We got into some trouble on the Malecón in Puerto Plata, DR the day we arrived. There were over a dozen enthusiastic “witnesses” to the event, and the Dominican Police were eventually called. It’s quite a story, but I’ll save it ’til I tell you about our passage from TCI to the DR.

Providenciales, Turks & Caicos Islands to Cofresi, Dominican Republic (21-Jan to 23-Jan-2013)

We were off to a late start on Monday, January 21st, and were motoring out to Sellar’s Cut by about noon.

It takes a little while to get from Turtle Cove out to the reef – it was a nice motor with the sunshine and clear water all around.

The weather was as forecast when we got out there, and we had a nice trip around the north side of Provo to the west coast of West Caicos in the predominantly east wind. We were using the new jib (it’s not really new – we just haven’t used it before) and were making good progress by the time sun went down.

Phill did a little video shortly after he took the sunset pic. We were hoping to do more of this kind of video log during the passage but as you’ll read shortly, we got too sick and tired to muster the energy.

It was an uneventful night; the wind was from the ESE, which suited us alright at the time. It was a starry beautiful night (no rainbow jellyfish in the sky, mind you, but very nice); we did our four-hour shifts as scheduled. In the morning, the wind increased and shifted due east, so we used it to get south, then it became light later in the day so we motor-sailed a bit.

Everything was going nicely until well after sunset the second night out. The east wind increased and the building seas became confused. When it’s dark and the seas are unpredictable, I seem to get seasick; like can’t-keep-anything-down (even water!) seasick. My head was hung over the gunwales for a good portion of my shifts. Phill – the saint that he is – would let me sleep a lot longer than I was supposed to, which resulted in him becoming very tired himself. So we were quite a pair – ‘Barfy’ and ‘Sleepy’ trying to sail all the way to Samaná Bay at the eastern end of the Dominican Republic.

Phill wisely decided we should pull the chute and head for Puerto Plata instead, about 8 hours away. No argument from me – the prospect of eight hours of being sick was more palatable than another thirty-plus (I was completely miserable). So we changed course and waited for it to be over.

We were excited to see the lights of Puerto Plata in the distance. It was before dawn when we arrived, so we debated doing circles ’til the sun came up to enter the harbour at Ocean World, but Phill thought the channel was well-lit enough to take a crack at it, so we did. The sun was just coming up when we got to the break-water.

I was very impressed by the scenery. The coast is lined with beautiful green mountains, and seemed very lush and tropical.

As we entered the marina, three men motioned to us to tie up at the first dock. By this time it was about 6 am. Communication was difficult – their English was better than our Spanish, but that’s not saying much. They were patient with us though, and we came to understand that customs & immigration would visit us at 8 am. In the meantime, we found an unfortunate passenger had landed aboard sometime during the night.

The dockmaster asked us to move to the slip we’d be staying at the for the night to make room for another boat scheduled to arrive. We moved and tidied up the boat while we waited for customs and immigration. Phill rinsed the salty cockpit and I cleaned up the galley (I was feeling so much better now that the boat had stopped moving).

Here are a couple of pictures of the boat at the slip. See the yellow flag up the mast? It’s a ‘quarantine’ or ‘Q’ flag indicating that the ship requests permission to use the port – to be cleared in – and that there is no disease on board. Once cleared in with customs & immigration, the quarantine flag is replaced with the host country’s courtesy flag.

Four officials – one from customs, one from immigration, one from the Dominican Navy and one from drug enforcement arrived at 8 am sharp. Clearing in went smoothly, no problems. The officials were courteous and professional, in contrast to horror stories we’ve heard about clearing into the DR by boat (we’re learning to ignore other people’s horror stories).

We should probably have known this, but we were surprised to learn that we require a $20 “dispatchio” from the Dominican Navy each time we move the boat in Dominican waters. Not a big deal, just a surprise that we can’t up and leave when we want to – we have to make an appointment with the Navy before we go anywhere.

Paperwork done, we say thank you and goodbye to the officials and very happily go to take showers. We decided that rather than go to sleep, like maybe we should, we’d tour Puerto Plata, perhaps take a gondola ride up the mountain (Pico Isabel de Torres). I’ve probably not told you this, but Phill used to teach scuba diving in Puerto Plata about twenty years ago. I was excited to see some of his old stomping grounds, and today was the only day we’d be able to do it, given that the forecast said we should start the trip to Samaná the next morning.

So I finish my shower, find Phill waiting outside, and he says “I’ve rented a car – it’ll be cheaper than taking cabs all over the place.” We dump our stuff at the boat, and meet the car rental guy, who brought the car to us at the marina. It was a Hyundai Sante Fe, and had air conditioning! What a luxury!

We had a nice drive from Cofresi to Puerto Plata; if our bike wasn’t out of commission (broken spokes), we’d fit right in here. People not only double on their motorcycles & scooters, but they triple and quadruple (if that makes sense)! I saw a family of five all piled on a small motorcycle (little one up front on dad’s lap, and a second and third child between mom & dad on the seat)!

Phill seemed to be able to feel his way around Puerto Plata, and we went to the Malecón (a road/walkway along the waterfront). Here’s someone else’s video from youtube, to give you an idea what it’s like (the guy’s on a motorcycle, so it’s a bit wobbly).

Which brings me to the mayhem. We’re driving along, thinking about stopping at one of the seaside huts for lunch. Two pedestrians step out onto the road, and Phill slows down to let them cross. As they’re crossing, a black and red pick up truck rear-ends us. The guy didn’t even slow down, but the impact didn’t feel that bad. Phill says “This isn’t gonna be good.” and pulls over to the side of the road. The guy driving the pick-up gets out, tries unsuccessfully to close the hood of his truck, and proceeds, with the help of some bystanders, to push it to the side.

It was clear that no one had been injured, thank goodness. I had been eating an apple at the time and wanted to get rid of the core so I walked back half a block to a garbage can, at which time a large group of people gathered around me speaking very rapid Spanish. There were more than ten people, but less than twenty (not sure, but it seemed like a lot of people). I couldn’t really understand anything they were saying except that one kindly looking older man was adamantly trying to convey to me that we should pay no one any money.

One man arrived and said “Parlez-vous français?” and I said “Un peu” and he started trying to tell me something in rapid French, so I said “Un petit, petit peu”. Then he says “English?”, and I say “Yes!”. It was funny at the time, but it’s probably not coming across.

My new interpreter told me that all the nice folks gathered around are willing to be witnesses to the event, and that it was clearly not our fault. The kindly looking older man was indeed telling me to not pay anyone a cent, no matter how sincerely they ask for money. Another enthusiastic man said that if anything like this happens to us again, we should just keep driving (complete with a loud, glancing clap, ending with his right-hand pointing far down the Malecón). Another said we should leave before the police arrive – “Go tell your husband! Go tell your husband!“. I was quite touched by it all – they were so sincerely trying to help us.

Despite all the well-intended advice that made sticking around at the scene of the accident sound like a bad (or at least expensive) idea, I was strangely calm about the whole thing. First of all, we’d never take off from an accident in which we were involved, even if no one was hurt, and secondly, for some reason I was sure justice would prevail.

When I returned to Phill, a man in jeans and a grey T-Shirt appeared to be showing him his I.D.. It wasn’t the driver of the pick-up, so after the man said hello to me and walked down the block a ways, I asked Phill who he was. “He’s a cop! And so is that lady.” The grey t-shirted man had a gun tucked into the back of his jeans, and the lady (and this was only our impression, not to make any sort of judgement here) was dressed and wore make-up that was similar in fashion to “a lady of the night” or “working girl”. We speculated that our little fender-bender happened right in front of a prostitution sting on the Malecón.

Phill called the car rental company, and the guy who brought us the car less than an hour before shows up. He takes a look at the Hyundai – the bumper had only a couple of scratches. The black and red pick-up was out of commission, though; its hood wouldn’t close and the truck wouldn’t start. Another guy (ostensibly from the rental company) arrives and says to Phill as he indicates the black and red truck “You have to pay him something.” to which Phill says quite forcefully “No! He hit me!”

Uh oh. I was starting to worry that maybe justice would not prevail, and that we might have to dig deep in our pockets to put this behind us. Maybe my eyes got wide or something, because the undercover lady officer got my attention and made some gestures that said “Don’t worry about it – everything will be fine.“.

Sure enough, when the the Dominican police arrived (lights flashing, intimidating military-style uniforms and everything) the grey t-shirt undercover officer approached them and apparently explained what was going on. The officers confirmed that no one was hurt, shrugged and made motions to leave. The car rental guy who brought the car to the marina said “It’s okay – you can go.”.

That’s it? We can go? Pheeeew! We felt badly about the guy’s pick-up…but…what are ya gonna do? The police moved their SUV out of the way of the Hyundai, we tried to thank the undercover officers, got back into the truck, started the engine and continued down the Malecón.

That was a heck of a morning after our sleepless/sicky night at sea. Phill was understandably a little tense. We decided to go to Sosua and have lunch on the beach.

Back in Phill’s Puerto Plata scuba instructing days, he’d occasionally bring diving tours to Sosua, so it was a bit of a stroll down memory lane for him. We had a nice lunch and a couple of Presidentes on the beach.

After lunch we toured around the town some – check out the produce!

We went back to the car and started the trip back to Puerto Plata. We decided against the gondola ride because the summit of the moutain was all clouded over, so we went to the hotel complex where Phill used to work.

We left the hotel complex then drove to Phill’s old apartment.

In fact, it looked like it was for rent.

It was nice to see where Phill lived and worked so many years ago, and to be able to visualize the settings of so many of his stories from back then.

We made our way back to the Malecón, and stopped at a place for dinner. It’s much more economical to eat out in DR than in TCI, by the way. There was a man at the table next to us, who seemed interested in joining us. Ramesh was from Toronto, but was born in Uganda, and has traveled all over the world. He had a great interest in doing exactly what we were doing, and was very curious about our travels. After Ramesh and his table companions (his girlfriend, an employee and another man he described as a small-time mafioso – it’s a long story) left the restaurant, we learned that he had paid our entire bill! A very pleasant surprise.

Practically falling asleep at our table, we decided it was time to go home. The Ocean World complex consists not only of a marina, but a casino, bars & restaurants, and a marine animal adventure park. Here’s what it looks like lit up at night.

Not much to tell you after that – we were almost instantly asleep when we got back to the boat (it was probably about 8 pm). Incidentally, we entered a new time zone when entered the DR…we’re now an hour ahead.

We left for Samaná the next morning, but I’ll tell you about that next time.