The road to Playa Cambiaso

This morning began as have the others with a recap of the day before, highs and lows, much coffee, a wonderful cigar and plans for the day.

Johns friend Dennis, a local expatriate from Florida was leading us to an obscure beach called Playa Cambiaso and we were taking the back way.

It wasn’t far in miles but much like a sh*tfaced bar patron,a few steps can actually make up a mile when you add the staggering.

We met at Dennis’ house that he’s owned for a couple years and was actually a failed restaurant that he bought and turned into an amazing bed & breakfast with one incredible view.

We were joined by Peter, another transplant who turned out to be originally from Wales. I commented that I was surprised because I could actually understand him and found out he’d lived all over the place and came most recently from Australia.

He also said this is the last place he’ll ever live and after just a couple of days here I can see why.

If you have even a modest income you can live pretty nicely here. If you can’t afford to own a house, rent is only $30-$40 a month for a decently sized place. So many structures are abandoned but still owned by people looking for anything they can get out of them.

After some pleasantries and a fill up on water we were once again off to the races.

Dennis has been a prolific explorer and was excited to show us the back ways and secret spots on the way to Playa Cambiaso so he led the way.

Once again the boulder roads proved rough but drivable and like drunken sailors we weaved our way along, stopping occasionally for a chat or a picture.

Once in a while I’d race ahead and get some shots of the pack coming up the road. It reminded me of when I was a kid and my neighbors Todd & Ty taught me how to ride dirt bikes in the pastures of central Kansas.

In all honesty, the faster I went, the smoother the ride but I knew at any given moment I could hit a crater and it’d be lights out for moi.

It didn’t happen though and I got some great shots of the group.

Our first stop was an abandoned golf community where the developers were trying to carve out a high end exclusive golf course and housing project but were thwarted by local environmentalists and then left behind.

The road to the communal “hut” was a bit tricky and steep but we made it with minimal fanfare.

As we arrived at the top, the road opened into a wide flat area that looked to me to be a helipad with a gravel palm tree inlaid into the dirt and nothing else.

The view though was incredible so I could see why they wanted the land and the project.

We walked through the woods to the community center where apparently there’s still a group of locals taking care of the property and conserving the former project for some unknown reason. The thought by my companions was that it had been turned into a nature preserve.

We had gotten in through a small gate in the barbed wire fence with a small tip and a handshake by the “guard”, an older gentleman with gnarled and calloused hands from years of obvious labor.

Heading down the path to the lower section of the property the path was a little more challenging with some sandy spots that frankly made me a little incontinent.

You’d never have known though since it was so freaking hot that any liquids leaking out of me would have evaporated immediately.

On second thought, maybe I should have peed on my own feet like the vultures do out on the Kalahari to keep cool.

Kinda gross though and measures were not that desperate just yet.

Some of the sandy spots were deep and most likely are filled with quicksand when the rainy season comes around.

As we made it past the last of the deep sand, you could see the ocean through the trees and what was once a tee box for the golf course. It looked out over what I can only assume was a challenging par 3 and I’m positive there are MANY golf balls at the bottom of the sea there.

What was an ancient lava flow has turned into some amazingly sharp rocks and some of the best fossils I’ve seen in a long time.

There was one spot where you could see the backs of the fish that had been caught in the tidal pool then frozen in time in the sand, the remains of their dorsal fins still sticking out of the rock and the impression of sea flora still embedded for millennia to come.

With the cry of “MOUNT UP!” Coming from back in the woods, Dennis was ready to move on so we got back on our bikes and headed out.

Now, back in the states I’m a prolific motorcycle rider and I don’t know about Todd but my fundament was getting pretty tender with the beating it had taken over the last couple days and I was a bit reluctant but as I had no freaking clue where I was, I had no choice but to either die in the rocks and become a fossil myself or get my tender *ss in gear and get a move on.

I opted for the latter and we were off.

Arriving in Playa Cambiaso approximately four hundred *ss beating years later, we gladly dismounted and glanced around for an open bar.

We were the only ones there.

Being greeted by a gentleman who very nicely put a flat stone under each of our kickstands so we wouldn’t find our motorcycles flat on their sides when we got back, we went in search of cervesas frias.

Another kind man put out a table and chairs for us and ran approximately seven light years away for cold Presidenté as apparently everyone had given up on visitors for the day until we happened upon their little burg(o).

Seeing John emerge from one of the little buildings on the beach I sauntered over to change out of my shorts and skivvies only to be met at the doorway by a husky and irritated woman who’s house it apparently was so I hustled back to the table and changed once more out in el pública, this time making sure my friends weren’t subject to my glowing posterior.

Walking sedately to the shoreline, my pace quickened and became an outright sprint once I figured out that what looked like sand was actually beige flames and the soles of my feet were becoming blistered empanadas only not so nice this time.

Finally making it into the water I waded out, turned around and was treated to one of the most pristine sights of my (very few and youthful) years.

Palm trees waving in the wind, sandy beach unmarred by footprints, beautiful aquamarine water and a local riding his horse down the beach.

He was carrying an armload of pure white towels with a glowing smile on his face.

As I splashed happily out, he rode up and without a glance, rode right by me and into the woods.

Sometimes I’m an idiot.

Sometimes I’m not though and remembering the sands of pure hell I jumped back into the sea and waited for the garçon to arrive with our beers.

We only had one there at one Playa Cambiaso as it was more about the journey than the destination and we were off once more.

Turning off of the blissfully paved road, Dennis led us up a hill to yet another spectacular sight where we could see Luperón, the golf community where we’d just been, the marina where the sailors berth their boats and the amazing shoreline as far as we could see.

Far below were several resorts and incredible beaches and the view (and the wind) could literally take your breath away.

The landscape of the Dominican Republic is dotted with abandoned projects and empty houses and the local expatriates know it as the land of broken dreams.

Riding back through Luperón and down by the beach at Playa Grande there was an empty 400 room hotel that was apparently open as recently as 2012.

Fenced off and empty is was a lonely sight and I could see in my mind families enjoying the beach and meals being prepared in the restaurant, plans being made for excursions and children excited to build castles in the sand.

With Dennis leading the way, we went back to his place by yet another rough riding route down a road I had previously wondered about but hadn’t gone down then jumped in his pool to cool off with the ubiquitous glass of rum, looking out over the valley that seriously looks like the Serengeti with acacia looking trees and cows that from that distance could have easily been wildebeests.

A few giraffes and a rhino or two would have made the landscape perfect.

All in all it was another incredible day. Thanks again to John for the opportunity and Dennis for the good sense of direction.