I met up with the hiking club at a supermarket in Santurce on a beautiful Sunday morning. We were a far-flung group of eight mainland Americans, two Puerto Ricans, a Mexican, a German, and a Panamanian. I climbed in the back of a truck and we caravanned southwest to a stretch of mountainous wilderness near the town of Juana Díaz. Our destination was Charco El Café — Coffee Pond — where a river runs down a mountainside and forms pools at different levels.
I’d never done anything with this group before and didn’t quite know what to expect. I conceived of “hiking” as an overland walk on a trail. Silly me. This experience was more like ascending through a rushing mountain stream and occasionally doing some technical on-land climbing. The trip required skills I just don’t have, but even so, I had a blast.
We stopped at a bridge where a small country road crossed over a stream. As we waited for everyone to assemble, I took a few steps into the woods and found this almost perfect spider web.
Then the hike began.
I looked to the left and right for a path that we could walk, but there wasn’t one. It was then I realized what a hike in a charco really meant. With no alternative, I waded in and carefully made my way upstream.
I was wearing a pair of water resistant Merrell hiking shoes. Of course, the water resistance only keeps water from seeping in the bottom or the sides. When I first put my foot down into two feet of water, I got soaked. Even then the shoes remained comfortable–but they weren’t great on uneven slippery rocks. They didn’t have enough grip. As I hopped from rock to rock, I considered that if I slipped, I’d go down fast the hit my head on the rocks. And that would be unpleasant.
I finally made it up to the first swimming hole. A couple guys from our group went for a dip. I rested on the rocks. The scrambling upward over wet uneven rocks was kicking my soft ass.
Some of the more daring members jumped into the pool from a rocks ledge. Others contemplated it and thought the better of it.
For some, figuring out how to get out of the swimming hole was tougher than going bombs-away and jumping in. There weren’t any obvious handholds or footholds.
We began to ascend again. There were rumors of an even bigger swimming hole further up. And the rumors turned out to be true.
The more experienced technical climbers continued on in search of a third pool. I went up partway with them, but decided that I’d enjoy things a lot more just resting on the rocks, looking at the dense forest and the rushing water, and listing to the nature sounds. A few others joined me.
After we’d waited a little over an hour, the technical crew returned, saying they’d made it, but with difficulty. And so we began to climb down. Though the ascent was more strenuous, the descent was more perilous. I made it unscathed, but I sure took my time about it.
We’d all worked up a big appetite, so we got back into our vehicles and set out in search of food. We were so far into the woods that there was no cell service, but one of the guys knew the way to Villalba, so we followed him on faith. It turned out to be a great decision, because we found ourselves at one of the best, most fun restaurants I’ve been to in Puerto Rico. We were here:
Papá Luis is a roadside eating and drinking compound with dress-alike waitresses and a real sense of place. And there really is a Papá Luis; in the above and below photos, he’s the guy with the hat and the purple shirt.
This was our group, with yours truly in the orange.
One of the group brought a bottle of homemade “Colon Cleanser” hot sauce. I passed up that opportunity for some reason.
This experience reminded me that I do enjoy being outside and doing physically strenuous things — I’m just not very good at them. I’m either going to have to decide that that’s OK or decide to do something about my shortcomings.
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