare privilege
of seeing and joining in the timeless pastimes
of the campo, such as the drying of coffee and
cacao out on the doorstep.
The innate friendliness of the locals will soon
shine through their initial surprise at seeing
a stranger in this little visited area. It is
enchanting to see little brown bodies splashing
and laughing under roadside waterfalls. Or to
receive a wave from beautifully preserved old
man rocking away on the porch of his powder blue
wooden shack.
The pastel colors of the houses and the vibrant
wildflowers perfectly compliment the deep green
backdrop. Indeed the landscape appears largely
unaffected by the introduction of the dams fifteen
years ago. An old timer, Heladio, accompanies
me for the final stretch, and explains that before
construction began, the road to from here to Bonao
was a mere mule trail. A 77 year old farmer, he
recalls how the French owned dams have brought
more commerce to the region, as well as creating
jobs for the local people.
The three dams turn out to be strikingly different
in character. Of course it is impressive how such
an ambitious project was undertaken in an area
of such awkward accessibility. But what surprised
me more was the physical beauty of the reservoirs.
Standing atop Presa Arroyo and gazing
into the emerald waters of the flooded valley,
I felt that the view rivaled any of Mother Nature's
work in the Dominican Republic. To arrive here,
though jaded and delirious after hours of strenuous
walking, was just as rewarding as the journey.
I walked back with Heladio and told him how happy
and surprised I was to find the dams to be so
picturesque. Whether he thought I was crazy or
not, his knowing smile put me at peace. In front
of us a small boy was trying with difficulty to
shepherd a pair of piglets. A scene of delightful
rural serenity. "My great grandson",
murmured Heladio, beaming at the boy. It could
easily have been him, seventy years previously,
or a moment from countless generations before
that. I hitched a ride with a choking truck back
to Bonao, although it might as well have been
a time machine taking me back into the twenty
first century.
Day 5.
Breakfast and then
start your breath-taking tour to many country Villages,
you jump on your bikes
and
off-you go on your adventure.
In true Dominican style, community life in and around
these villages unfolds out on the street. This gives the strange passing
foreigner a rare privilege of seeing and joining in the timeless pastimes of the
campo, such as the drying of coffee and cacao out on the doorstep.
7
Days, 6 nights - Off Road
Price $ 409.00 US per person, includes accommodations,
breakfast, lunch, and evening meal, Bike and guide.
Round trip airport transportation, Santiago airport.
Return to ranch for your waterfront Dinner, campfire,
dancing, and swimming.
Then bed down at your waterfront campsite, or in
your own private room.
Day 6,7.
Breakfast then start on your tour to the Taino
cave, there you will camp out at the cave,
The Taino Indians were the original inhabitants
of the Dominican Republic.
VISIONS OF QUISQUEYA
It first struck me as I gazed from the window
of the plane. The island below, small and innocuous
on the in-flight map, immediately came alive with
the sharp contours of her mountainous terrain.
Little huts and smallholdings, daubed in exotic
shades of blue and pink, appeared like tiny pinheads
on a map - and I felt a rush of excitement that
this island still belonged to nature. In that
split second a craving for adventure was instilled
- I could not wait to plunge into the mysteries
of those jagged emerald ridges and the plummeting
gorges, almost black in the shadows. The stately
name of "Dominican Republic" seemed
a little inappropriate to describe what I saw.
This imposing sight was more evocative of
Quisqueya,
the name by which the Taino Indians had known
the island before the Spanish took it from them.
Seizing my first chance to get off the highway,
I found myself in the sparse Cordillera Central
west of Bonao. I had literally reached the end
of the road - the last hurricane had torn it away
to leave a knife-edge precipice. From there a
mule track led us up into the hills. We were in
search of a cave several hours away containing
Taino art.
To begin with we ascended a zigzagging trail through
shaded pine forest. To breathe the delicious fragrance
of these altitudes is like stepping into a different
world from the musky aromas of the tropical maritime
climate of the coast. Pine, orange, limoncillo,
and eucalyptus - it's a heady cocktail and one
that I took in until my lungs were ready to burst.
Once you get to above 2500 meters, the temperature
is either hot or cold, with little midground.
During our ascent onto the ridge, the cloudy skies
favored us, but on arriving at the top the prickly
heat of the sun made itself known. The mid-morning
sun fell gloriously upon the lost valleys. In
the spring the leaves of the omnipresent Framboyan
tree turn a deep, vivid orange. Local belief has
it that this timely occurrence is to remind Christians
of the blood shed by Jesus Christ at this
time. The effect is a unique spectacle as the
mountains are banded by floral stripes the color
of orange bell peppers.
So the path rises and drops over one of those
pristine emerald ridges i'd seen from the window
of the plane. I learned later that going up is
the easy part, so it pays to drink up the endless
mountain vistas while you can. Breaking the piercing
silence, my companion began recounting the myths
that the people of the area still adhere to. About
the benevolent and malevolent Indian spirits who
roam the hills. Precious little must have changed
since this area was first settled more than five
hundred years ago by desperate Tainos fleeing
the bitter backlash of Columbus' initially peaceful
overtures. World and Dominican history has traditionally
made it understood that the Tainos were all but
exterminated by brutal repression. However, in
recent years, genetic tests have showed that the
number of those who resisted the genocide was
much higher than earlier thought. No Spaniard
in his right mind would have followed the runaways
into these parts. So it was that runaway communities
made this difficult terrain there new home, farming
the steep slopes in their timeless way. For a
group supposedly extinct 100 years after the discovery
of Hispaniola, their influence remains a profound
and proud one on the language, culture and identity
of Dominicans today.
We arrive drained at the cave, a strange and giant
boulder that juts out of the mountainside in a
worrying insecure fashion. On the vast shadowed
flipside are some impressive carvings in remarkable
condition. Taino art styles have become a particular
favorite of mine. Known for their communal use
of hallucinogenic plants, the Taino artists were
clearly more into impressionism than realism.
The favorite subjects here is the head, with a
kaleidoscope of facial expressions from deeply
tortured to deeply narcotized.
And onwards the mountain trails lead, crossing
streams and winding through valleys. It would
be a nice place to camp. But we decided, with
leaden legs and empty stomachs, to head back to
Blanco.
Going down was another story. A battle not to
slip on your ass along trails littered with dry,
loose gravel. Comedy tumbles are frequent, with
arms searching for balance in an exaggerated windmill
style. At times it is pretty edgy, those dark shadows
beneath seem to have no definite end to them.
Bringing a rather black sense of humor to our
plight, my companion leads us past a gravestone
poised dramatically on a cliff edge at a sharp
corner of the trail.
"A man riding home drunk one night... he
never made it," my guide informs. Awed by
this image of the mountain taking the life of
the drunken horseman I fall into silent reverence
for the rest of the descent.
These remote hills remain an untouched monument,
a ghostly museum of the Taino race. For us today
it is peaceful - the pleasing whisper of the long
grass and the hush of distant waterfalls desperately
crashing to the valley floor. But close your eyes
and it is easy to see this place strike an eerie
terror into the heart on a less welcoming day.
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