Island Healthcare: Tales from Four Years of Cruising

When you live in the islands long enough, you understand that some things are just handled differently here. Healthcare is one of those things.

We are a healthy family. Even so, as we’ve been cruising, we have had the unplanned joy of medical needs in the Bahamas, Turks and Caicos, Dominican Republic and Grenada. Here’s how they played out:

Bahamas

• Bean up the nose extraction. Yep, you read that right – a dry black bean up Claire’s nose. Have you read that story? If not, you should. It’s a real treat.
• Stomach ulcer

Turks and Caicos

• Severe allergic reaction to poisonwood (from a tree in the Bahamas, right before we crossed over to Turks)

Dominican Republic

• Dental filling
• Pediatrician Checkup

Grenada

• Ear infection
• Dental crown
• Dental surgery (teeth extraction. Yes, multiple)
• Kidney stone

Apparently, we like to spread the wealth when it comes to our health. But it has allowed us to gain a real perspective into island healthcare.

Cheap Routine Visits and Unexpected Costs: A Black Bean Tale

Generally speaking, in the Eastern Caribbean, WhatsApp is one of your primary means of communication. It is perfectly normal, sometimes preferred, to message your doctor’s office. Specialists have set appointments, but general practitioners often do walk-ins, which is what we have done with our primary care physician in Grenada. In the States, this would lead to people crowding in as soon as the office opens, and getting angrier and more chaotic as the day goes on. We’ve never waited more than half an hour here to be seen.

Healthcare is generally cheaper in the islands – which is why a lot of cruisers don’t have international health insurance. Paying out of pocket is reasonable – though there are caveats – but understand that there are often two prices. There’s the local rate, and the cruiser/tourist rate.

In Grenada, certain places will accept your boat papers as proof of temporary residence, and they will give you the local rate. Let me tell you – it is not a direct conversion. For example, let’s say that you need a test done, like a CT scan, and the hospital quotes a local price of $1,400 Eastern Caribbean dollars. This is roughly $518 U.S. If you’re not a local, they will simply change the currency – in that the price becomes $1,400 U.S. dollars. That’s CRAZY! But true. When I needed a CT scan done here, I had to call around to two or three places and go with the one that would take our boat papers.

Another consideration in island healthcare is that while the level of care is definitely high, the smaller islands are limited in their technologies, and that can lead to incredible extra costs. Let me give you another example. Back in the States, if a lovely 4-year-old decided to stick something up their nose, you would take them to the local urgent care facility, where they inevitably have the tool that sucks it right out, because it’s a fairly common problem. You may pay up to $200 for the visit. Our lovely Claire decided to do this after we had crossed to the Abacos, in the Bahamas – an extremely remote cluster of islands. We took Claire to two or three local clinics, a transportation feat in and of itself up there, and lo and behold, nobody had the sucker tool.

Claire in her “hospital costume,” as she called it, at the hospital in Nassau, Bahamas, right before they put her under to take the black bean out.

To make a very long story short (read the full post here), in order to get the bean out, I had to fly with Claire from Marsh Harbor to Nassau, take a cab straight to Doctor’s Hospital there, and Claire had to be put under in the operating theater for them to surgically remove it. The bills from the flights, hotel stay, clinics and hospital added up to more than $3,000 U.S. We. Were. Not. Pleased.

My kidney stone, which came to light in Grenada, was another matter that was beyond the scope of island healthcare, due to the size of the stone. Because I needed advanced technologies to break it up and remove it, it was simply an impossibility to get it removed here, so I had to add on the cost of an international flight back to the States to get that sorted. More on that later. Isn’t this fun?

Generally speaking, though, if you have common or routine health issues, you can easily get those sorted in the islands, and at a better price. In the States, you are given the most robust care without question and charged handsomely for it.

This is the clinic on Staniel Cay, Exumas, Bahamas, where I received meds for a stomach ulcer. This is pretty standard for the remote clusters of islands there. They can handle the most basic needs of the small population. Image from gibraltarstanielcay.com.

I visited the clinic on the remote island of Staniel Cay in the Exumas, Bahamas, to get medicine for what I was fairly certain was a stomach ulcer. The clinic looked frozen in time about 20 or 30 years past, and the drug reference manual the nurse used was definitely more than 10 years old. She also searched the recommended drug from the manual on Drugs.com – though let me say that the fact that she had working Internet in the office was pretty impressive. However outdated the whole experience was, it ultimately was just what I needed: She prescribed the right drugs, I took them and got better. $40 U.S. for the visit, another $10 for the drugs.

When Aaron went in for a filling in the Dominican Republic, he got comfortable in the chair, and the dentist immediately got to work. “Whoa!” Aaron said. “Aren’t you going to numb me up first?” She said that if it started to hurt, he should let her know, and then she’d give him some novocaine. He wound up not needing it after all, and the overall cost for the filling was minimal.

Last season in Grenada, I found myself needing to get two teeth extracted, one of them being a wisdom tooth. In the States, many people opt to be knocked out for this. That simply wasn’t an option for me here. The oral surgeon assured me that she would use plenty of novocaine so that I wouldn’t feel anything during the surgery. I would hear it, of course – that’s a sound I’ll never forget.

In the States, before they give you the shots, they swab your gums with lidocaine, so the shots themselves aren’t as painful. No such luck of that here in Grenada, either. So, I felt all 10-12 shots of novocaine into my gums. But again – though it’s not as if I’d love to feel that every day, ultimately, I was fine. The initial visit, x-ray, surgery, post-surgery medications, and follow-up visit, all came out to about $600 U.S.

Sure, if given the option, many people would opt for all painkillers possible, and would happily pay the extra costs. But some, like Aaron and me, may not. And these decisions can significantly impact your overall costs.

Hospital Visits: Guinness for all?

Now let’s talk hospital visits. Doctor’s Hospital in Nassau, Bahamas, operated very similarly to a U.S. hospital, except for the fact that a significant portion of the estimated overall bill was required upfront before any treatment would be administered. Other than that, Claire and I spent the better part of the day in a boring but decently equipped space in the emergency room. We moved up to the surgical wing, and again, the facilities were well outfitted – sheets on the beds, disposable surgical gowns, etc. It may seem silly that I’m making this distinction, but it’s for good reason.

In Grenada, there are two main hospitals in St. George’s, the capital city. There is the general hospital, and St. Augustine’s Medical Services (SAMS). All medical care at the general hospital is free, including for tourists/cruisers, whereas SAMS is private, and medical care is priced accordingly.

St. Augustine’s Medical Services, the private hospital in Grenada. I had my CT scan done here. I took the dinghy to shore, walked to the #2 bus, transferred to the #4 bus, and walked up the road to get here. Not so relaxing of a commute with a kidney stone. Image from NowGrenada.com.

So why go to SAMS? Why not just go to the general hospital? Because absolutely nothing is provided at the general hospital. Patients bring their own pillow and sheets for the beds, their own hand soap for the bathroom, their own toilet paper. Yes, you read that correctly – even if you’re rushed in in an emergency situation, a friend or family member must collect those items for you and bring them in on your behalf.

Side note: There is also an area in the general hospital where you can donate blood. In other countries, when you give blood, you are usually given snacks and juice to help replenish your iron count. At the general hospital in St. George’s, there’s a cooler filled with Guinness. Not a joke. This is what they give you (I’m assuming this is just for adults?) to help replace your iron count after donating.

For more straightforward needs, like getting a cast on a broken arm, or more routine surgeries, the care at the general hospital is just fine, and you can’t beat the price.

To Insure or Not To Insure? A Kidney Stone Tale

Throughout our four years of cruising, we’ve gone back and forth on whether or not we needed health insurance in the States. We knew we were never going to pay for international healthcare – the costs were too high, and the out-of-pocket expenses in the islands were generally minimal. Though we visited family and friends back home once a year, we likely still met the exemption of being out of the country more than 330 days a year, so we wouldn’t be charged the penalty if we didn’t enroll for healthcare.

Some people sign up for travel insurance through the Divers Alert Network (DAN), either on its own or in tandem with other plans, to cover the extreme need for someone to be medevaced out of the islands. (As a side note, sales of all insurance plans through DAN have been suspended, likely due to covid.) We opted against this as well, but we decided to keep a bronze-level plan through the Healthcare Marketplace in the States, in case of emergency.

This wound up being my lifeline for treatment for my kidney stone.

I started having strange stomach pains a year prior, and had seen a doctor a few times to sort it, to no avail. After a near trip to the hospital in early January due to severe pain, I knew I needed answers. I was able to schedule a CT scan at SAMS and a few days later, they sent over the summary of results. Wouldn’t you know it – there was my kidney stone. All 8mm of it.

I needed a urologist. The problem was, this is Grenada, and there is only one urologist on the entire island. Because there is only one urologist on the island, he is extremely busy.

The urologist, mind you, is also one of the general surgeons on island, and also attends international conferences, sometimes sending him off-island two or three weeks at a time. I called the urologist’s office and spoke to the receptionist. Send an email, she said – he is booked solid for the next two months, but we will try to fit you in if there’s a cancellation.

Over the course of the next two months, I did everything I could to get in. My GP called on my behalf, and also had me get the complement of tests done that she knew he would ask for. I emailed my results over. I called regularly. Sometimes someone would answer, sometimes the mailbox was full. At the time, they hadn’t shared the WhatsApp number for the office with me.

This Manchineel tree looks harmless enough, but it packs a bad punch. These are scattered along many of the beaches throughout the Caribbean. Poisonwood is another tree in the same family, more prevalent in the Bahamas. Aaron happens to be very, very allergic, and coming into contact with some of the sap left him headed to the clinic in Turks and Caicos for more powerful meds than we had on board.

Why didn’t I just show up at the office and demand to be seen? Because unlike in the States, where you can often strong-arm your way into getting what you want, it doesn’t work that way here (should it really work that way anywhere?). You wait, like everyone else.

In early March, recognizing that I may never get in, I started looking at other options. I reached out to a urologist in St. Lucia, thinking that it would be easy enough to sail there. He was immediately responsive, but told me he didn’t have the technology on island to treat me. He referred me to a medical tourism outfit in Martinique.

I contacted the company and received a reasonable quote from them, but they informed me that they wouldn’t be able to schedule anything for at least two weeks. You see, it was Carnival, and the whole island shuts down for more than a week to celebrate. If I wanted it sorted quickly, I started to realize that the States may be my only option.

Then I received the Hail Mary of messages – the Grenadian urologist had a cancellation and could see me that afternoon! We dropped everything and made sure I was at the office on time, early even. He was very nice, very knowledgeable, and patiently went through my CT summary with me.

He then said, “Unfortunately, I don’t have the equipment on island to handle a kidney stone of this size. You’ll need to fly to the States for this.” I will say that once I had that appointment, the staff gave me their WhatsApp information, and they’ve been much more responsive ever since.

So after three months of trying here in the islands, I booked flights to Chicago for the following week. The rest, as many of you know, is history – wrapped up in the beginning of a pandemic. When I flew back to Grenada right before the airport closed, I was still recovering from surgery.

Every cruising or traveling family makes their own decision about healthcare insurance. Should we pay monthly for something we will likely never use? It’s a great question. I do know that if we hadn’t, we would be digging out from a $35k hole – U.S. dollars.

Drugs: You need ’em, They Got ’em

The last element to island healthcare that I don’t want to go unmentioned is the availability of drugs. Many people encouraged us to trick out our on-board medical kit as much as possible before departing the States. It was for good reason, given that our first stop after leaving the U.S. was some of the most remote islands we’ve been to.

Some families luck out and work with a doctor that understands what they’re trying to achieve with this lifestyle, and helps them safeguard for it. Inherently, though, you’re asking a doctor to prescribe meds for something that hasn’t happened yet, or may never happen. Antibiotics, for instance, if you find yourself off-grid and somebody gets an infection.

The closest I was able to get to this in the States was finding a doctor at a clinic in Georgia who was willing to see each of us for $150 U.S. per person. She would then prescribe one round of antibiotics for each, for a future occurrence.

We passed and decided to take our chances. In doing so, I learned two things since we’ve been out here:

1. It turns out drugs, like food, are everywhere. They may not be the same specific brand, but the generic is almost always available.
2. For better or worse, other countries are nowhere near as strict about dispensing them.

When we were in the Dominican Republic, we became great friends with another family from the States (s/v Freedom, we miss you!). Summer, the mom, is a nurse, so I asked her to help me outfit my medical kit. What would you prescribe for various issues? Which antibiotics for what? What about more robust painkillers? Something for ear infections? Etc.

She wrote them all out for me on a slip of paper, and off I went to the pharmacy in Luperon. I wasn’t sure what they would say – never mind that my high school and college Spanish lessons hadn’t covered much detailed medical jargon – but I had heard that they weren’t as strict as the States.

I slid the paper over to a nice gentleman, who reviewed it for a few minutes. He then pointed to each one.  “¿Cuantos?” “How many?”

Not only did he have them all, but he filled them all for me, and for next to nothing in cost. Now I’m not saying that this is the best policy. Likely, it would be somewhere in the middle, where medical professionals aren’t just handing out drugs, but they’re also not demanding hundreds of dollars in visits just to get to the scripts. I will say that I was so grateful that day, and felt so much more comfortable cruising remotely, knowing that we had what we needed to handle many basic things ourselves.

In many of the countries in the Eastern Caribbean, scripts are still required – but the fee for the doctor’s visit to get them is minimal, and it’s generally a much more efficient process overall.

So there you have it. A small glimpse, or our personal tales, if you will, from four years of nomadic living. We definitely didn’t set out to learn this much about island healthcare. My hope is that we don’t learn more.

Samana for Holiday Season

This past month has been just the reintroduction to cruising life that we needed to fuel our fires for adventure.

Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel when handed in the keys to our Cabarete rental and moved back on board in Luperon. We had settled in Cabarete and made a comfortable life for ourselves there. As much as I was ready to travel and see new things, I couldn’t help but remember our hardships from the first year, specifically the last sail we had done, crossing from Turks and Caicos to the DR. I still shudder thinking about that sail.

We provisioned and readied the boat, waiting for the first weather window to Samana, and we jumped on it, tossing lines at around 1 a.m. to begin our passage in calm seas. The 30-hour sail east and around to Samana Bay was just perfect. The seas were settled enough that Claire and I avoided getting seasick on our first passage out in months – a miracle! And the winds were enough to allow us to sail with the engine off for almost the entire trip. We pulled into our slip at Puerto Bahia Marina at around 8 a.m. and settled in for a wonderful three weeks of luxury while we waited for our window to cross to Puerto Rico.

Puerto Bahia Marina was true decadence, with more than five pools at our disposal, a gorgeous open-air lobby, a billiard’s room, a kid’s club, tennis courts, restaurants and more, all at a reasonable daily rate. We rented a car and drove to El Limon to hike to the biggest waterfall in the DR, enjoying a well-deserved late lunch in Las Terrenas afterward. We sailed across the bay to anchor in Los Haitises National Park for two nights and enjoyed absolute paradise. We swam off the back of the boat, paddled in breathtaking bays and up rivers through mangrove forests. We explored caves and took an epic dinghy ride to Paraiso Cano Hondo, an eco-resort carved into the mountainside on the edge of the park.

We celebrated Christmas with dear cruising friends and spent New Year’s Eve dancing like crazy twentysomethings with old friends and new friends we had met in Cabarete who came to ring in the new year with us.

And as we recuperated after our celebrations, the weather gods aligned, and our window to cross to Puerto Rico opened up. Crossing the Mona Passage is something we had read horror stories about, something I, at least, was dreading. There are numerous sites that explain what makes the Mona so treacherous far better than I could succinctly impart here. Even in the best of weather windows, we were told, be prepared to be uncomfortable. And as usual, anything could happen out there – as it had for our friends just a week prior.

But once again, we were blessed with a wonderful passage. We left our slip at Puerto Bahia at 3 p.m. and sailed out of the bay with a beautiful sunset in our wake. The winds were light, which is part of what made it a desirable weather window, so we motorsailed for the duration of the 24-hour run. And sure, the seas were confused and uncomfortable at times, with some bigger swells – Claire and I both felt it. But in the big picture, it was as uneventful as we could have hoped for. During our night watches, a bright moon and starry sky lit the way. We rounded Isla de Desecheo in the early afternoon and dropped the hook in Puerto Real, Puerto Rico well before sunset.

I was sad to leave the Dominican Republic. It’s a country that has settled in our souls, where we felt at home, and where every place we found was more beautiful and more memorable than the last. We made wonderful friends there and made that invisible transition from visiting to just being. As we readied the boat for these passages, though, my wanderlust kicked in, my desire to see new places and explore and get out there.

That sadness melted away because of a simple fact that became so clear. We are not done with the DR. We will be back – maybe for next hurricane season, maybe to set up camp when we decide we are done cruising. I don’t know in what way, but I know the DR is already written into what’s to come.

For now, a whole new season of adventure is off to a perfect start.

So began our beautiful hike to El Limon waterfall. More than an hour uphill through muddy, rocky paths filled with horse manure. But it was worth it!

Part of the path, crossing the river

The smaller waterfall on the way to El Limon

El Limon

After our hike, we drove to Las Terrenas for lunch, and this cute little cafe called Good Food was true to its name and just my style.

Christmas on Clarity!

Testing out her kitty headphones. These have already gotten tons of use during passage, when that pesky loud engine drowns out pretty much everything.

Our sail to Los Haitises National Park, where we spent two nights at anchor

Clarity at anchor in Los Haitises

Our friends on s/v Moxie!

Our first day, we took a gorgeous dinghy ride up a river through a mangrove forest to an eco-resort.

Once the dinghy was secured, we had a 15-minute walk to the entrance of the resort.

Welcome to Paraiso Cano Hondo. We had no idea what to expect here and we were absolutely blown away by the unparalleled beauty here.

Visitors are encouraged to swim in all of the pools at the bottom of these waterfalls, which weave their way throughout the entire property.

The lodging is built into the mountainside, with hiking paths all around. This is just one of countless breathtaking views.

Can you spot Aaron and Claire?

This seems like a good spot to relax before our walk back to the dinghy.

The landing dock to explore some of the caves in the park. We got here early and had it all to ourselves before the tour boats from the cruise ships in Samana descended.

The paddling here was the best we’ve ever done, all accessible right from where we were anchored. Picturesque coves, majestic cliffs, secret rivers…. A whole other world.

Me ducking to clear branches in the secret river.

Finally, we were able to swim off of our boat! The water in Luperon wasn’t clean enough and we were in a marina in Samana, so this was an absolute treat.

Our sunset sail back to the marina.

Fun floaty time at just one of the many pools at the marina!

Claire contemplating chess with her good friend Mojo from s/v Freedom.

The second-story pool overlooking the marina.

Exploring Samana by motoconcho!

Samana bay

Our marina even had tennis courts, with racquets and balls for guest use. It was our first time on the court in at least two years, but we had a blast!

New Year’s at the marina! We had some wonderful friends that we met in Cabarete come and celebrate with us.

How many kiddos can we fit in Clarity’s salon?

New Year’s Day chinese feast at the restaurant in town.

One of many gorgeous Samana sunsets…

Kindergarten in Cabarete

Claire and Sarah, the founder of 3 Mariposas

There’s a magic that happens when school isn’t just a place you go, but the best part of your day. When you cherish your teachers as much as you love your classmates. When you become part of the culture of your community, not because of a lesson plan or a school assembly, but simply by the nature of those around you.

3 Mariposas Montessori has been that magic for Claire.

When we made the plan to stay in Cabarate for the height of hurricane season, enrolling Claire in school here was a top priority. We knew a classroom setting would be a nice break from homeschooling (for all of us), and also, we knew she would be immersed in the culture here in an authentic way. After reaching out to three or four schools in the area (Cabarete and Sosua are home to a diverse international community), 3 Mariposas Montessori seemed like a perfect fit. We enrolled Claire in the half-day program for their kindergarten class.

3MM was founded by Sarah Ludwig-Ross, a dreamer originally from the Midwest who has a wonderful vision and a contagious, happy aura. This video explains the mission of the school. Half of the students are accepted on full tuition and the other half receive full scholarships, many from La Cienaga, the neighborhood in Cabarete where the school is located.

Classes are taught in English, but students hear both English and Spanish throughout the day. For many of the students from the local community, Spanish is their first language, and some of the staff members who assist with the students speak only Spanish, though 3MM is supporting their study of English. Free play in the afternoons is inherently an enriching blend of both, and Claire’s classmates are from the Dominican Republic, the United States, Argentina and France, just to name a few countries.

Claire has two main teachers – Miss Patty and Miss Farah – and she loves them both dearly. Born in Italy, Patty spent much of her adult life in Michigan before joining 3MM. Her passion for teaching and for her students is clear from the moment you meet her. Farah was born and raised in Haiti and is fluent in Spanish, English, French and Creole. She is patient beyond comprehension, quiet but with such a commanding presence, and one of the kindest, most welcoming spirits we’ve ever met.

The school itself is a wonderland. Nestled on the edge of La Cienaga, the building is a turquoise and lime green oasis surrounded by lush trees and flowering vines. Classrooms are warm and inviting, with hardwood floors and powder blue walls, and they open out to a communal space unlike any we’ve seen in the States.

The students have freshly prepared meals, like handmade pasta, salad and chinola juice, in an outdoor lunchroom, and everyone participates in the clean-up. A smaller, treehouse-like version of the main building serves as the library, where Claire’s class has quiet time and reads together. Students can check out books and the collection includes texts in various languages. Claire recently signed out a French comic book.

All of these areas hug an open space that Claire never wants to leave. The backyard, for lack of a better word, has an obstacle course and a climbing wall. There’s a zipline and a cradle swing. Students and staff help maintain and collect eggs from the chicken coop at the back of the property, though the chickens saunter pretty much everywhere. And a koi pond is one of the newest additions to the school.

Claire has had so many enriching experiences at 3MM – from a field trip spent clearing trash in the local community to student-led presentations for Diversity Day. Claire’s Spanish vocabulary has grown considerably, as has her confidence in speaking it. She and her classmates have made erupting volcanoes, baked coconut cookies, learned about parallelograms, and followed the trail of a friendly neighborhood snake. And back at home, Claire sings Panama’m Tombe, a Haitian children’s song that she learned from Miss Farah, while doing most everything – swimming, coloring, falling asleep.

Claire started school on Aug. 21 and her last day is today, Dec. 1 – two weeks before the semester officially ends for a holiday break. Though it’s only been three-and-a-half months, this place has rooted itself in the hearts of all three of us. Somehow, I just know we’ll be back.

Claire’s Classroom

Claire with Miss Farah and Junice, one of her favorite classmates

The Lunchroom

Claire and Miss Patty

The Backyard

Chicken Coop!

The Library

Claire and Aurelky, another one of her favorites! Aurelky is from the Cienaga neighborhood in Cabarete

Cleaning up La Cienaga

Boarding the guagua for a field trip to Puerto Plata to visit a home decorated for Christmas and celebrate Dominican traditions for the holiday season. (Check out those curtains on the windows!)

Diversity Day

So, what now?

Claire playing hopscotch on the sandbags on Cabarete Beach, two days after Hurricane Irma rolled through.

It’s a question we’ve been getting a lot lately. A question we’ve asked ourselves a lot lately. Really, it’s been a common theme for the last three months.

So what now? Who knows. This hurricane season has been the epitome of anything goes, living life as it comes at you.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written more than a Facebook update. I’d start to write about getting settled in Cabarete, and then Hurricane Irma came. I tried to get my thoughts down about that, and then Hurricane Maria came.

Yep, we had two hurricanes in the DR this season, bringing our grand total to three hurricanes in 13 months (the third being Matthew at the beginning of October last season). The season is basically done, but our luck is astounding, so who knows what might happen. I do know that there are things we can check off of the bucket list now that I didn’t even know were on it.

The entrance to Playa Grande in Luperon, just a few hours after the worst of Irma had passed.

What can I say about the hurricanes. The first, Irma, was awful – not so much during, but the preparation and stress beforehand. I flew to Chicago for my grandmother’s funeral the weekend before it hit. While I spent the time with my family, Aaron had to do all of the boat prep himself, which is a massive job, all while managing Claire. (A million thank yous to the Luperon community for offering any help Aaron needed, with the boat and with Claire, while flying solo.) I caught the last flight back into Puerto Plata before they closed down the airport. Yes, I flew into an oncoming hurricane, and didn’t even question it. You do these crazy things as a parent.

At the last minute, we decided to ride out Hurricane Irma with the Moxie crew at Casa del Sol, a hotel in Luperon just a five-minute drive from the bay. The owner was unbelievably gracious and her daughter and niece were so sweet to our kiddos. Believe it or not, I have such fond memories of those two days, you know, despite the hurricane.

We rode out Irma at a hotel in Luperon near our boat with our dear friends on s/v Moxie, not sure how close the eye was going to come to shore, and not sure how Clarity would fare in this hurricane hole that so many people had said was the safest in the Caribbean. Luperon was true to its reputation. At no point, even during the height of the storm, did I feel unsafe in our hotel room, and the boat made it through with no issues. Sure, we lost power, running water and cell service – but we were fine. In an amazing feat of parenting by both me and Aaron, Claire even called it the “best day ever!”

What? ANOTHER hurricane? That’s just whack.

Seeing how things progressed during Irene, we weren’t as concerned when Maria started developing a week later and tracking toward the DR. Still, preparations needed to be made at the boat once again. We also decided to ride out the storm at our condo just off the beach in Cabarete, an hour and a half away, so we also had to prepare there. And of course, as luck would have it, my mother had just flown in to visit us and was given the unexpected gift of experiencing a hurricane while in town. Maria stayed enough offshore for us to once again only experience tropical storm winds (as opposed to hurricane force), and while there was a lot more rain, the wind gusts weren’t as strong. The power went out, but the back-up generator for our condo development kicked on immediately. The boat, once again, handled Maria beautifully with Aaron’s careful arrangement of two anchors, and the mooring, which we had made earlier in the season and consisted of two 50-gallon drums of concrete, buried in the mud.

Aside from some flooding and downed trees, the DR weathered the hurricanes with few problems and everything was back to normal in days. However, as everyone knows, the rest of the Caribbean was not as lucky and suffered major devastation – especially our planned cruising grounds for this coming season. Come November, we had planned to be back on the boat readying her for sailing, and to sail to Samana, on the east coast of the DR, as soon as possible. From there, the plan was to head over to Puerto Rico to replace our saildrive (remember that awesome problem from last season?). Once that was done, we would provision and continue on to the Spanish Virgin Islands, the BVIs and beyond!

The waves on the beach at our condo turned into raging rapids at the height of Maria. The surge made it up to the lawn in between the beach and our building, but did not reach our condo.

Or not.

So what now?

First things first, with our cruising plans completely blown out of the water, we decided to extend our stay in Cabarate by a month, until Dec. 1. I’ll write another post soon on how life has played out here, but with no plan yet on how to proceed once we were back on Clarity, keeping Claire in a school she loves, staying in a place we love, with our amazing community here, both locals and cruisers, was a no-brainer.

Stay in Cabarete longer? But we’re so miserable here…

Aaron started researching any other options of locations to replace our saildrive – something we absolutely had to do to feel confident sailing any substantial distances. Though Puerto del Rey, where we had planned to have the work done in Puerto Rico, only suffered minor damage during Maria, it’s been unclear whether having the work done would be realistic. A marina on the south side of the DR has a big enough lift for us and their staff is certified for the type of work we need. As Aaron continues his conversations with both places, where we decide to get the work done will become clearer.

Unfortunately, in a really sad turn of events, my stepmother passed away suddenly a few weeks ago due to a stroke, and I was reminded again of one of the big challenges of living this lifestyle – being so far away from family in times of need. I flew back to Chicago last-minute to spend time with my dad while Aaron again held down the fort here. Two deaths and two hurricanes in roughly three months. I think we’ve had enough.

So, here’s what we do know. Once we move back on board Dec. 1, we will provision the boat and make final preparations for sailing, including installing some new navigation systems Aaron put together and I brought back with me from the States, and getting the bottom cleaned. (There is some serious growth on the hull, with Clarity hanging out in the Luperon Bay, immobile, for six months. I can’t believe it’s been six months!!)

Then, when the boat is ready and we get a favorable weather window, we will sail to the Puerto Bahia Marina in Samana. Likely, we will spend Christmas and New Year’s there, exploring the peninsula, before moving on to either the south coast of the DR or Puerto Rico at the beginning of the new year.

After that will be very touch and go. Some amazing resources have been created by cruising friends of ours on s/v Scallywag with SailorsHelping.org to help us cruisers get the most updated information on how the Caribbean islands that were affected by this season’s hurricanes are recovering. This will help determine our route, as will the availability of dependable WiFi, which I need to continue working remotely.

It’s a common saying in cruising life that you experience the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, and this hurricane season was no exception. We’re ready to say goodbye to our life on land, shake off the dust, and get back out to sea.

Where to? Who knows…. Isn’t that part of the fun?

Driving in the DR

Too soon? She’s pretty tall for her age.

Imagine that you are in a street racing video game. Add livestock.  Add many potholes. Include lots of motorcycles that don’t follow any rules of the road. Prize for winning? You get to do it again tomorrow.

Driving in the DR is absolute insanity, and each area of the country has its own quirks. It’s like unlocking different areas and levels within the game. Luperon and the surrounding country roads are more rural, so way more livestock crossings. Also, the roads are terrible, i.e. constant potholes. Like doing the moguls with your car. Santo Domingo? At least five lanes of gridlock traffic each way, roadway signs that make no mention of the actual road or area to which you are exiting, and everywhere is a turn lane – in either direction – including sudden u-turns. Oh, and a steady chorus of honking, as leaning on your horn is as commonplace as slamming on your brakes. On the flip side, driving in the mountains has you doing so many switchbacks that your brakes start smoking, making your kiddo ask why the car smells funny.

Here’s a video to give you an idea, and then after, we’ll include some rules of the road to make your adventures as successful and fulfilling as ours have been.

Sadly, this photo does not capture the elusive fifth lane, to the right of the truck.

Okay, so now that that leisurely Sunday drive through a local town is out of the way, here are some specific guidelines that you can follow regardless of where in the DR you are driving:

• Two-lane roads are really three-lane roads, with the middle lane marker being a free-for-all third lane for passing, though sometimes people also pass on the shoulder, though it’s usually not a shoulder, per say, but more like a ditch. So a five-lane road then. The two actual lanes, the middle passing lane, and the less-established shoulder lane in each direction.
• Traffic lights are optional. Don’t feel like waiting? Merge right out into oncoming traffic whenever you feel ready. Others will certainly get out of the way.
• I’ve seen some red signs that look like stop signs but nobody seems to stop at them so I think they are lawn ornaments.
• Drinking while driving – technically illegal. Will you get pulled over for it? Nah. At the gas stations here, they sell cold beer and will open it for you and put it in a little paper bag for your trip. So thoughtful! Besides, the police have better things to check your car for, like weapons and drugs.
• Park wherever you want. Literally. I mean, the cabs will actually pull to a complete stop in middle of the main lane of a two-lane road to let customers out. And they may wait there a few minutes to see if anyone else wants to get in. You’re not in a rush anyway, right?
• I think we’ve seen some speed limit signs from time to time, but they were in kilometers anyway, and who can be expected to convert from miles that quickly? Besides, everyone follows the general speed of traffic anyway. And that speed makes driving and drinking a cup of coffee or a cerveza at the same time next to impossible.
• The motorcycle is always right. They outnumber you. They will buzz past within inches of you at any and all opportunity.

Some things you will likely have to slow down or stop for at some point:

I have no idea what they’re selling. I’ll just stop right here in the middle of the road to find out.

• Cows
• Horses
• Chickens
• Goats
• Pigs
• Donkeys
• Motorcycles
• People carrying produce on their heads
• Potholes
• The national police wielding rifles at a random check point

Some things you will pass while driving:

• An old man trying to sell fish hanging from a wooden staff
• A younger man trying to sell puppies
• Women trying to sell themselves. Also, women trying to sell stuffed unicorns
• Men urinating
• All livestock listed above
• Rows of vendors all selling the same thing at the same price (roasted nuts, handmade rugs, flip-flops, produce, etc.)

Now, navigating the car through the DR roads is one thing. The car itself is a whole different ballgame. If you are planning to rent a car from one of the many locals, here are a few know-before-you-go tips:

• It’s best to rent from someone that you were referred to by someone you trust.  For us, the cruising community provided this.
• Your gas tank will start on empty, likely without even enough gas to get to the gas station.
• You windshield will likely be cracked.
• The tires may or may not be flat.  And if they aren’t, one might be tomorrow.
• Think of the “Check Engine Light” as decoration.
• Custom car alarms cause cars to lock themselves. Whether or not your keys are in them. Learned that one the hard way.
• If the car doesn’t start, simply open the hood and bang on the battery and starter a few times. Works like a charm.
• Engine overheating? No problema. Pour water on it (or perhaps in it?)
• Sometimes your headlights will work. Sometimes your lowlights will work. Sometimes your dash lights will work. Sometimes they might all work at the same time.
• Keep some duct tape with you in case the rearview mirror or side mirrors fall off.

I feel confident that once you master driving here, you can drive anywhere. Hell, in the States, with the order and structure of traffic grids and speed limits and dependable drivers, you could probably drive and do your taxes at the same time.

While everything included in this helpful guide is 100% true and has been experienced by us, there is a rhythm to driving here that is attainable with practice. Aaron has become quite skilled at it and is fully comfortable behind the wheel, and I’m slowly but surely putting some miles under my belt. So get out there and try it! Just be very cautious. Auto and liability insurance here, well, that’s a whole other story…

DR Road Trip

In the past week, we drove 328 miles. We spent the night in four different places. Aaron became an expert at traversing the crazy Dominican roadways, Claire was a complete trooper (and a backseat driver), and we really, truly saw the Dominican Republic.

When we decided to park the boat in Luperon for hurricane season, Aaron and I were on the same page about taking advantage of this amazing opportunity to drive the country. Luperon has proven to be a rich home base for us, but there is so much more here – such diversity in landscape and community – we decided to stretch the budget a bit and explore as a family.

We had about a week before Claire started school in Cabarete, so we planned a pretty aggressive route – south to the lush mountain town of Jarabacoa, through the countryside to the crazy metropolis of Santo Domingo, and then back up to the breathtaking north coast.

A combination of AirBnB and Marriott hotel points allowed us to find cost-effective lodging and we wheeled and dealed with the local Luperon car rental contact, Franklin, for the Suzuki 4-wheel-drive beast that is ours through Nov. 1. That part, alone, is a story for another time.

The pictures below tell the story better than I ever could in words. But in a few, we jumped and slid down waterfalls, rode horses through the mountains and swam in a riverside pool. We had fried chicken sushi and pizza with fresh strawberries and breathed in the invigorating scents of greenery all around us.

We took advantage of the sheer decadence of Uber after Aaron battled traffic getting into Santo Domingo that can only be described as complete insanity. We walked to the point of jelly legs through the Zona Colonial and chased some cats through the ruins of a 16th century monastery. Aaron and I reveled in craft beers while playing board games and yes, we went to Ikea.

Not all of it was perfect, of course. We took a quick drive through Bonao, a more gritty city south of Jarabacoa, and decided to continue on our way. And with nerves on overdrive, Aaron navigated our Suzuki through the Sunday morning open-air markets on Expreso 27 de Febrero in Santo Domingo – blocks and blocks of Air Jordans and Jansport backpacks and boots and clothes and fruits and vegetables and TRAFFIC. It was a chaos we were happy to experience from the car. But even so, we appreciated experiencing these pockets of culture.

I tried to think back to when we did road trips as a family in the States, and truthfully, we really didn’t – aside from when we drove from Oak Park, Ill., to move onto Clarity in Florida. And why didn’t we?! The drive to get to each place brought as many memories as the places themselves, so much of this beautiful country that we would have missed completely if we only visited by boat. But a big difference now is time. We had the time. We’ve made the time as a family, to explore the world together.

To try to find the true essence of a place, to peel back the layers, to get lost in it all. That’s where the magic is.

Our first day trip was to 27 Waterfalls, an amazing adventure just outside of Imbert in the Northern Corridor mountain range. The crew from s/v Freedom were our partners in crime! So great to share this experience with them.

Altogether, we jumped or slid down 12 waterfalls, and Claire was so brave! This kid – she amazes us every day.

Crew Clarity and Crew Freedom!

The upper terrace of the Jarabacoa Mountain Hostel, in the La Joya district – our home for two nights.

The outdoor kitchen and entertainment area of the hostel. This truly was a wonderful place to stay! And certainly a new experience for us, though we had our own private room.

We spent the day at Rancho Baiguate, a gorgeous compound that hugs the Yaque Del Norte River.

Many visitors use Rancho Baiguate as a starting point for Jarabacoa adventures, like whitewater rafting, paragliding and repelling down waterfalls. With a 5-year-old in tow, we chose the more demure horeseback ride to the nearby waterfall.

Baiguate Waterfall

In addition to the excursions, Rancho Baiguate also offered day passes to the grounds. At first, we hemmed and hawed at the price, but once we saw the amenities – like this riverside pool – we reconsidered. We enjoyed a lovely afternoon here.

RB also included a whole playground/adventure course for kiddos (Happy Claire!). There was also a children’s zipline, as well as an open-air game room with pool and ping-pong.

Downtown Jarabacoa was absolutely nuts with activity, both on the streets and in the storefronts. This is a glimpse at the fresh produce at the local market (not to be confused with the supermarket).

The butcher at the market. This is where you buy your meat, pretty much anywhere in the DR – not at the grocery store.

Fried chicken and honey sushi roll? Claire loved it 🙂

Bottled tree bark for a Dominican drink called Mamajuana. One of these days, we are going to try it! Will report back.

The Jarabacoa pizza at Plaza Alterra included ham, fresh strawberries and pesto. It was delicious!

Zona Colonial, Santo Domingo

Dominoes in Parque Colon

Get those Nikes shined!

The ruins of the Monasterio de San Francisco! An absolutely beautiful site that turns into a live music and dance party for locals and visitors on Sundays.

Los Tres Ojos, a limestone cave in the Mirador del Este park in Santo Domingo. Inside the cave are four lakes – three you can take stairs down to, and a fourth accessible only by cable boat.

The beautiful blue waters

The lights of the cable boat coming in for the next round of visitors.

The fourth lake

Beachside mofongo at Adrian Tropical to finish off the day

We wore this kid out! Poor little legs 🙂

Ikea! Ikea! Ikea!

Craft beers at Cultura Cervecera! Kudos to Aaron for finding this gem in one of the neighborhoods in Santo Domingo. Board games made it a win-win!

A popular locals beach on the north coast just west of Las Terrenas, with the Samana peninsula in the background

Claire, right at home after a few hours of driving north. She’s a beach kiddo through and through

 

First-Year Reflections

Our monkey, at home climbing trees on the beach in Luperon, DR.

One of the questions I received most often from friends and family while back in the States was, “So how much longer are you going to do this?”

Spoiler alert: I have no idea. It could be a few months, or a few years. But one person phrased it a bit differently. She said, in a completely non-judgmental way, “Are you done?”

She was asking because I had just detailed the laundry list of challenges we faced in the past year. As my response came tumbling out of my mouth, I surprisingly found myself uttering a succinct thought that I hadn’t voiced before, maybe hadn’t even realized before. But it’s at the crux of everything for me.

“I don’t want to stop living a life that challenges me, that kicks me in the butt, in the best ways and in the hardest ways.”

Crew Clarity has officially completed a full year of cruising. Strangely enough, the anniversary came and went in mid-July, while we were in the States, completely oblivious to the milestone. We were too busy to notice. Life in the States is defined by busyness.

But the time away from the boat allowed me to reflect on this crazy ride we’ve been on, to recognize what went to plan and what didn’t, to see the ups and downs for what they were, and to gain the perspective you can only find with distance – literal and figurative.

Here are some thoughts on our first year.

 

First-Year Projection: Life on the boat will be so much cheaper!

Reality: Not really. And this is for a number of reasons.

1. Our first cruising grounds were the Bahamas, one of the most expensive places you can go in terms of the cost of food, the price to do anything on land (eat out, rent a car, book a tour), and the charges for having (much-needed) boat parts shipped from the States.
2. While we don’t have a mortgage or car payments, we still currently have two boat payments. Yep, two. Our Pearson in Chicago still hasn’t sold. Sigh… It’s a long story. And for that one, in addition to the loan payments, we have yard storage fees. This is killing us.
3. While healthcare in general is much, much cheaper pretty much anywhere but the States, certain atypical situations come with a hefty price tag. Like, say, sticking a bean up one’s nose. And then refusing to let any doctors try to get it out. Tallying up to $4,000 – yep, you read that right – our “bean incident” gave our cruising budget a huge blow, and this was only two weeks into our international travels.
4. Boat crap is expensive. Sure, we anticipated having issues with the boat in our first year, as all cruisers do, and budgeted for that. But the issues and expenses we have had far exceeded our expectations. Getting the boat hauled out twice in the first year – once in the Abacos and once in Turks – no bueno.
5. One positive moneywise that I will say is that, while a lot of people recommended budgeting more in the first year for staying at docks, to get more used to living aboard and giving yourselves some breaks, we really didn’t find the need to do this. We loved staying at anchor, and save a couple of short stops where air-conditioning and cable seemed like Christmas morning, we were completely happy living off the grid. The boat had a lot of problems, but it also rocked it in a lot of ways that allowed us to live comfortably without needing to “plug in.”

 

First-Year Projection: Life on the boat will be so much simpler!

Reality: Life is different, not simpler.

One of the reasons we pursued this lifestyle was to spend more time together as a family. In that respect, the biggest change would be that Aaron wouldn’t be going into the office. He would do work part-time from the boat, but would otherwise be able to participate more in daily “family life.” Certainly we’ve had more time together – how could we not – but for him, office time just turned into boat project time. There were always unsolved problems, systems that weren’t working properly, parts that needed to be replaced, and on, and on, and on. And boat problems have one deadline: as soon as possible. Aaron was often working on them at daybreak, well into the evenings, and through the weekends.

Claire’s 5th birthday celebration on the beach in Georgetown, Exumas, with her bestie, Henry.

Daily life also just takes longer. A decent portion of my day is spent just in meals – making them, serving them, doing all of the dishes from them, making sure we have enough groceries for wherever we’re going next. Then there’s the laundry that needs doing, cleaning, schooling for Claire, etc. None of this is bad – I just didn’t realize before we moved aboard how much daily time would be spent “living.”

Living and traveling on the water also requires an ongoing dedication to forecasting. We live and breathe the weather. Any sail requires planning – routes, wind predictions, wave expectations, tide schedule, and potential anchorages. And once we’re there, a constant monitoring of conditions is always in the background of what we’re doing.

 

First-Year Projection: These close quarters will drive us crazy!

Reality: This really wasn’t a problem for us.

We were fortunate in that, when we decided to do this, we already had an idea of what living together on a boat would be like, thanks to the month-long summer trips we took on the Pearson for three years. But, with those, there was always a definitive end-point, which changes your thinking. On Clarity, once we got past the initial unpacking and storing of everything we had brought from Chicago, we settled in comfortably. The only times I’ve felt confined on the boat were when we were stuck on board for days due to bad weather, unable to even go topsides, and when the boat was completely torn apart down below to troubleshoot a problem or work on a system.

Don’t get me wrong – life on board hasn’t been perfect. We get short with Claire, we get short with each other. But the further into the year we got, the better we were able to recognize when Claire just needed to run off some steam on the beach. Or when Aaron and I were arguing and all that was really needed was some time away from each other and the issue would disappear or work itself out.

Aaron and I are also both aware of making sure we each have the space to pursue our own things, especially when we’re in a place that affords us the opportunity to do so. Here in the DR, it’s been yoga mornings for me and evenings at the pool hall for him.  Have I mentioned yet that we love it here?

 

First-Year Projection: Having no break from Claire will be hard.

Reality: Yep.

This was one of the hardest adjustments, at least for me. I was anxious about transitioning from Claire being in preschool three to four days a week and having ample babysitting options to basically a childcare desert. Sometimes, I don’t even notice it – we just go on about our daily life and I forget. But other times, we would do anything for a break, for her to go somewhere, even if just for an afternoon. I think it’s healthy to check out of being parents every once in awhile.

Schooling has been another part of the challenge. Claire is a bright kiddo and it amazes us every day, how quickly she learns and how much she picks up from the world around us. Hopefully our lifestyle is helping out in that regard. But we are also gaining even more respect for teachers. It’s hard to play that role for Claire one minute, and then be mom or dad the next. As I’m sure is the case for a lot of 5-year-olds, some days, she’s great about it. Other days, it’s a fight – and Claire knows how to push all of our buttons, hard.

Aaron threading the reefs (the dark patches in the background are a few of countless) in the Turks and Caicos

One thing we should have done more this year is arrange some kid swaps with other cruising families. We were extremely fortunate to meet other kid boats almost everywhere we went, and it would have made so much sense to offer to take their kiddo for awhile so they could have some time to themselves, and then in return been able to drop Claire off for an afternoon and get some time ourselves also. Why didn’t we do this more?! I have no idea. We did make getting together with other cruising families a priority, though, and that alone was helpful – the kids with other kiddos to play with, the adults able to do some adulting.

Claire has also been witness to some tough times for Aaron and me this past year, when we were really struggling with boat problems or rough passages or things just not falling into place. That is another challenge – always having a little person around to hear every single word or experience every single mood. (We can’t even fight by ourselves! Ha!)

Here in the DR, we have Claire signed up for kindergarten at a local Montessori school in Cabarete from Aug. 21 through Nov. 1, possibly later. Monday through Friday, from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. It’s not cheap (although it’s a lot cheaper here than it would be in the States), but we thought she would really benefit from experiencing the culture here with other kiddos, from learning for a few months from other authority figures, and from the schedule that a school day affords. We have secured a short-term lease on a nearby condo on the beach and will briefly be landlubbers in an area we’ve already come to love.

Claire’s school time will also allow Aaron and me to work more hours, to get some time to ourselves, and for all of us to recharge a bit before we’re back on the boat full time after hurricane season.  Aaron plans to take up surfing and get back to scuba diving, and I plan to crash the yoga retreat that neighbors our condo building as much as possible and also become a ukulele master.

 

First-Year Projection: Being away from our friends and family will be extremely hard.

Reality: Yes – BUT – we were able to stay more connected than I thought.

This was another one of my biggest fears as we moved aboard. My family and my friends are the most important things in my life (aside from our little immediate family, of course), and I had come to rely heavily on my support network.

I also realized that my relationships were primarily based on one-on-one interactions. Think about it – when was the last time, aside from family, that you carved out time for a long, catch-up phone call with a friend? Or took the time to send them a long email?

Connectivity in foreign countries was also embarrassingly a bit of an unknown for me. I was pretty sure it would work itself out, but I didn’t know how.

Our cell plans with T-Mobile have been a lifesaver, at least for me. Though phone calls are an upcharge with price dependent on where we are, we have unlimited texting and unlimited (3G-speed) data. We’ve been able to text regularly with friends, set up free Skype and Facebook Messenger calls when schedules allow, and yes, as you know, check Facebook/Instagram/etc regularly. It helps me feel less isolated from the goings on of everyone back in the States.

Another misconception of the cruising life by those who are less familiar is this idea that we are out on our own, in the middle of nowhere, all alone. Sometimes we are in the middle of nowhere, but we are hardly ever alone. There are a lot of people, including families, who are living this lifestyle and we are a tight-knit group. We become fast friends and if anyone needs anything, we are there to help – sometimes almost too eagerly. The cruising community is nothing short of amazing.

 

First-Year Projection: This life is going to change us.

Reality: Tenfold.

This past year has been the hardest of my life. It’s also been the most rewarding, the most life-altering, the most transformative. I’m pretty sure those things go hand in hand.

Conch shells on the first beach we set foot on in the Abacos, Bahamas, after our Gulf Stream crossing from Florida.

I have more faith in our marriage than ever, and it’s not because life has been perfect. We’ve had our fair share of ugly fights and ugly crying, but one thing we’ve never given up on is each other. I already thought Aaron was a pretty rad dude, but being a witness to the dedication he puts into this boat and this family has been awesome, in the pure sense of the word.

I also sometimes need to remind myself of how far I’ve come. Before we started this chapter, I had never spent a night at anchor (can you believe that?!). I’d never sailed in a squall. I’d never done an overnighter. I’d never driven a dinghy. So, so many firsts that now barely even register, we’ve experienced so much.

I’ve learned that schedules are for the birds, that things don’t go to plan, that you will continue to be tested – especially if you think you can’t handle anything else – and that the rewards are immeasurable, both big and small.

On the bad days, I want to throw in the towel and give up. But I never do. And experience has taught me now to wait until we’re out of the immediate problem to make any lasting decisions about the future. Sleep-deprived and seasick, I may lament to Aaron, “I’m done! I’m shot.” But I’m not! How can I be? This life, this crazy life, has pushed me so far out of my comfort zone, it’s exhilarating, and addictive. I want to keep pushing to become the best version of myself.

My priorities have shifted and my needs have changed. God, do I miss Starbucks coffee and long, hot baths – conveniences not only in the availability of goods, but the dependability of services. But they’re not really needs, right? We can make do – happily – without them.

To me, the time we spend together as a family, the travel, the new cultures, far supersedes the balance in our checking account.

I used to be so concerned with how I defined myself. By my profession? By being married, having a child? By being an adventurer?

The truth is, who cares?! At least right now, I really don’t. While we were back in the States, a good friend said something to me in passing – something that surprised me and also resonated so deeply. She said, “You seem much more self-assured, more confident.” And I am! – that this is the life I should be living. That this is where I belong.

 

I have no idea where my mind will be at a year from now. I have no idea where our boat will be a year from now.  But I know that I’m here right now, in Luperon in the Dominican Republic, writing this blog post with the breeze from the trade winds breaking the midday heat, with Aaron and Claire back on the boat a short dinghy ride away, doing school, playing legos, preparing dinner, or maybe doing nothing at all.

In Love With the DR

The Dominican Republic for us has been like a once-in-a-lifetime romance: you fall in love fast, and you fall in love hard.

Maybe it’s because we limped into this country beaten down and losing hope. But I think it’s because the DR is magical in such a pure, well-rounded way that isn’t limited to beautiful beaches (though those are here, too).

The DR oozes life and offers a diversity in terrain and ambience that’s staggering. In a handful of miles, you can travel from a tranquil fishing town to rolling farmland to lush mountains to pulsing watersport enclaves. The people are friendly and welcoming, the cuisine is delicious, and the price is right.

This place has been totally unexpected and exactly what we needed – so much so that we’ve changed our cruising plans. We originally planned to make a brief stop here on our way to Puerto Rico for hurricane season. But after just a few weeks here, it became clear that breezing through town on the way east would never be enough time. We also realized just how much protection from hurricanes the Luperon Bay offers – much more than the marinas in Puerto Rico – and it’s a much, much cheaper option.

And, a few of the amazing cruising families we met in Georgetown are here and are also staying here for hurricane season. Being able to spend more time with them, and have Claire spend more time with her favorite cruising buddies, sealed it for us.

With the boat safely tucked away in Luperon, we rented a home in Cabarete for a week and will fly home to the States next week to visit friends and family and take care of some technological needs (like fixing Aaron’s computer and replacing his phone, both of which got fried on the crossing here).

The next four or five months promise everything we need to refuel: a break from the boat, a trip home, and the excitement when we return of traveling a country we’ve already come to love.

Life is good.

Bay of Luperon

Care Bears at Putula’s

New friends around every corner

View of Luperon Bay from Casa Blanca, a restaurant at the top of the hill. The view is always so much sweeter with good friends like fellow cruiser Viv!

Go Fish with Vivian and Hudson

Dominoes!

Motoconcho – the best way to travel!

Playa Grande, Luperon

Haven’t you used your umbrella for this?

Sunset in the bay

Mototaxi to El Castillo

The site of the first church of the New World, established in 1494 (though this church was constructed in 1994, to commemorate the 500-year anniversary)

Wild turkeys on the church grounds

La Playa Isabela

Local fisherwoman at Playa Isabela

Un helado muy grande, por favor!

Teleferico de Puerto Plata (Cable Car)

The view of Puerto Plata from the top

Of course Claire finds a cat up at the top of a mountain. Of course she does.

Christ the Redeemer, at the summit of the “Isabel de Torres” mountain

The paths through lush tropical gardens at the top of the mountain were absolutely breathtaking.

Our backyard at our Cabarete rental 🙂

Beautiful flowers, terrifying thorns

Breakfast on the patio

Churrasco for dinner at the gorgeous Cabarete Surf Camp, a 2-minute walk from our rental house

A slice of Heaven, yet similar scenes are around every street corner here

One of the many options for staying at the Cabarete Surf Camp

A perfect spot for morning coffee

Claire and bestie Henry, together again! These two never sit still 🙂

Magic poolside potions with Viv at the Kite Beach Hotel

When in Rome…