Iguana Mama - Mountain Biking, Hiking & Ecological Adventures

We continued in a far more relaxed fashion, on a freshly surfaced road that led to the small town of Moca. After loading the bikes onto the trailer, the rest of the day was spent buying provisions at a local market and traveling on to a comfortable hotel on the outskirts of Constanza, deep in the mountains. After the sweat and dust of the trail, a long hot shower and a good meal went down a treat.

The inland is, in fact, very mountainous. The highest point, Pico Duarte (3,079m), is actually the highest point in the whole Caribbean and nearly as high as the major peaks in the Pyrenees. The local people are among the warmest we've ever met and the whole place abounds a culture that blends the laid-back best of the Caribbean with the frenetic and colorful street scenes of Latin America.

After three previous visits and some great day rides from our base in Cabarete, we'd concluded that the best way to really see the Republic was going to be by bike. We joined a five day tour that started near the coast and ran through the mountains before finishing on the coast again, figuring we'd get some great riding in as well as a look at the real Dominican Republic. If day one was anything to go by, we wouldn't be disappointed.

NO BULL!

Photo Credits: Tom Hutton

Believe it or not, it can get cold in the Caribbean in the winter and, at over 1,000m above sea level, the next morning in Constanza felt positively like a crisp spring morning in the Dales. As we set off towards Jarabacoa, a veil of cloud hung stubbornly over the valley and obscured the views of the surrounding mountains. It didn't take long to warm up though; within minutes we were climbing hard on a switchback dirt road that reached high up into the mountains. The scenery was fantastic; green hills and trees seemed to stretch away as far as the eye could see. As the sun rose higher, we had to change tactics, abandoning the obvious line and crossing back and forth across the road, seeking shade at every opportunity. We liased with the back-up van at El Rio, refilled our various hydration systems and enjoyed some free entertainment as a huge bull stampeded through the narrow streets, chased by two small boys and a skinny dog!
From here, it was uphill again but with the promise of a huge descent into Jarabacoa later in the day, we weren't complaining too loudly. This was everything we'd wanted from this trip; the roller-coaster track wound its way around the lush green hillside, linking together countless tiny villages that were often no more than a few colorful shacks set up around a spring or river. Upon hearing our arrival, the streets quickly become lined with people; children waving or giving us high-fives, adults probably wondering why on earth people who could presumably afford cars would be riding bikes up ridiculously steep hills in the midday sun! Always, the greetings were warm and friendly.

Back at the hotel, we enjoyed a Jacuzzi and some great local scoff in a superb riverside setting. It had been tougher than day one but we still felt good. Just as well- tomorrow promised to be even bigger.

REAL HOSPITALITY
The huge climb out of Jarabacoa came as no surprise. This was to be the toughest day and, with no chance to take on extra water, we took it fairly easy. What did come as a surprise was the second climb. At this stage, we had forged on ahead with another rider from the group. We waited for the others and gazed upwards at a dirt track that rose almost vertically from the road, not once imagining that we would be going up it! Fortunately it looked a lot worse than it was, and turned out to be totally rideable, albeit in the granny ring/largest sprocket combo.

This was to be the day of great views; from the top of the climb, the hills stretched for miles in all directions. The gently sloping meadows were peppered with the huge king palms swaying gently in the afternoon breeze. To the south, and many miles away, the skyline was dominated by the dark shadows of the highest mountain range in the Caribbean. We were amazed at how green it all was and not at all surprised when we were told some of the scenes from Jurassic Park were filmed here.

One of the logistical problems of a ride like this is lunch. While its not practical to carry huge quantities of food, Granola bars can get a bit tedious after the first four or five! Mike, a Canadian-cum-honourary-Dominican and the tour's main organizer, has tried to arrange a supply of water and fresh fruit at a village store in the middle of nowhere. He wasn't confident that it would happen, but his fears proved unfounded; we were welcomed in true Dominican style and gorged ourselves on a feast of bread, cheese, tomatoes, bananas and pear juice.

If this wasn't enough, the proprietor then gave us a tour of his home and introduced us to his family. Eventually and reluctantly, we dragged ourselves away and continued the descent towards Santiago, the country's second city.

To avoid road riding we loaded the bikes on to the trailer and covered the last few miles in our van. Our hotel stood on a hill above the town and offered great views across the valley and an excellent restaurant that served the best meal to date and played everything from Deep Purple and Lynyrd Skynyrd to a dodgy rendition of Tell Laura I Love Her.

HORSES' COURSES-PAH!
Day four was going to get us back on the coast again. There were a few different options but, after deliberation, we opted for a mountainous off-road odyssey to La Isabella, the site of Columbus's original landing.
As usual it started with a climb, probably the longest so far, but not too steep. With plenty of shade from the surrounding forest, we made good progress and reached the top in good spirits. After a little banter with a few locals, we took another of those 'Ok for horses but too steep for bikes'-type tracks and again were rewarded, this time with approximately five kilometers of stunning, often technical downhill. From about halfway we could see the ocean again, turquoise blue and glistening in the early afternoon sun.
Despite the difficult nature of the terrain, made all the worse by the previous evening's rain, it appeared that only one person ate dirt as we pushed on towards the coast.
We were too late to watch the sun setting over the sea in La Isabella, but consoled with a long swim in the hotel pool. Our last dinner consisted of locally caught fish, beautifully cooked and served with chips-something we'd all missed over the last few days.

THE END IS NEAR
The last day, though a long one, was to be a little easier, following the coast back to one of the country's main tourist resorts, Puerto Plata. We stopped off at a spectacular, bat-inhabited cave just outside La Isabella and then again, at a very secluded beach. Some of the guys went swimming, others were content just sitting on the soft white sand and watching the waves break on the reef.

We were glad we'd saved our energy-the climb from the beach was fairly technical and we found ourselves shouldering our bikes for the first time on the trip after losing it on some slippery steps. Some of the others did a better job and kept the tour 100 per cent rideable. As expected, the coast was hotter than the mountains and it didn't take us long to polish off our supply of water. Fortunately, the van was waiting for us at Luperon, where we filled up for the last time.

The remainder of the day was an interesting mixture of beautiful beaches and good tracks, broken only by a tricky stretch of single-track that had been chewed up by horses (some things never change!). Apart from a brief encounter with a Godzilla-sized version of a pig, the afternoon flew by without incident, and we met the van at Puerto Plata with time to spare. It was handshakes all round as we celebrated a stunning five days. Tired, muddy, saddle-sore and very happy, we climbed into the van for a final time. The next stop was a hot shower, a good meal and few long cold beers on the beach. We certainly felt we'd earned them.