The Latin Islands
- Dominican Republic
18:26.7N 69:37.4W
After
a slow, rainy and rather gloomy overnight sail we arrived at Bocca Chica in the
Dominican Republic.
The new marina and anchorage is tucked in behind a solid reef. Here we had our
first taste of true latin bureaucracy. We were required to moor alongside in
the marina whilst we were visited, en masse, by officials from customs,
immigration, coastguard, the drugs enforcement officer, a fatigue-clad gentleman
from the navy and another from the maritime ministry. Two hours and much
paperwork later we were charged the rip-off $160 to enter Dominican Republic. It appears the
officials are testing the water to see how much they can get away with
charging. Boats we met in Bocca Chica had been charged anything between $25 and
$160 for entry, depending at which port they initially entered the country.
Once clear of the paperwork we took a mooring buoy just off the marina which
was much more pleasant.
Bocca
Chica, about 12 miles from the capital, Santo
Domingo is where everyone goes to party. Unbeknown to
us, we arrived half–way through a five-day public holiday. The good
citizens of the Dominican
Republic know only one way to party –
have their own music and turn it up LOUD. This could be bearable if it was just
one set of music, but every small motorboat who came out to share the anchorage
with us had their own music. Add to the mix jet skis, waterskiing, planing
speed boats and Bocca Chica could not be described as a tranquil anchorage.
However by 3 in the morning things quieten down until about 10 next morning.
Having
said that, we rather enjoyed Bocca Chica. The marina staff were incredibly
helpful, even taking us to the local supermarket to provision the boat. The
drug enforcement officer, Victor, befriended us and insisted on taking us for a
typical Dominican Republic
breakfast of fish soup, down at the local fishing village. He also took me on a
very ‘interesting’ motorbike ride to the nearest cash point. An experience
I would rather not repeat
In
the anchorage at Bocca Chica was a 50ft catamaran called ‘El Gecco’
which we viewed in Tortola a few years ago and
very, very nearly bought (we much prefer Snow Leopard). She is now owned by a
South African, Neil Peterson, a well known round-the-world single-handed
sailor. Another 60ft cat sailed in sailed by a charming Canadian couple, Paul
and Catherine, and their friend Glenn, who turned out to be a great friend of
Keith Bliss a friend of ours in England.
Glenn rang Keith and I spoke to him once he had got over the confusion of me
calling him on Glenn’s phone. We spent a couple of great evenings with
them, and also with a young German couple sailing a tiny open decked cat, who
managed to produce a wonderful curry for eight at the drop of a hat.
Bocca
Chica has a beach several miles long, decked out with thousands of thatch
sunshades and even more sun beds. A stroll along the beach was a great way to
see the locals at play, interspersed with street vendors selling everything
from the local favourite ‘jamekeke’ a popadom-like round deep-fried
bread, to toffee apples, jewellery and all manner of other things.
We
stayed in Bocca Chica for five days (so it couldn’t have been that bad)
before heading off on our final leg to Cuba, a 400 mile sail along the south
coast of the Dominican Republic, past Haiti and on to Santiago de Cuba. It was
a windy trip with up to 35 knots of wind, but almost always dead behind. The
one time the wind came on the beam we hit 20 knots again before deciding it was
time to drop the double-reefed main and sail at a steady 10 to 12 knots under
jib alone.