Scrabblebiker Does the Dominican Republic

Scrabblebiker

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Mar 1, 2014
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Hola Amigos,

So here it is. The long awaited newest edition of what the Scrabblebiker is up to these days ...aside from being full of herself and not realizing that most of the world doesn't know, nor cares, what a Scrabblebiker is anyway.

If you're looking for pictures, I won't be posting them here to cut down on online time. My blog at www.scrabblebiker.com is the place to go for that. Be patient as it slowly gets updated between bottles of Presidente and Barcelo rum.

Day 2 and 3 (day one has no DR content and I won't bore you with it)

I made it to Santiago safe and sound, accompanied by a round of applause and loud cheers by the other passengers. I'm doing this a bit in a luxury way and my pre-arranged cab driver was waiting for me with a sign. It was a pleasant drive through the mountains on a winding road through village after village. Cesar, the driver was a breath of fresh air. He was very cautious and professional on the road and never got my blood pressure up beyond its' normal high level.

I'm now sitting at the Cabarerete Surf Camp "Hostel", having a massive Presidente. It's amazingly relaxing and tears are welling up in my eyes realizing how stressed I really had been so far.

I finally scored myself a ride. Josef at Easy-Rider Cabarete let me try out a couple of bikes by just handing me the keys for a spin. No deposit, nothing. I suppose that's another benefit of being a middle aged female, or maybe he knows that a tourist probably won't get very far on a stolen bike on an island. I hadn't ridden a bike without a helmet since the US southwest in 2010. It was liberating, exhilarating, annoying and scary all at the same time.

So here's how it went. I took out an Indian made RTR road bike and loved it. When I parked I realized I was too close to the bike to my left. No matter how much experience I have, it never ceases to amaze me how I ignore my own advice and how often I do stupid things. Instead of repositioning the bike I decided to dismount to the right. A short sizzle against my bare leg made me realize that I sometimes leave my judgement at home. But, a little second degree burn didn't stop me from taking out a DT125, which I also loved. Not being able to make up my mind I went for a walk and a cuba libre by the beach to weigh the pros and cons, the second degree burn could wait. That's when I realized that the off road machine is the way to go.

My right leg still stinging from the burn, I informed Josef of my decision and he asked me to come back in 45 minutes. This was perfect since I needed to go to a pharmacy for my burn anyway. The Pharmacy was closed but I remembered seeing an urgent care centre earlier in the day. After all, why the heck would I spend money on travel insurance and then not use it? besides, this is the tropics and infections do happen.

As soon as I told the clinic staff that I burnt my leg they all smiled and chuckled and asked "moto?". They cheerfully informed me that this was called a Dominican tattoo. I couldn't help but laugh. The clinic was clean and modern and the young Senora Doctora took good care of me and sent me on my way with a bag full of medications, bandages, salves and instructions. My request for a Barcelo pain killer was denied. But she did pump me full of antibiotics.

Back to Easy Rider Cabarete to pick up the bike. I was ready to put up an argument for not leaving my passport or first born behind as collateral. Josef just wanted a photocopy of my passport, which I carry around anyway, and he had no interest in the laminated colour copy of my driver's licence. Then I counted out a stack of Pesos to pay for the rental and that was it ...aside from telling me at least three times how to make a proper left turn in the DR. Better safe than sorry.

As if that wasn't funny enough. I took the bike for a spin, with my own helmet from home this time, and it sputtered to a stop just east of Cabarete. I was cursing Josef for not telling me that the tank was empty. Well, he probably did and I wasn't paying attention. A nice shopkeeper pointed me to a nearby gas station and I pushed the bike for a fillup. The attendant and a few other moto riders had a good chuckle while explaining that the bike has a reserve and all I had to do was switch it over. It made me laugh since I actually should know this. But habit is a strange creature, one which only remembered how my own bike functions.

Off I roared to the east and the bike once more sputtered to a complete stop. After a few attempts I managed to start her up again, with a cloud of white smoke. I was now quite concerned that I might end up stranded somewhere on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere if this bike turns out to be unreliable. I made it back to Cabarete and explained my predicament to Josef and his assistant Pedro. They seemed partly amused and partly annoyed and concerned. How was I to know that I wasn't supposed to keep the thing at full throttle all the way?? :) This is the beauty of life, never a day goes by where I don't learn something new. Two stroke motorcycles are new to me.

I decided to pop into Jose O'Shea's to see if I could run into Frank. He's a busy man trying to run the place but he made sure to take the time to give me some advice, between chatting up the cute chicks across from me and serving other customers. Heck! I would have preferred talking to the young girls myself given the choice between them and some middle aged lesbian :)

Cabarete Beach is absolutely lovely and Cabarete itself just isn't for me. The sooner I can get out of here, the better. The armed security guard at the Cabarete Surf Camp insisted that I couldn't take the bike into the compound, and he wouldn't loan me his pistol either ...sheesh!
 
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Scrabblebiker

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Mar 1, 2014
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Day 4
Cabarete, Puerto Plata to Las Galeras, Samana
222km's as per Google Maps

The bike's speedometer, and subsequently, odometer aren't working. All I know is that if I keep her at about 5000RPM she's reasonably happy.

Finally! Finally! I get to hit the road ...not literally I hope :)

Once I actually got rolling the heat wasn't entirely unbearable under my full face helmet and decidedly non-tropical riding jacket. Oh well, I may not have much inside my head but I'd like to keep it anyway. So helmet it is all the way ...well, most of the way anyway ...well, we'll see how it all plays out along the way.

Once outside of the towns, especially Cabarete, the driving was actually downright pleasant. In a rather refreshing way the drivers seemed a lot less aggressive, murderous and suicidal than the ones I had encountered in Mexico and Central America.

I had nonetheless been warned about the king of the asphalt jungle, which apparently roams these narrow strips connecting town after town in this here country. Finally my keen eye on the rearview mirror (the bike actually has two of them for some inexplicable reason) caught a glimpse of a yellow flash behind me. There it was in all its' magnificence. Noble and big and not to be messed with. It blew past me in a wake of turbulence, while I demurely hugged the right side of the road trying not to make eye contact, and proceeded to violently negotiate the narrow streets of the village ahead. Thankfully all the other road species knew their place and we all survived by deferring to the alpha beast. Noxious black farts emanated from its' anus as it shooed everything out of the way. My understanding is that inside the belly of this beast lives a symbiotic organism called turistus autobus. Every now and then these organisms are expelled at predetermined spots to be replaced with fresh ones for the voyage ahead.

The road surface was a mixture of "wow this is amazing" to "holy ****, there's no way to swerve around a pothole without hitting another one" ....good choice on the off road machine. Locals went about their business on their little motos with everyday tasks such as riding three up; transporting propane tanks, dragging three logs behind them; and other mundane and normal stuff.

I was feeling dehydrated and decided to stop at a Colmado at the turnoff from Sanchez to Las Terrenas. Immediately upon stopping and getting off the bike an old man sitting out front started cursing me, shouting incessantly in a very angry voice. I basically made out "va al diablo", something about turismo and pobresa along with the local two fingered salute telling me to go forth and multiply. The girls in the shop seemed quite embarassed and the two absolutely darling young boys out front couldn't help but just grin when I quietly said "el no es muy feliz".

I politely smiled at the elder and informed the gentleman via sign language, that as a Canadian I have a much more efficient way of communicating things of a sexual nature, using only one finger :)

The road across the hills to Las Terrenas is simply stupendous. The views are to die for and curves all just blend one into another. Much of the time I remained in first gear since the little DT 125 wasn't running too well ...or maybe that's all she's got. I was also reminded on the downhill part that this bike does not have disk brakes. At the viewpoint two men on a little moto made up for my earlier "miscommunication" with the loco de Sanchez, by being their friendly, receptive Dominican selves and telling me how great Las Terrenas is.

I didn't care for Las Terrenas. It struck me as just another Cabarete, no offence to any Cabaretans or Terrenans ...It's just not my scene. Even for a jaded Canadian like me, who's very familiar with quads, I've never seen any so HUGE! before. So I decided to carry on to Las Galeras after a lunch of Pollo Suiza along the road.

DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT believe distance markers along the road. A sign said Samana 23 and about 20 seconds later another said 14. To add to the fun, someone had removed/stolen many manhole covers along the road out of Las Terrenas. Luckily I spotted some palm fronds sticking out of the road and quickly remembered reading something about this being a warning of a missing manhole cover.

Needless to say, my bum hurts in a major way, in spite of all the extra natural padding accumulated over the years. I already miss my little Ellie who had to stay behind. That would be my BMW F650GS, who couldn't make the trip. Well, I suppose my human sweetheart couldn't make it either. Something about having to put in some more "pensionable" days at her job with the Federal Government.

I'm now in Las Galeras which I absolutely love so far. It's completely relaxed and just the kind of beach town I'd be looking for anywhere. Parrot fish with plantains and rice on the beach and about an hour of photography during the "golden hour" of sunset and I'm back in my room for some relaxation and the rest of my Barcelo rum.

I'm staying at CASA ?PORQU? NO? Bed & Breakfast. It's run by a French Canadian couple, Monique and Pierre. Pierre was a bit annoyed that Monique gave me the room for $40/night but I assured him in my best Quebecois French that I felt quite lucky indeed :) It's still way above my desired budget, but what the heck! it's quite nice and downright peaceful in spite of being right along the main road, albeit set way back from the street. Some much more affordable options were La Cueva and La Ranchita but they're a bit out of town and I have no desire to ride the bike at night on a very nasty dirt road while heading for dinner. Otherwise they're fine.
 
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frank12

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Sep 6, 2011
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Fantastic report so far. Love it! And yes, i'm glad i met you.

Take a ride to Playa Rincon, which is not too far from where you're at right now.

Frank
 

Dolores1

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May 3, 2000
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Don't forget to check out the Iguanario on the road to Playa Rincon, Kaio natural aquarium off the beach at Ahmsa Casa Marina and La Playita, for lunch at Isabela's fonda.
 

frank12

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Sep 6, 2011
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Since you are in Las Galeras, there is one more adventure i would highly recommend: Playa Fronton.

This is what you need to have ready for this trip:

1. Courage.
2. Heart.
3. Brain.
4. Balls.

Ok, if you don't have ballls, large ovaries can be substituted. this is what the trip involves. driving 1.5 miles out of town back towards Samana. right after you pass the turn off for Playa Rincon--which will be on your right hand side as you head from Las Galeras to Samana, there will be a turn to the left to a place called "Boca De Diablo."

There is no sign, but there is a small colmado on the left corner where you turn to the left down a semi-paved road which is an adventure in and of itself--with granite cliffs, pot holes the size of impact craters, and cows and zombies standing in the middle of the road chewing on something.

Once you turn left, you will follow that semi-paved road until it turn into a dirt road. there is a large cave at the end of the road where the paved road turns into a dirt road. it's a large cave and semi hidden behind heavy brush and trees. it will be on your left hand side. stop there to urinate and take in the sights of the large cave. continue down the dirt road until it dead ends. however, before it dead ends, there is a turn off to the right where an enormous blow hole sits wedged in-between rocks which is called "Boca de Diablo" this is a place where the ocean comes about 40 meters underneath the volcanic rocks and narrows into a rocky passage where it sends ocean spray shooting up into the sky and and bathing everyone around. bring soap, shampoo and a toothbrush and take a bath there.

After you follow that dirt road until it dead ends, you will pick up a walking trail. their is only one walking trail. the trail follows a path through a jungle into the Heart of Darkness. at the end of the trial is a man known as Colonel Kurtz. He's been stranded there since Vietnam and is fighting his own private war there.

there is an 80ft granite cliff to your left and the ocean to your right. between the cliff and the ocean is only about 40 meters of land that is very heavily covered by coconut trees and an assortment of fruit trees, gnomes, trolls, and swamps. Ignore them and continue on your journey.

again, there is only one path. you follow this path for one hour where it will open onto the most stunning, gorgeous beach on the island. Hands down, it is the most exotic and hardest to reach beach on this island. the beach is called "Playa Fronton." the beach is only one football field in length and is semi-deserted unless some boats have brought some tourists there for an hour of relaxation.

Once on the beach, i recommend taking your clothes off--as you most likely will be the only homo sapien for miles and miles, and roll on the beach and swim in the ocean and find something to play and entertain yourself with. i like playing with seaweed and jelly fish. but you may prefer something less tingly and toxic.

The trek to the beach is covered under a canopy of tens of thousands of coconut trees and wild fauna and wild flowers. i guarantee that this will be the most exotic adventure you do on this island....or your money back.

Frank
 

Dolores1

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May 3, 2000
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Thanks to Frank for the instructions to get to Fronton by moto. Went once with my family by boat. Recommend the boat trip only if it is a smooth water day. Anyway… Frank left out mentioning the cave-house built upwards from Fronton, supposedly by a fugitive of German justice who lived there for quite a while.

By the way, my recommendation for when taking a boat trip is to book the captain of the boat as your guide, and have him stay with you.

Anyway…

Now on these kind of trips…

One of the most memorable trips I have had was one precisely on a foot trail into Las Galeras… up the road to Playa Madama beach. The beach can be reached on foot -- is about a two hour walk… there are two roads on the trail that later we learned go to the same place and that explained the signs pointing to opposite directions but indicating the same place. At Playa Madama there is a cave that can be visited, so worth taking a flashlight.

Anyway, we practically got lost and walked and walked through wonderful jungle. When we finally got to Madama, a guy on the beach wanted RD$150 for each coconut… he would climb up to get one. We bought one and laughed off the experience of Robinson Crusoe feeling. I would recommend this trail for the trail and the refreshing dip in the beach after the long walk. You can go to the beach by one and return by the other. But I would recommend you taking a guide. You would explain you want to do both. This is a worthwhile trip to do in the morning. On the way back, you can stop at El Cabito for lunch and great views.

But if your time is limited… it's Playa Rincon (walk the entire beach, my favourite side is the east side) and La Playita with lunch at isabela's fonda with fried fish and pina coladas in the pineapple shell. There is a pineapple farm nearby.
 

Scrabblebiker

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Mar 1, 2014
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You are hardcore riding alone on this type of adventure here! Thanks for the posts, interesting read.

How long are you here for?

I wish you a safe fun trip!

Thanks. I'm here until April 1st. Not really hard core, just unable to make any friends as nuts as I am to keep me company ;-)
 

Scrabblebiker

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Mar 1, 2014
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Las Galeras Day

Day 5
Las Galeras Day

I slept like a log ..or a dog, I can't remember too much. Only the fan and the crickets to keep me company throughout the night. I woke up early full of get up and go and realized it was only about 6:00am. After breakfast my get and go got up and went and I went back to bed til about 10. Finally catching up on precious sleep which had been escaping me back home.

Playa del Rincon comes highly recommended and for good reason. I was expecting a rough slog along unmarked dirt roads pockmarked with rim swallowing potholes. Now they tell me that there's a brand new paved road almost all the way to the beach. This is small motorcycle heaven. The road winds through tropical landscapes dotted with little houses, banana plantations and local folks going about their business. Horses run and whinnie in the fields and it all feels pretty laid back, just laid back enough to cause one to let down one's guard enough to hit an unexpected crater in the road ...didn't happen to me, thankfully.

Playa Del Rincon lives up to its' reputation. Simply stunning!! Once at the end of the road you can go left down a sandy track to the more laid back end with the local flair, complete with a typical restaurant and a freshwater swimming hole where locals and tourists frolic in the cold water. Albatroses soar overhead and fishermen strain against their nets while their boat tosses around in the waves. A nice area for genus turistus independentus.

To the right is an even sandier track going even further down to the opposite end of the beach. The beach is lined with lounge chairs occupied by what struck me as more of the package and tour oriented genus of tourist. Large safari type truck/buses crawl down the track to this particular end. Throngs of Turistus Autobus sticking their heads out the sides and calling out hola! as I respectfully stopped off the track to let the snarling beast go by.

Two tourists on dirt bikes in front of me almost went down in the sand, so they stopped to let me by. I showed them my motorcycle prowess by wildly spinning out in front of them. I managed to stay upright with a shred of my dignity intact. I jokingly congratulated them on making it once at the end of the road and was met with nothing but scowls. Maybe they didn't speak English and were wondering what the heck I was doing attempting to be friendly in anything but Italian? ...no se.

Time for a nap on the beach somewhere between the two ends where I could have some peace and quiet ...ah!! beach paradise. I almost drifted off to the sound of the waves, while "la poderosa" kept me company. That's what I'm now calling the bike ...rather ironically. Aside from one lady selling me some pan de coco just as I was about to leave, everyone just left me alone ...it doesn't get more perfect than that. Playa del Rincon has something for everyone as far as I'm concerned.

Of course, since I'm here I'd be remiss in not visiting La Playita. Loud thumping music emanated from the restaurant and a gaggle of sad looking non-locals milled about, most with cancer sticks in their mouths. None of them had a single glimmer of friendliness about them, but the broadly smiling and laughing locals more than made up for it.

Then I spotted a young girl in tight shorts with her belt dangling openly, the top button of her pants undone and the zipper partly pulled down. I'm now wondering if that's the local way of saying "For Rent"?

The water is resplendent and turquoise and looks quite inviting. Alas, I'm still avoiding the water because of the burn, but it won't be long. I grabbed a table and a beer and decided to do some people watching, an activity which often enthralls me for hours. Within about 10 minutes a young Haitian fellow had sat down across from me after I made the mistake of answering in the affirmative when he asked me if I spoke French. He proceeded to tell me how much he liked my colour ...my arms are beet red from riding in the sun and probably emitting a foul odour at the same time. He also made sure I realized that the local Dominicans were all jealous of him, sitting with someone like me. I was torn between just letting him play out his gig, or telling him about how men just don't do it for me. I opted for the first one, finished my beer and went back to bed for an afternoon siesta.

I heard back from Josef in Cabarete and he assures me that one overweight chica and her massively overpacked luggage will indeed cause the little bike to be a bit on the slow side when climbing the hills. After all, I am accustomed to a bit of a larger beast back home. So far, "la poderosa" is holding up, in spite of lots of scary noises and moans and groans.
 

Scrabblebiker

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Mar 1, 2014
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Nightie Night Y'all's

Some very sage advice to all. Never, ever watch a very sad and gripping movie before bedtime. I was tired and decidedly cranky today and decided to make it a dinner and movie night by myself. I went to La Aventura De John for a rather delicious Mexican pizza and a mediocre glass of Cabernet Sauvignon ....chilled, no less. The pizza was great and the service was complete with an indifferent scowl ...no tip for YOU! The expats milling about were happily getting tipsy while sucking on one cancer stick after another. I must by now be the only non Dominican not addicted to that vile weed. Even the American couple who sat down beside me lit one sickarette after another. I suppose my life as a a Canadian has shielded me to the point of forgetting that the rest of the world iis still seriously addicted to this drug. Wake up folks! get addicted to travel instead! ...or maybe competitive Scrabble. :smoke::smoke::smoke:

Back to my room and I remembered that I had a copy of "The Impossible" on my laptop. What an incredibly gripping and tearjerking movie. Yes, it is amazingly dramatized and probably bears little resemblance to what's important to the 10's of thousands of Thais who lost their lives and/or loved ones in 2004. But nonetheless a good movie with one of my favourite sexy actors, U-An Mac Gregga! ...I'm supposed to be gay but I'll probably make an exception for him, especially after his performance in "Long way round" ...sorry Patti! ...OK, not really.

There's a really nice feel of community in Las Galeras and Monique and Pierre of Porque No B&B didn't hesitate one second to call Karin at La Hacienda, up the hill, so I could make arrangements to stay with her and do some horseback riding to the viewpoint in the morning. BTW, I really love this little B&B and would recommend it to anyone. It's not the cheapest option in town, but it's not terribly expensive either. Monique and Pierre are great hosts and the place is very quiet in spite of being smack dab in the middle of town.

Sorry Frank. As much as I appreciate your advice, you lost me at "trolls". I'm not afraid of them but I just find their odor quite repugnant and wouldn't be able to make it past them. BTW, the Colonel and I actually get alog quite well.

Tonight I got an invitation to come on down to them thar hills and spend some time on a DL650 for some gnarly, twisty fun. I'll take him up on it.

Good night y'all's
 

Scrabblebiker

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Mar 1, 2014
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Horsing Around

Day 6
More Las Galeras Adventures.

I packed my massive bag and felt downright embarrassed by how much crap I was carrying. Someone even asked me if I was carrying camping gear ...I'm not.

I had an appointment with Karin at La Hacienda for 10am up in the hills. This is my chance to finally get to ride a horse ...first time ever. My heart was pounding and my breathing was heavy and laboured, even though all I was doing was standing there watching Karin get the horses ready and giving me a crash course on horsology and how not to get kicked in the face. I didn't realize I'd feel so intimidated by these beasts.

Now it was my time to shine and swing my svelte physique in to saddle to a round of approving nods and loud applause. Left foot into the stirrup, grab the knob on the saddle and swing myself up ...easy as pie. I made it about a foot off the ground and just hung there not able to pull myself up. One more try while Karin desperately tried to keep Colon, the horse, from moving around under my squiggly mass. One, Two, Three and UP I went ...well, almost. But I was now far enough up to be able to grab poor Colon's neck while temporarily lying across his back like a sack of rice about to be delivered to the farmers market. I grabbed on to what I could and hoisted myself into the saddle while Karin looked on with great concern. I wished someone had videotaped this since it was funnier than mere words can convey.

Then I finally got to drive ...er ride the horse. We slowly bounced along a road, then a trail to a point above Madama Beach, were Karin tied up the horses for us to be able to continue on foot. Madama Beach is tiny, its' beauty does not lend itself to words. There were a few local youngster frolicking in the water and the breeze made it one of the more perfect experiences so far.

After chatting with the locals and allowing my heart rate and breathing to become closer to normal, we headed to the viewpoint looking back towards the beach. Sharp cratered, foot swallowing limestone supported our feet as we precariously stood way above the water for yet another million dollar view.

To the bat cave Robin! Of course no guided tour in an area composed of carst would be complete without a visit to a cave. Karin is very knowledgeable about the local animals and plants ...or very good at making things up. I choose to believe in option one. She showed me dangly bats, limestone formations in the shape of squids, T-Rex, and a few others. Then there were the spiders living in darkness, complete with exceedingly long feelers to navigate in the dark.

There are no cars, no motos and almost no tourists. Of course, no sooner said than a whole boatload of about 6 of them showed up with kids and strollers. I confided in Karin that it was getting too busy for me. She agreed and we headed off back to the horses. I've known for a while that I'm in deplorable shape but it was really driven home today when I was huffing and puffing and feeling dizzy from the walking around and the ascent back to the horses.

We had now smartened up a bit and decided to compensate for my lack of horse mounting skills, and a repeat performance of my earlier comedy routine. Karin "parked" Colon beside a little rise on the ground and I swung up into the saddle like a seasoned pro. Poor Colon was creaking under my weight and I could have sworn his legs buckled a few times. Anyway, I've decided that I like horseback riding, it's relaxing once I got over my anxiety. I've also decided that a very large part of me simply has to go away ...especially the area around my waist. I'll keep the bum padding, thank you very much.

With every single trip I do, I always pack way to much junk. I counted 9 pairs of socks, way too many shirts, and why the heck did I bring along a back country water filter? Karin is taking a bag of stuff off me to give to those in need in the area. Now I can actually properly close my bag and I can lay off the two sherpas I hired to carry my extra gear.

Rain showers hit this afternoon and I rode down the nasty "road" into town for some dinner, while waiting out the heavier downpours under whatever tree canopy I could find. I ended up having Chivo. It was quite tasty, but way too salty for me. Also, the little chunks of bone I kept encountering in my mouth made for a rather gingerly eating experience. It was now dark and I had to do what everyone tells me not to do. Even I tell myself not to do it. I drove back up the rim crunching road in the dark. Much to my delight I discovered that the bike actually has a working headlight, complete with a high beam.

Tomorrow I'll try to leave early and make it to Jarabacoa to pop in to See Robert Cooper of Motocaribe tours. I look forward to meeting him and get to know everything about the area. Unfortunately he tells me he injured himself ...not bike related and we won't be riding together after all ...bummer.

Another quiet night of listening to the crickets. It's peaceful up here in the hills.

...Michelle
 

frank12

Gold
Sep 6, 2011
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Scrabble,

This is absolutely one of the best threads in a long, long time. The writing is superb, the humor is immaculate, an the adventure on a scale of one to ten is one thousand. Seriously, great writing and great posts. With some pictures it would be even beyond what's already a perfect adventure thread!

You'll love he ride to Jarabacoa and you'll love Robert Cooper.

Frank
 

gas

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Jul 28, 2013
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Scrabble,

This is absolutely one of the best threads in a long, long time. The writing is superb, the humor is immaculate, an the adventure on a scale of one to ten is one thousand. Seriously, great writing and great posts. With some pictures it would be even beyond what's already a perfect adventure thread!
Frank

I got tears in my eyes reading this stuff! It's sooooo gooood; I think I'll become a Canadian lesbo; then mebbe I'll learn how to write.
 

Scrabblebiker

Member
Mar 1, 2014
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Scrabble,

This is absolutely one of the best threads in a long, long time. The writing is superb, the humor is immaculate, an the adventure on a scale of one to ten is one thousand. Seriously, great writing and great posts. With some pictures it would be even beyond what's already a perfect adventure thread!

You'll love he ride to Jarabacoa and you'll love Robert Cooper.

Frank

Geez! How can I NOT post pictures after that glowing comment?

OK, there will be pictures. Stay tuned. Tired tonight and resting while Robert Cooper and Alida are making pizza and doing their best to keep the dogs from sticking their noses into my burn wound.
 

Scrabblebiker

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Mar 1, 2014
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Day 7
Las Galeras to Jarabacoa
214km's if one believes Google Maps.

I once more slept like a log on ativan. Maybe the lack of alcohol during the day had something to do with it ...hmm. I had ambitious plans for the day. Leave early for the long unknown trek to Jarabacoa. After all, the dirt bikes don't really have seats for sitting since their riders spend so much time on the pegs. So lots of rest would be required. I roared off at the crack of 10am and la poderosa happily whinnied as we zoomed down the road at a breakneck speed of about 60km/h.

Back the way I came for now. The route into Samana is lovely with tropical trees, flowers and houses dotting it all the way. Then there she was ...Samana! A full fledged tourist city with two kings of the ocean anchored a little offshore. These beasts contain yet another symbiotic collection of beings in their bowels, turistus marinus. Turistus marinus serves the purpose of being released at choice feeding grounds where their nature compels the to collect items which are brought back to the king vessel. The scientists haven't quite figured this out yet but some feel that turistus marinus will talk about the acquisitions, causing more intoxicating liquids to be consumed, liquids which eventually get routed to the beasts propulsion system via a highly evolved system of bowls and ductways.

It was Sunday and everyone and their three legged dog was out and about. One thing I must say about driving in the Dominican Republic, it's a dance, almost a beautiful ballet ...Swan Lake maybe ...or was that Swang into the lake trying to avoid a Caribe Tours bus? While it seems chaotic, well OK it is chaotic, there is quite a rhythm to it. I have yet to see any deliberately mean and aggressive act, everyone just seesaws around each other and it's mesmerizing at times. It takes a few days to get used to but I'm now basically back in Mexico and Central America, even though it's much, much more relaxed here. For anyone driving here, leave your North American or European sensitivities at home and go with the flow of the locals.

On the way past Sanchez I quickly looked up the hill towards the Colmado where I had my earlier political discussion with one of the town elders. I was disappointed that I didn't see him since I wanted to give him a friendly wave to thank for his earlier warm welcome.

Yes, lots of rest. That's important on long hot rides on uncomfortable seats ...ahem! Village after village, colmado, after colmado, comedor after comedor and car wash after car wash went by. I stubbornly gripped la poderosa's horns and just kept her going without stopping until about halfway to Jarabacoa.

Shortly after the Catay Airport I turned onto the new Autopista to Santo Domingo. Oh well, maybe I'll end up in Santo Domingo I thought, if there's no exit. I had come in via the coast and wanted to go inland this time. A short while later and this pretty good highway, I saw a sign to Arenoso. Perfect, that's where my Canadian made map told me to go for some roads less travelled. Once again the roads were mostly in pretty good shape. A few abandoned sugar mills ...or some kind of silo type thingy dotted the pancake flat lush and green agricultural area.

On to Las Teranas where I now had to stop for some food lest I collapse. A super colmado lined with dozens of liquor bottles behind a bar was blaring ear splitting music. I stopped and shouted at the tops of my lungs at the man who worked there, trying to get some water and food. He sold me some water then got his young friend to drive him and his moto to the town centre to a little comedor. The offering of the day was rice and pork. I ordered one with a coke and before I new it the two men also had full plates in front of them. It was passable food and I asked how much. My new friend called out to the kitchen and asked how much for 3 meals and 2 cokes. I had an inner smirk and resigned myself to the idea that I was paying for all the meals. I pulled out my wallet and my new friend almost seemed offended and said "yo pago". Then they led me back out to the highway, showed me the way to La Vega and reminded me to always shoulder check before moving. I felt somewhat embarrassed for my thoughts.

On through Castillo and Pimentel. Just because there's a red line on a map doesn't mean there's any real serviceable road there. From there I followed the road through Caobete and Las Guaranas. Obviously this road was once paved. There was enough pavement left to mangle rims, buck inexperienced riders out of their saddles and, cause some strange rumblings in my stomach ...oh wait, that could have been my lunch choice.

A bunch of motoconcho drivers started arguing amongst themselves when I asked for directions. I opted for the one who said "it's the easiest way". Even the most hard core arguer against grudgingly admitted that it was easier. So, south I went to Angelina and then west to Fantino and Jima Abajo, shortly after which I joined to Autopista Duarte to La Vega.

I still have plenty of fuel and was anxious to get to Jarabacoa. Poor little poderosa was huffing and puffing up the hill. The landscape slowly started changing and the air became noticeably cooler. The hill was massively steep and la poderosa again sputter to a halt just as the hill began to flatten out. I could see the distorted hot air rising from her engine and let her rest a bit, feeding her oats and saying soothing words before she decided to rebel completely and buck me.

We came to a peaceful arrangement and up we climbed. This is definitely tourist country. Many hotels, restaurants and attractions line the way up.

Robert was waiting at the gate for me along with three exceptionally friendly dogs. So friendly that one massive brute, who seems to think he's still puppy, said hello by jumping on me and almost gashing the skin on my left leg. The Jack Russel was very concerned about my burn wound and kept attempting to disinfect it with snout juice.

Robert and Alida are great folks and made pizza and salad for dinner. Conversation turned to world affairs, cultural issues and economics. I was offered another night at their place so I can do a day ride without all my crap. Lot's of great advice on local routes and the Southwest area.

There was talk of Robert going out riding with me tomorrow on his bikes. But since he's injured himself he can't ride right now. He spontaneously mused if maybe he should just loan me one of his bikes to take out tomorrow. I think we both decided that it probably wouldn't be an ideal situation.