Our only stop in the Dominican Republic was Luperon

(8/2) Luperon Anchorage

19° 53.97’ N
70° 57.04 W

We are compelled to give the Luperon anchorage two ratings. Some aspects are excellent, others problematic.

Luperon ranks high for holding, although it can take a while for an anchor to sink through the soft mud to the firmer gunk below. It has no current and exceptional storm protection, although east trade winds can whistle through the anchorage in the afternoons. There are biting insects near the mangroves.

The anchorage area is physically attractive.

Luperon ranks very poor -- pathetically poor -- for charting, and there are several unmarked shallow spots. There are very few markers defining its challenging entrance from the ocean. Groundings are an almost daily occurrence, and a grounding on the reef during high waves pound from the north would be disastrous.

The water is rich with life. Stories abound of the rapid growth of marine life on boats anchored here.

Diesel fuel is expensive here ($3.25/gal) and is delivered to boats in 50-gallon barrels. Water is delivered in five-gallon jugs (approx. $1.25 each). Gasoline is expensive: $3.80 per gallon in March 2005.

Officials here show up in surprising numbers to collect fees (and “tips”) for a surprising number of reasons.

Boaters communicate on VHF channel 68. There is an active and somewhat unique society of cruising sailors here, including a number of Americans who came years ago, found they liked it, and never left.

In anchorages where people tend to stay long enough to form a community, most  are friendly and a few are “quirky” (a variety of synonyms also apply). That seems especially true here. Example: on the Sunday morning open-discussion “net” on VHF channel 72, following announcements, advertisements and general discussions, cruisers are enthusiastically invited to call anyone they don’t like an “asshole.”

One American named Michael has been here several years and lives on a junky boat in the middle of the anchorage. He considers himself in charge of everything and doesn’t hesitate to boss people around as if he owns the place. It’s true that he does help boats through the tricky entrance, but the most generous thing we can say about him, overall, is that he’s a very polarizing individual who won’t hesitate to inject himself into any situation and try to take charge and start bossing people around. It takes a while to get used to the bizarre politics of this anchorage. Unfortunately, you can’t avoid the guy.

The fees paid by cruisers vary by how intimidated one is when the “Commandante” shows up at the boat and, through an interpreter, asks for a “donation.” No reason for the request is given, and we haven’t heard of anything bad happening to those who failed to fork over a few bucks. Still, it is blatant intimidation and makes some cruisers uncomfortable.

Apparently this “donation” used to be mandatory, and arbitrary. Locals say there was some kind of blowup when the required amount grew and people started aggressively objecting. Since then the graft has been “voluntary,” or as voluntary as it can be when the top uniformed official in the area, toting a gun, is standing in your cockpit with his hand out.

It takes about a day to pay all the fees here. An Agriculture Department official came out to Pioneer to ask if we had any fruit or vegetables -- and charged $10 for the “inspection.” Later another guy from the same office showed up to charge another $10 in exchange for asking us if we had any meat on board.

At a trailer “office” at the end of the dock, we also paid an $11 port fee, a $27 Navy charge, and we each paid $10 for tourist cards.

All together, we paid $82, including a $5 “donation” to the “Commandante.” The common view here is that most of this money goes into the pockets of various officials. At this writing we haven’t checked out of the country. Some cruisers report being charged for that privilege.

When it came time to leave, several forms were required. After our passports were stamped and we had an exit form in hand, we were informed that another exit permit was required -- and that the only person able to issue this form was not “available” (as a lot of people are not “available” during “Semanta Santa” the Easter holiday and largest national party of the year).

After trying everything to get the last form, we were told to come back the next morning. We did that, and were told that the missing person was still missing. Sorry. With that, we went to Pioneer and sailed away. They didn’t chase us. We understand they have only one patrol boat, and it had left the harbor two days earlier.

We always cooperate with officials wherever we travel. But even we have limits.