On the fast boat to Los Haitises
After trip to a UNESCO preserve of unique islands, beach beckons
SAMANA, DOMINICAN REPUBLIC— The water is indigo, then turquoise in the light of the rising sun. Behind, an emerald spit of land reaches for the sky, a green oasis, punctuated by a few villas with roofs made of orange, fish-scale-like tiles.
From my balcony at the Gran Bahia Principe Resort on Cayo Levantado, a tiny island in the lee of the Samana Peninsula in the Dominican Republic’s northeast corner, I watch a brightly-painted woodenfishing boat floating lazily in the sheltered waters.
A Dominicano is fishing for the catch-of-the-day. When we embark on the water two hours later, our goal is neither snapper nor grouper, but a 200square-kilometre nature preserve. Los Haitises is a UNESCO-designated biosphere.
Our vessel is a sleek 28-foot Scarab speedboat. The motors roar, the boat smashes through the waves washing the Bahia de Samana. The shores ahead are devoid of human life. The water belongs to us.
After a two-hour crossing, we approach the first of the Los Haitises islands and our skipper throttles back. The boat drifts.
Los Haitises boasts some of the Caribbean’s most significant stands of mangrove and rainforest, 700 plant species, an equal number of bird and animal species, and a collection of tall limestone islands that seem to float above the water.
We glide into the shadow of a massive limestone cave.
Islands grow up almost straight out of the water. A surreal caravan of great camel humps of land plods toward the eastern horizon. They are clad in vegetation in many shades of green; liana vines hang down and sway in the wind from heights of 200 feet. The vegetation is so thick on shore, you feel like you’re in the middle of the Amazon.
Our skipper nudges the throttle and we pull into the lee of one towering behemoth. “High islands,” he murmurs. “Los Haitises.”
Directly overhead nest a flock of frigate birds, throats red as McIntosh apples. A hundred pelicans float on the water.
Our skipper guides the boat into a green tunnel, a mangrove swamp where the branches meet overhead, where the arching roots and glittering water make you feel as though you are entering the nave of a great cathedral. And we haven’t even seen the caves yet.
We head back to open water, turn toward unbroken forest fronted by a rickety dock, the lime-painted park office and a wooden boardwalk leading into the first cave. Inside the cave, it is wonderfully cool. I scan the ceiling with my flashlight. A bat twitches and squeaks in complaint. A section of limestone roof has fallen in ahead. Sun streams onto the cave floor, spotlighting stalagmites. Dripping water sounds. On one wall, we see our first cave painting: red and black, reminiscent of a kindergarten art project, but for the fact it’s graced this chamber since before Columbus got here. More than 1,000 pictographs and 200 petroglyphs have been located in the area. Some seem innocent, some ominous. “El Brujo,” the sorcerer, is evocative of black nights when evil spirits roamed this dense jungle landscape. My imagination, coupled with my claustrophobia, overtakes me. I exit the caves at a quick-march and await my comrades. Later, we make way on the boat for open waters. Winds blow at 20 knots. Waves roll and roil. One of our party huddles in the stern, her face buried in a plastic bucket. Our skipper grins maniacally, showing off a gleaming gold tooth. He jams the throttle forward. The boat smashes the waves. My drink spills all over me. The boat’s bow rises up impossibly, crashes onto the flat behind an oncoming wave with a spine-jarring thud. Los Haitises grows smaller off our stern while Samana looms ahead, and the beach of Cayo Levantado basks in the sun off our port bow. A room with a view awaits me there with a hot tub next to a seaside infinity pool. We’re less than100 km from Punta Cana’s beaches as the frigate bird flies, but we are 1,000 kilometres away in mood. This is the unspoiled Dominican Republic. Mark Stevens is a freelance writer. His trip was sponsored by Dominican Republic Tourism.