Pico Duarte is the highest point in the Caribbean and feels like an oasis of quiet and cold. Set 3000meters above sea level it escapes the claustrophobic dome of heat and humidity that traps the majority of Dominican cities in a cloud of deafening noise and general discomfort. Recently I spent four days with a guide and some other volunteers hiking up into the best vacation I’ve taken in this Caribbean paradise. The hike starts in a small campo outside of Jarabacoa called, La Cienega. After a night spent in the park office you spend the first full day climbing through a changing forest starting along a stream lined with bamboo with sketchy bridges patched with old bathrooms signs. After passing through mixed palms with a lush humid tropical feeling, the pines start to appear and the breezes smell sweet of honey and pine.
Just before reaching the first camp we passed the head of the Yaque del Sur, one of the larger rivers that flows through to the south of the country. It was here that I started to realize where I was geographically and started to feel and see the connection between the park we were in and the highway that has a giant bridge crossing this same trickle of water along the southern coast of the country.
The reward for climbing 18km is a well-developed camp fully equipped with flushing toilets and running potable water. The sleeping bunk is a wooden long house and the kitchen could easily hold fifty cooking fires – certainly ready to accommodate the hundreds of Dominican visitors that come up around Christmas time. Before an early bed time, we relished in the simple pleasures of cold fresh air, warm drinks, and good company.
The bright city lights of La Vega and Santiago shined in the early morning darkness as we climbed through the 4am fog of day two. Recognizing I was making space with each step between me and all the stress associated with the heat and commotion down below powered the trudge to the top. We made it just before the sun rose over the crest of the mountains. Hiding out until sun rise our guide Manolo sat protected from the wind behind the statue of Senor Duarte and the Dominican flag. Arriving was cold and windy, but true to the Caribbean, the sun rose and burned off the clouds unveiling a 360 degree view of the sun-kissed tops of the Cordillera Central.
Walking back down the mountain on a seemingly new path in the daylight reveals the skeleton of an old-growth pine forest and the beginnings of the next generation. The result of a forest six years back is breathtaking views for miles and miles as all the trees growing lush aren’t much higher than six or seven feet. We reached the ridge leading to the valley with our camp and could see our destination about five hours before our arrival. The valley was the ultimate prize after a long downhill hike, complete with clear running rivers, sunning rocks and little waterfalls.
The natural cycle of forest fires and re-growth reminded me we were in a park where accidental human caused forest fires are frowned upon. The Dominicans running the park and in charge of tours understand this sentiment and the value of protected areas, but folks living just on the other side of the range still practice slash and burn agriculture. The village I live in sits in the Southern foothills of the exact same mountain range. Farmers climb up into the mountains in search of more rain for their bean crops. I’ve had several conversations with farmers and kids alike as we hike in the hills behind my house and look at the beautiful scenery scarred by acres and acres of burning in preparation for planting. While they recognize the beauty and see the contrast with the burned areas, many feel that they should have a right to plant and use the land in the park which borders the farthest reaching farmland. It is hard to understand why anyone would want to burn such a lush and pure treasure, but when it comes to producing food to feed families I often feel like I don’t have a right to argue. The benefits of national parks and conservation sites are obviously huge and important for a country so rich in natural beauty, but sometimes I wish the economic benefits were more direct, and easier to understand and explain.
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