Jan 27
After checking in to Samana, Loon invited us to shore with them and have a few beers. After hours of card tricks, deafening music, a long conversation with a mute, a goat dinner, and I don’t know how many beers, including us kids because there is no drinking age here, we were ready to return to the boat. I was dismayed to see that the dinghy had managed to get stuck under the dock. Not good! Meanwhile everybody needed to pee.
So the conundrum of the evening was, “How do you get a dinghy out from under a cement dock when the motor is sitting behind a concrete lip and you are laughing very hard while having to urgently pee?” The locals were all there to "help us" but when we said we could handle it, they cut off the lights. Maybe they wanted a "tip" to help us? Perhaps they pushed the dinghy there in the first place? So, now it is also dark. We composed ourselves and got to work. We deflated the dinghy and tried to wiggle it out. That did not work; next Ian lay in the dinghy while my dad pushed him under. From there the motor was removed and laid in the dinghy next to him. Now the only problem was that Ian was stuck under the dock in the dinghy. Trying not to alarm Ian we managed to get the front part out with out much commotion. Out came the "Angry German", this is what we call Dad when he gets frustrated and uses full force while grunting and screaming indecipherable German to get the job done. Dad jumped on the dinghy and loudly forced it to out from under the concrete lip. Great success! Now, the dinghy needed air, so the Angry German and the Englishman each bent down back to back to blow into the dinghy. Well, jokes were flying when the competition began. In the end the German was full of more hot air than the Brit. Meanwhile we still had to pee and the hysterics did not help. We then went to Loon for another drink, exactly what we needed since only half of us were able to walk in a strait line. We were all laughing and I’m sure we were quiet as not to wake the other boats in the anchorage.
Jan 28
Today was our day of fun and adventure. After last night’s fiasco, however, we had a late start. This was a problem because two cruise ships full of tourists had already begun to come ashore. Our plan for the day was to visit the Limon waterfall, this also included horseback riding and a good hike. First we had to get there. It was forty five minutes away by car. The bargaining with overpriced taxis began. Finally we made it down to fifty dollars both ways in a small Nissan four door pickup. Since we had six people we had to pull the clown trick again. We also made excellent time; this may have been because of the driver’s swerving through traffic, this included: cars, motorcycles, bicycles, goat, sheep, cows, horses, and chickens, at 110 kilometers an hour. Fortunately, for us we beat the tourists. Next, we rented horses and quickly set out. My horse, a sad looking malnourished skeleton of an animal, proved to be quite the horse after all. I temporarily named him Mr. Ed or Eddy depending on how I was using his name. All six of us were rushed away each with our own guides. Mine happened to be a twisted boy about the age of 10 who apparently liked to whip my horse.
I was not surprised when Mr. Ed kicked back after the second smack, ten yards from the starting line. My whipping boy backed off and when I got a chance I pulled ahead to prevent Mr. Ed from being beaten. The path while at first seeming easy, a dirt road running through a small town, proved to be a challenge after all, mostly for Eddy. His feet sank into the deep mud as he struggled up and down the very steep hills. I was unable to allow him to slow because the demented boy was following closely behind. Eventually I got a feel for Mr. Ed. I no longer had to excessively tug on the reigns to steer him because he knew the way to go, so even without a guide I could not get lost. At the falls, we were taken up for another fee to actually see them, as if we had not already paid enough, welcome to the DR. The waterfall was cool but the mud was horrible. 
It was a steep climb down to the base of the falls. Dad and Phil suddenly disappeared down another path then returned sometime later from the woods with only half a sock. (I wonder why? Could it be the water or perhaps the goat dinner?) We mounted our horses once again and a soon as I got on Mr. Ed I was swept away by another boy, he was not as troubled as the first, fortunately for Ed; and he never hit my horse. Instead he made this annoying noise as if it would make Eddy walk faster, so I ditched him, too. I was swept away from the falls so fast that my dad barely had enough time to take my picture on Eddy. My emaciated horse and I were on the difficult trail back to the village. It was easier on me this time though because my horse no longer tried to ram me into the trees and barbed wire fences that lined the trail. When we arrived there was no taxi so we ate lunch: fish, (minnows that were fried whole), rice and beans, and an assortment of tropical fruits. Phil and I also feed some of the hungry horses some coconut and sugar cane. Finally, at 3:30pm, an hour and thirty minutes late, the cab showed up. He also brought some company. There were two passengers in the back. The crazy driver wanted us to sit in the bed of the truck, but with his driving there was no way. He then suggested that he would come back but that would take too long. The group decided that we would not go with him. We would have to find another ride into town. The driver still wanted payment for the whole trip. We had paid 15 dollars for the way there and were supposed to pay the rest when we returned to town. When we refused to pay the 35 dollars he threatened to call the police and quickly left because he was about to lose the customers in the back that were becoming impatient. His “friend” then offered us a ride for 500 pesos a little more than 15 dollars. We looked behind us and our stalker was following us in his tripped out pickup. He was talking on his cell phone and waving his arms. We casually got out of our van and followed the back streets to the police station, not because of the crazy driver but because we needed our despatcho so that we could take advantage of the west wind to cross the Mona Passage to Porto Rico. The funny part was that the stalker showed up at the police staton and was sent away by the officers there. We were safe at the police office. The crazy driver ended up tracking Mike and Ian down with two police officers as they went to retrieve our passports from the boat. After Joe translated for them and explained the situation, we only ended up having to pay ten more dollars accounting for half of the trip. This was a success after the crazy driver had tried to lie and say that we paid him nothing. We were not going to get gypsied today. With our despatcho in hand we quickly returned to the boat to fill her will fuel and water which Joe dinghied out to us in large canisters.
As we were getting ready for bed, we heard whooping and hollering from someone on a dinghy circling around our boat. He was laughing and screaming and apparently very drunk. He proved to be quite belligerent and told us to shut the F... up repeatedly as we shined a spot light in his direction. He also screamed other obscenities at us at the top of his lungs. I think he was also cursing at his boat which he couldn’t seem to get into, something about bovine excrement. He then resumed shouting, “Shut the F... up!” to us. I could see the Angry German billowing up. Since our dinghy was not in the water, my Dad invited him over to us: “Why don’t you come over here so I can open a can of whoop-ass on you, bitch!” The man stumbled around on deck for while, then finally managing to open a hatch where he descended. All was quiet as he must have passed out.
After checking in to Samana, Loon invited us to shore with them and have a few beers. After hours of card tricks, deafening music, a long conversation with a mute, a goat dinner, and I don’t know how many beers, including us kids because there is no drinking age here, we were ready to return to the boat. I was dismayed to see that the dinghy had managed to get stuck under the dock. Not good! Meanwhile everybody needed to pee.
So the conundrum of the evening was, “How do you get a dinghy out from under a cement dock when the motor is sitting behind a concrete lip and you are laughing very hard while having to urgently pee?” The locals were all there to "help us" but when we said we could handle it, they cut off the lights. Maybe they wanted a "tip" to help us? Perhaps they pushed the dinghy there in the first place? So, now it is also dark. We composed ourselves and got to work. We deflated the dinghy and tried to wiggle it out. That did not work; next Ian lay in the dinghy while my dad pushed him under. From there the motor was removed and laid in the dinghy next to him. Now the only problem was that Ian was stuck under the dock in the dinghy. Trying not to alarm Ian we managed to get the front part out with out much commotion. Out came the "Angry German", this is what we call Dad when he gets frustrated and uses full force while grunting and screaming indecipherable German to get the job done. Dad jumped on the dinghy and loudly forced it to out from under the concrete lip. Great success! Now, the dinghy needed air, so the Angry German and the Englishman each bent down back to back to blow into the dinghy. Well, jokes were flying when the competition began. In the end the German was full of more hot air than the Brit. Meanwhile we still had to pee and the hysterics did not help. We then went to Loon for another drink, exactly what we needed since only half of us were able to walk in a strait line. We were all laughing and I’m sure we were quiet as not to wake the other boats in the anchorage.Jan 28
Today was our day of fun and adventure. After last night’s fiasco, however, we had a late start. This was a problem because two cruise ships full of tourists had already begun to come ashore. Our plan for the day was to visit the Limon waterfall, this also included horseback riding and a good hike. First we had to get there. It was forty five minutes away by car. The bargaining with overpriced taxis began. Finally we made it down to fifty dollars both ways in a small Nissan four door pickup. Since we had six people we had to pull the clown trick again. We also made excellent time; this may have been because of the driver’s swerving through traffic, this included: cars, motorcycles, bicycles, goat, sheep, cows, horses, and chickens, at 110 kilometers an hour. Fortunately, for us we beat the tourists. Next, we rented horses and quickly set out. My horse, a sad looking malnourished skeleton of an animal, proved to be quite the horse after all. I temporarily named him Mr. Ed or Eddy depending on how I was using his name. All six of us were rushed away each with our own guides. Mine happened to be a twisted boy about the age of 10 who apparently liked to whip my horse.
I was not surprised when Mr. Ed kicked back after the second smack, ten yards from the starting line. My whipping boy backed off and when I got a chance I pulled ahead to prevent Mr. Ed from being beaten. The path while at first seeming easy, a dirt road running through a small town, proved to be a challenge after all, mostly for Eddy. His feet sank into the deep mud as he struggled up and down the very steep hills. I was unable to allow him to slow because the demented boy was following closely behind. Eventually I got a feel for Mr. Ed. I no longer had to excessively tug on the reigns to steer him because he knew the way to go, so even without a guide I could not get lost. At the falls, we were taken up for another fee to actually see them, as if we had not already paid enough, welcome to the DR. The waterfall was cool but the mud was horrible. 
It was a steep climb down to the base of the falls. Dad and Phil suddenly disappeared down another path then returned sometime later from the woods with only half a sock. (I wonder why? Could it be the water or perhaps the goat dinner?) We mounted our horses once again and a soon as I got on Mr. Ed I was swept away by another boy, he was not as troubled as the first, fortunately for Ed; and he never hit my horse. Instead he made this annoying noise as if it would make Eddy walk faster, so I ditched him, too. I was swept away from the falls so fast that my dad barely had enough time to take my picture on Eddy. My emaciated horse and I were on the difficult trail back to the village. It was easier on me this time though because my horse no longer tried to ram me into the trees and barbed wire fences that lined the trail. When we arrived there was no taxi so we ate lunch: fish, (minnows that were fried whole), rice and beans, and an assortment of tropical fruits. Phil and I also feed some of the hungry horses some coconut and sugar cane. Finally, at 3:30pm, an hour and thirty minutes late, the cab showed up. He also brought some company. There were two passengers in the back. The crazy driver wanted us to sit in the bed of the truck, but with his driving there was no way. He then suggested that he would come back but that would take too long. The group decided that we would not go with him. We would have to find another ride into town. The driver still wanted payment for the whole trip. We had paid 15 dollars for the way there and were supposed to pay the rest when we returned to town. When we refused to pay the 35 dollars he threatened to call the police and quickly left because he was about to lose the customers in the back that were becoming impatient. His “friend” then offered us a ride for 500 pesos a little more than 15 dollars. We looked behind us and our stalker was following us in his tripped out pickup. He was talking on his cell phone and waving his arms. We casually got out of our van and followed the back streets to the police station, not because of the crazy driver but because we needed our despatcho so that we could take advantage of the west wind to cross the Mona Passage to Porto Rico. The funny part was that the stalker showed up at the police staton and was sent away by the officers there. We were safe at the police office. The crazy driver ended up tracking Mike and Ian down with two police officers as they went to retrieve our passports from the boat. After Joe translated for them and explained the situation, we only ended up having to pay ten more dollars accounting for half of the trip. This was a success after the crazy driver had tried to lie and say that we paid him nothing. We were not going to get gypsied today. With our despatcho in hand we quickly returned to the boat to fill her will fuel and water which Joe dinghied out to us in large canisters.As we were getting ready for bed, we heard whooping and hollering from someone on a dinghy circling around our boat. He was laughing and screaming and apparently very drunk. He proved to be quite belligerent and told us to shut the F... up repeatedly as we shined a spot light in his direction. He also screamed other obscenities at us at the top of his lungs. I think he was also cursing at his boat which he couldn’t seem to get into, something about bovine excrement. He then resumed shouting, “Shut the F... up!” to us. I could see the Angry German billowing up. Since our dinghy was not in the water, my Dad invited him over to us: “Why don’t you come over here so I can open a can of whoop-ass on you, bitch!” The man stumbled around on deck for while, then finally managing to open a hatch where he descended. All was quiet as he must have passed out.
