Puerto Rico--May 2019!
On Tuesday, May 21, Casey and I dropped our 5 kids off at Grandma and Grandpa Sullivan's house, handed off our van keys to our niece, Jessie (who'd agreed to shuttle the kids to and from school in our absence), and flew to Aguadilla, Puerto Rico for 8 days.
We travelled through the night and staggered off the plane into this little international airport in humid 85-degree weather. The humble Aguadilla Airport, located in the northwest coastal corner of the island, only sees a few flights every day. The single terminal is an old, weather-worn Quonset-style air hanger. Just outside the airport, we met Miguel Rivera, a 75-year old man who'd been driving taxi for 40-plus years. Casey and I both know quite a bit of Spanish, but we soon realized that Puerto Rican Spanish isn't the kind of Spanish that we speak. It belongs to a group of Caribbean Spanish variants--largely derived from Canarian and Andalusian Spanish. They drop tons of sounds in their pronuncian of words and we both had to focus intensely to understand relatively little. My own understanding was about 20%, whereas normally I can pick up easily more than half of the average Spanish conversation. Our plan was to Uber it down to Villa Pesquera in Puerto Real, Cabo Rojo, an old fishing village on the southwest coast of the island, where we planned on staying for two days at an Airbnb that we'd booked. We decided to ditch Uber and give Miguel the job. He spoke pretty much no English and his Puerto Rican-style Spanish was spoken so rapidly and through half-opened old-man lips and missing teeth. Our communication was primitive, but whole-hearted. We didn't have enough cash on hand for the $75 fare that Miguel required, so he took us to a nearby ATM to stock up.
The 1.5 hour drive from Aguadilla to Villa Pesquera was epic. Miguel taught us how to locate the mystical third lane where there are only two. It was crazy-man magic and somehow we survived.
Us with new friend and transportation guru, Miguel.
Casey, sealing the deal with Miguel.
Villa Pesquera is a walkable, waterfront neighborhood sprinkled with little restaurants that universally serve fresh local seafood. We tried some street-vendor conch empanadas to fuel our search for bigger volume and eventually ended up at a restaurant down the street for fish soup, sorullitos and fresh fish. Puerto Rican food is the goods. Casey and I loved it so much that after we got back from our trip I cooked Puerto Rican food every night for a week straight.
Giant tarpon circling the dock (aka living room) at Sol Casita, who subsist on food scraps that fall through the floor boards from the kitchens that sit, literally, right above the water.
Casey at the Don Ico Restaurant, just down the street from where we were staying in Puerto Real. After lunch, we moved our stuff into our room at Sol Casita and headed out into the Atlantic Ocean with the help of Lina's sea kayak. We navigated the southwestern coast, pulled the kayak onto a beach and explored a coastal nature preserve, and survived various torrential downpours during our afternoon expedition. (Every afternoon, the thunderheads move in and dump, and I do mean dump, on the coast.) The coastal coral reefs and sea vegetation were beautiful and the water was perfectly turquoise and clear.
The walls of our room at Sol Casita were imbedded with colored bottles that glowed at night.
Casey, fishing from our dock in Puerto Real, where he did catch one barracuda.
Casey in his element. Absolute paradise.
The homes are built right out over the water in Villa Pesquera.
Our neighbors.
Casey and I spent some time each day walking the neighborhood streets. The homes were mostly humble, some still looking pretty beaten down from the fury of Hurricane Maria (which devastated Puerto Rico two years ago). There were dogs (and packs of dogs) and horses, picketed in yards and roaming the streets, everywhere.
A random horse out foraging.
Casey and I were out foraging as well. There were mango trees of several varieties everywhere, dropping obscene amounts of ripened, unwanted fruit that we happily collected en masse.
We tried to wait out several downpours under trees to no avail and inevitably ended up soaked, every day, multiple times. On this day, Casey and I were headed to a little market, on foot, of course, to procure 8 gallons of drinking water to bring on our upcoming trip to the uninhabited Mona Island (a tiny island midway between Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic), where we planned to stay for 4 days.
The streets turned into rivers when the rain came down,
Some of the run-off from a downpour, literally morphing a backyard into a pond and creating an adjacent stream.
On Thursday night, or more accurately on Friday morning (at 12:30 AM), we met the group that we would travel to Mona with at a small marina just down the street from where we were staying. The head guide, Raymond Sepulvida, was one of Casey's customers when he worked for Liberty Mountain distributing climbing equipment and outdoor gear to international accounts. Raymond owns an outdoor shop in San Juan called Acampa and runs expeditions out to Mona Island a few times a year. When Raymond would come to Utah for the Outdoor Retailer's Trade Show, back in the day, Casey would take him on local adventures. I met Raymond back in 2005 when Casey, Raymond, and I climbed the Middle Teton together. Raymond is an educated, likeable, personable, fun kind of guy with a wry sense of humor. He teams up with some of his old high school friends--Salvi (a professional photographer, surfer, and adventurer) and Rafa (an local attorney, surfer, and adventurer) to guide these eco-adventure trips. They also brought along a professional gourmet chef, Manolo, who owns his own restaurant in San Juan (the Cocobana) to prepare all of the food during the trip.
This big transport boat was aptly named the Torpedo and piloted by a recently retired Coast Guard captain named David. We loaded the boat with all of our gear and supplies and motored out toward Isla de la Mona in the wee hours of the morning. The Mona Passage is apparently one of the most treacherous stretches of water in the Caribbean. It's just south of the Puerto Rican Trench--the deepest part of the Atlantic Ocean--and the place where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Caribbean Sea. The tidal currents are unpredictable (the tides are created by the large islands flanking it) and the wave patterns are erratic. Apparently the best time (or safest) to cross the passage is in the middle of the night. We set up our beach chairs on the boat and tried to sleep as we motored across the Mona Passage in the wee hours of the night. Casey was mostly just trying not to puke.
Motoring up to Isla de la Mona, the third largest island in the Puerto Rican archipelago, Friday morning after a four hour voyage across the infamous Mona Passage. The 7 by 4 mile island is surrounded by coral reefs that have claimed many a vessel, so a captain needs to be ultra-experienced to navigate boats in.
"At various times in its history, Isla de la Mona was home to a thriving Taíno Indian village, a favorite stopover for marauding pirates, a secret hideaway for stolen treasure, the site of a lucrative mining operation, a vital breeding ground for migratory birds and sea turtles, and the final resting place for many a sailing ship sent careening into its unforgiving cliffs by rough waters and winds."
--Suzanne Van Atten
Who would not want to come to this place, I ask?
Mona is designated as a national park and is administered by Puerto Rico's Departamento de Recursos Naturales y Ambientales--the DRNA. It is uninhabited, although there are usually a few rangers or researchers stationed at Playa Pajaros (on the island's southeast side)--one of only two beaches that are accessible by boat, since the majority of the island's perimeter is coastal cliff or encircled by extensive reefs. We set up camp on the west side of the island at Playa Sardinera.
The island's geology is like a two-layer cake consisting of a dolomite core and a limestone cap. The limestone is worn everywhere into jagged, razor-sharp patterns. The upper limestone layer is home to more than 200 flank margin caves, mostly formed at the interface of the two rock layers, and full of stalagmites, stalactites, flow stones and decorated with Pre-Columbian, Taino art. The feel of the island is full-on primal!
The beach, Playa Sardinera, where we camped was crawling with giant hermit crabs. They were everywhere and ran in packs. Seriously.
This species of giant ground iguanas (more than a meter long) are found only on Isla de la Mona and are everywhere.
Casey, hanging out at our beach camp the day that we arrived on Mona. Our tent was right next to this hammock.
Fig roots reaching down into a flank margin cave through a skylight opening make great facial hair.
Jean-Pierre, a French biologist and iguana expert, was one of our adventure mates. He'd come to study and photograph the endemic Mona Iguana (above) for an upcoming publication that he was working on.
Rene, Jean-Pierre, and Casey, detaining a Mona Iguana for scientific study.
Casey, wielding some of the myriad flotsam and jetsam that washes ashore.
sea + mossy beach log + white sand = magic
After exploring several cave systems on the northwest side of the island, we hiked around the coast to the Cueva de Agua--the aptly, but not-so-creatively named "Water Cave." There is a small opening at the base of a cliff--you can see it in the photo below--after entering that opening and then walking for a few minutes through a dark tunnel, lit only by headlamp, you drop down into an unreal, white-walled cavern filled with crystal clear, turquoise water. It is the craziest thing.
Near the entrance to Cueva de Agua.
Climbing down into the Cueva de Agua.
Casey, feeling it on day #1 of Mona.
On Friday night, Casey and I joined some fellow expeditioners, Rene and Kathy, Ronnie and Appie, and Jean-Pierre for a frog hunt. Mona is home to the endemic Mona Coqui. We found several on the paved path leading to the top of the island.
The Mona Coqui, found only on Isla de la Mona.
A scorpion that Rene found using his black light.
The dawn of day #2 on the island. During the night, loads of Sargasso seaweed had washed up on the beaches.
Casey out doing some early morning fishing on Saturday.
Ready to start the big adventure on Saturday morning.
Herds of giant hermits, hanging around the Manolo's "kitchen."
Manolo, preparing to feed the masses on Saturday morning.
Day #2 on the island was the day of an epic, 12-mile, all-day exploration. I had been so worried about my injured ankle--that ski accident in March tore 5 ligaments and 2 tendons--but I was able to keep up with our group, even with my slow and careful foot placements over the continuously uneven terrain. This trip to Mona was the first time in two months that I'd walked more than 50 yards at a time. I call it a Mona miracle. We started by hiking around the perimeter of the island, headed towards the far eastern end.
Examining some old rock walls near our beach camp.
Hiking around the southern coast of the island.
We got to wear these bright orange shirts so that we could be more easily located if we got lost somewhere on the island.
Some Dr. Seuss-style cactus.
The fig root systems were incredible!
Wind and water-weathered sea boulders.
The limestone was weathered into razor-sharp designs.
Coastal cactus.
After skirting along the southern coast, we headed toward the island's now defunct lighthouse, built in 1900, on the eastern edge of Mona. The trail that we took brought us through a cave called "Cueva de la Escalera," a cave that the lighthouse was transported through (in pieces) on a rail system that is still intact in places. The rail system was used to transport supplies from the beach up to the lighthouse while it was still in operation (up until 1973 when it was replaced with an automated beacon).
Cueva de la Escalera
We followed the trail from the beach, through the cave, and up onto the plateau-like top of the island, which looks like a veritable desert--full of cacti, agave, yucca, frangipani, and aloe vera. There is a type of cactus that only grows here and on two other tiny nearby islands (Desecheo and Monita)--the Higo Chumbo Cactus .
Navigating over the top of the island toward the lighthouse.
"Blind Iguanas"
The trail to the lighthouse.
Giant caterpillars decimating some frangipani.
We explored an expansive cave system near the lighthouse. This was the entrance.
Those are roots, growing down into the margin flank cave.
Rafa, Raymond, and Salvi, our three spunky guides.
The cave systems were phenomenal and over-whelming and seemingly never-ending.
The caves opened up to windows that looked out over cliffs, hovering 200 feet above the ocean.
Crab-earrings. All the rage on Mona.
After navigating through several caves, we headed back to the lighthouse proper for lunch and lounging.
Cotton near the lighthouse.
The old lighthouse and giant keeper's house.
Casey used the old outhouse out of necessity.
Casey with his goat skull. (During the 18th century, farmers brought pigs, goats, and cats to the island.)
The endemic Higo Chumbo Cactus. It bears big edible yellow fruits.
The water was really that crazy unreal color of blue around the island. The floating stuff is Sargasso seaweed.
We hiked back to our beach camp on a trail that traverses in a long line over the top of the island.
Jean-Pierre, taking pictures of iguanas near the composting bathrooms near our campsite. There are no sources of freshwater on the island so the DRNA has set up several cisterns (that big blue tank-thing) that collect the rainwater.
Each night after our adventures, we'd come back to camp at Playa Sardinera to an unreal scene. Manolo's dining area was decked out with tableclothes, creative centerpieces (crafted from fruit or from shells or plants or found objects on the island), music playing, lights strung up in the palm trees, and the most amazing Puerto Rican food. Although the island was rugged and absolutely primal, there was this ever-present juxtaposition that created a certain magic every day.
Sunrise on day #3--Sunday.
Sunday was a day of relative rest. David picked us up in the Torpedo for a trip around to the other side of the island, which ended up being a complete circumnavigation by the end of the day. We stopped part-way around the island at the other main beach--Playa Pajaros--where the researchers and rangers hang out, to walk along the beach, explore some minor beach caves, and have a full-on Carribean BBQ.
Salvi, fishing on our day trip to Playa Pajaros.
Casey was chumming the water with his breakfast the entire way. Poor guy.
These cliffs on the north end of the island are home to a large population of Red-Footed Boobies.
Playa Pajaros.
Casey and I went walking along the beach and forest trails with Raymond and a few others from our group.
Appie and I, ready for action.
We visited a little cave used by the Taino Indians for ceremonial purposes called Cueva Caritas. It's full of little carvings of faces.
We walked down the beach to Playa de las Mujeres. Casey and I hadn't planned on swimming this day in an effort to honor the Sabbath, but we couldn't resist this scene and jumped in.
After a full day at Playa Pajaros, punctuated by some nap-inducing hammocking, we finished circumnavigating the island back to our campsite at Playa Sardinera, where Casey and I promptly went in search of coconuts. After collecting several, we hauled them back to camp for a fresh coconut feast.
Taking it to the next level, Ronnie and Appie told us about the delicacy of sprouted coconuts, and Ronnie disappeared to gather a few.
Manolo, preparing a sprouted coconut island-style.
Coconut-feasting and preparing dinner on Sunday night.
Our last night on Mona--a truly magical and forever memorable place.
On Monday morning, we traversed the Mona Passage in the Torpedo one last time, back to Puerto Real in Cabo Rojo. Casey took some Dramamine and sat in the middle of the boat, close to the deck, which helped him survive that final crossing. In Cabo Rojo, we gathered our things and hitched a ride with Ronnie and Appie to El Gatito, a nearby restaurant, for some lunch with most of our group and then on to Ramey, Aguadilla, where we'd planned to spend the last two days of our trip.
On our way to Aguadilla we spotted this classy horse transport option.
Ronnie and Appie dropped us off at Mercedes' house (our Airbnb hostess), within walking distance of the Aguadilla Airport. Mercedes lives right on the northwest tip of Puerto Rico and her property backs up to a coastal cliff overlooking Surfer's Beach, one of the best surfing locations in Puerto Rico. She showed us around her place and then started picking papayas and passion fruit for us from her garden. It was spectacular.
Casey, moving in on a freshly plucked papaya and some passion fruit right off the vine. Good stuff.
This flowering tree was called a "Flamboyant" and that it was.
Tuesday morning, our last full day in Puerto Rico, Casey and I geared up for an all-day exploration. We started by hiking down the cliff on a steep, one-lane road, to Surfer's Beach, where we spent time sitting and watching the mesmerizing rhythm of the giant, perfectly-formed tubular waves rolling in to shore.
Starting off on Tuesday's self-guided exploration.
Walking down to Surfer's Beach
The vegetation is so lush and vibrant and colorful.
Casey found this old millstone on the beach.
We decided to follow the coast as it curves around to the north side of the island, exploring the trails and beaches along the way.
A little shipwreck.
The crazy thing was that we saw virtually no one while walking several miles of coastline. This was a little river-like feature created by the incoming tide that we played around in for a while. It was protected from the crashing waves and you could float along in it, lazy-river style. My personal favorite location that we discovered on our expedtition.
We did a segment of overland hiking through undeveloped coastal land and found this little lean-to.
Another abandoned boat. Apparently it's a thing for Dominicans to come to Puerto Rico with the hopes of immigrating to the United States, often navigating dangerous stretches of ocean in little boats like this one.
After walking several miles of beach and coastal trail, we found ourselves in Isabella and decided to do an overland loop back to Ramey, where we were staying, finding a place to eat somewhere along the way since we were famished. We used an online map to locate a road that would allegedly take us through the cliffs and started walking. It was beautiful scenery, but the road was precarious (two-lane, but really just one-lane with traffic flowing bidirectionally), narrow, and cut in a deep gorge surrounded by rainforest. Casey and I tried our best to hug the side of the road (there was no shoulder) because dense vegetation prevented us from leaving the road. Cars were zooming crazily and haphazardly past us . . . and then . . . it started to rain. The torrential kind, naturally, and we were quickly drenched. Good thing it's always warm in Puerto Rico. At this point, I told Casey that we needed to say a prayer (the kind that you deploy to preserve your life, when necessary). Literally a couple of minutes later, a guy honks and pulls up beside us and invites us onto the school bus that he's driving. He was super-friendly and we started communicating in a mix of Spanish and English. We told him where we were headed and he said something like, "Great. I'll take you there! I just have to go pick up a few students in another neighborhood and then I'll drive you guys to Ramey." Are you serious? This would never go over in the U.S. So that's what he did. We drove for a while, picked up a few school kids, and then, with the kids on the bus, he drove us to the neighborhood where we were staying, dropping us off at a restaurant (the Cinco) that he thought we'd like, door-side, leaving us with a friendly, "Remember, you've got a friend in Puerto Rico!" Unreal.
That guy saved us from certain death. For real. We ate heartily at the Cinco, downing several passion fruit punches, sorullitos, and other Puerto Rican delicacies to replenish the hundreds of calories that we'd burned on our all-day expedition. After feasting, we made our way back to Mercedes' house to pack up for our early morning flight home. Our plan was to get up early (our flight left at 5:30 AM), and walk to the airport on Wednesday morning, which was about a mile away. (Mercedes assured us that it was safe.)
More random horses.
Another random boat.
This was the view from the backyard of the Airbnb where we stayed, looking down on Surfer's Beach.
Wednesday morning, we got up early--like 3:30 AM early--and executed our plan, swimmingly, only to find out that our flight was delayed until that afternoon. Not what you want to hear when you get up so early and then walk yourself and all of your bags to the airport on foot. (The reason: a service truck had unfortuitously battle rammed our airplane, leaving a formidable dent.) Luckily, Mercedes let us move back in for a couple of hours to take a nap before we hauled our bags to the airport again.
Everything about Puerto Rico was amazing. Our trip was truly epic and unforgettable in so many ways. We can't wait to go back.
Casey took this photo whilst we were flying over the Bahamas.
Wow!! What a truly epic adventure--the perfect getaway for you two. I love adventure travel dates!
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