Ship's Log

We tried to find out as much as we could about Luperon before we arrived, and found people either love it here or absolutely hate it.  Nothing we heard or read  offered a neutral opinion.  Some boats swore they would never return, that the town was filthy and Dominican customs officials resented Americans, demanding outrageous bribes and turning the process into an expensive bureaucratic marathon.  Other people assured us that the locals were lovely and Luperon was a magical place we’d remember forever!  We had no idea what to expect, so when we pulled into the harbor we were armed with small bills and sodas for the officials, a Spanish phrase book, and faith in the idea that if you treat people with some humility and respect, they’ll usually reciprocate.

We shouldn’t have worried so much.  Yes, the customs process was more elaborate than it was in the Bahamas and the Turks and Caicos, but each of the 6 officials we met was courteous and pleasant.  Luperon’s commandancia (the harbormaster), his assistant, and a translator boarded our boat shortly after we arrived to inspect our ship’s papers.  It was a quick, simple process, and when it was nearly through we offered each man $5 and a Coca Cola. The commandancia’s face clouded over and he murmured softly to the translator.  “Uh oh,” we thought, thinking the bribery nightmare had begun.

Then the translator solemnly said: “The commandacia wants you to know that you don’t have to give these things - it is not required.”  We answered that we understood, but wanted to offer them all the same, and there were friendly smiles and the popping of soda cans all around.  SARABANDE was officially welcome in the harbor, and after a couple of trips ashore we had visited the officers of the Department of Agriculture, the Port Authority, and Immigration and all the proper stamps and papers were in place.  Relieved and happy, we set off roaming this bustling little town.

The soil here is a rich, coffee brown, the type of dirt coveted by gardeners around the world.  The land is blessed with incredible fertility and abundant rainfall, and everywhere you look there are giant, glossy-leaved plants competing for every square inch.  So although this country is poor by US standards, Dominicans don't have to rely on expensive imports to feed them; crops and livestock thrive here.  Which is excellent news to us!  We no longer have to hoard and ration overpriced, wilted produce on SARABANDE!  Our money goes a lot further here, and every Tuesday we get up at dawn and head over to the farmer’s market to grab our week’s supply of fruits and vegetables.  We take home all we can carry for around $6 or $7 - the price of one lousy head of cabbage in the Turks and Caicos.  


Of course, things are not sold here the way they’re typically sold at home.  The eggs have never seen the inside of a refrigerator and occasionally have some residual chicken poop or feathers on them. The local honey (sold in recycled old rum bottles) needs to be inspected for bees before purchase.  If you feel like chicken, the one-armed man will cheerfully select a bird from out back, tie up its feet and hand it over.  Or, for a very reasonable 8 pesos ($0.22) more, he’ll kill it, clean it and pluck it for you: money well spent!  The coffee here is so good that our first cup nearly brought us to tears, as did our first fresh pineapple.  Mangos and avocados are just coming into season.  If we’d wanted our eggs cold, our honey filtered, and our meat in styrofoam trays, we could’ve stayed home.  We don’t mind food that’s a little more vivid; we’re eating fresher and tastier even than we did in New York!



There is a flip side to the incredible vitality of the Dominican Republic.  The insects here bigger, smarter and meaner, and they desperately want to come and live with us on SARABANDE - gnats, horse flies, regular old house flies, wasps, mosquitos, and an army of others we've never seen before.  If your swat is anything less than deadly, the bugs just shake off the blow, spit on the ground, and go after you for revenge.


It turns out that reptiles are also abundant here, as we learned one evening while we tidied up the boat for dinner guests.  Brian reached into one of our low galley lockers and found a 4 1/2 foot snake curled up on a cookie tray! 

After a few minutes of quiet, controlled panic, we suited up in all the Snake Safety gear we could gather:  leather barbecuing gloves, shoes, long pants, kitchen tongs, and a big stick that we use to prop open our main hatch. 

It was a ridiculous struggle, and luckily our snake was a fairly mellow guy.  After we managed to zip him into a duffel bag, we paused for some quick research.  After a few minutes on the internet, we were able to identify our snake as a type of boa constrictor common throughout the island of Hispaniola.  Apparently they can swim quite well, and this one must’ve slithered up our boarding ladder one night and made himself at home!   We were relieved to learn that there are no venomous snakes in the Dominican Republic.

“Thank god it's only a boa constrictor,” said Alicia.

“I’m telling our future children that you said that,” Brian replied, wiping snake pee off the floor.

We ferried the duffel bag to shore, wished our much-harassed snake well, shook him free of the bag and ran away without looking back.


We told some of our fellow cruisers in the harbor our snake story.  Instead of comforting words, we heard tales of rats, giant cockroaches, and other snakes swimming, jumping, or flying aboard yachts anchored in the middle of the harbor.  This inspired us to spend the next day checking every single locker onboard for vermin.  We didn’t find anything, but now we're strongly considering a ship’s cat, a ship’s hawk or a ship’s wolverine.

Snakes and bugs aside, hurricane season is here and we've decided that Luperon's our home for the storm season.   The harbor's safe reputation is centuries old; ocean waves can't penetrate here, the bottom is thick, oozy mud that swallows anchors and holds them tight, and the surrounding mangrove swamps offer a soft shore to wash up on if one's anchor does happen to fail.  The high surrounding mountains are an added plus, shielding the harbor from punishing winds.   The cost of living is low, and the country's natural wonders will keep us entertained and amazed for months to come.   We feel good about our decision.

We're not alone in our conclusion:  Christopher Columbus himself anchored here to hide from hurricanes on his first voyage to the New World.  He was so grateful to have found a safe haven from the storms that he named the harbor “Bahia de Gracia” - Thanksgiving Bay.   And in describing the surrounding land to  Queen Isabella in Spain, Columbus raved, “these lands are so greatly good and fertile......there is no one who can tell it; and no one could believe it."  

Over 500 years later, his description is still pefectly apt.