In which Layla and Roz go off piste for a central Puerto Rico adventure

by Layla

When we decided to return to Puerto Rico we were both clear on one thing: it mustn't be a repetition of last time (other than copious visits to the fabulous Marmalade restaurant). We'd already solved that with our crazy River/caving/climbing adventure, but adventure is just one component of a McCampion holiday: it was time to dial up the crazy. 

A couple of months ago I asked Tripadvisor for advice about a walking trip. There was but one reply, from Juan Carlos, a Puerto Rico librarian. He told us of a mythical expedition called the Caminata Panoramica. For the past 31 years, a group of Puerto Ricans have got together to walk the length of the island from east to west, he told us, broken up into 26 segments (A-Z) tackled every Saturday and Sunday morning from January til March, along a road called the Ruta Panoramica. The weekend we were in Puerto would be N and O... And did we want to join him? Well, of course. 

Juan Carlos picked us up in his car, and off we drove. First stop: Puerto Rico's second city, Ponce, because I had expressed an interest in seeing it. Alas it wasn't that exciting. We photographed lion statues and an old fire station, and drove up to a stately home on a hill, but soon we were on our way. Our destination was Adjuntas, but JC declined my suggestion via Google to take the highway. Instead we headed out on a long winding country road so he could indulge his obsession: chincharros. A chincharro is a roadside dive bar and Puerto Rico has hundreds of them. Most of which Juan Carlos has visited, and posted photos to prove it on his Facebook page. We all had a beer, took the requisite photograph, and we were on our nausea-inducing way. 

Eventually we got to our hotel, deep in the centre of the island. Juan Carlos immediately met a group of three extremely cheery walking friends who had done all the segments so far, and every year for decades. We all headed out to a charming little restaurant where they all busied themselves with finding us vegetarian food. We were introduced to our new middle-of-nowhere-in-PR staple, trifongo. Despite not really understanding, the dinner was extremely jolly. 

The next day we were up hideously early, driving to the end point of the walk, from where a yellow school bus conveys walkers to that day's starting point. Except we were feeling green with the winding roads, so we were let off at the start line to potter in a tiny Puerto Rico mountain village til the walkers started to gather. A range of ages, verging on older, the fashion of the day was a hat sporting cards from all the previous sections of the route walked that year, ie A-M. We proudly claimed our N cards and smiled for the photographs ensuing. Everyone was amazed and delighted that we tourists had somehow come across our walk and wanted to know all about us. I can't remember encountering any friendlier people. And their cheeriness continued. As we set off and walked along the road, the chickens clucking and dogs yapping from roadside homes were joined by roars of laughter from our happy walkers. As we progressed, walking through forest and mountain scenery, little buses drove by, handing us bottles of water and huge grapes. It was quite delightful. The first day was just under 10km, and at the end, the walkers gathered at a chinchorro for beer, delicious stew, and ice cream type snacks called a limber. "You are maybe the only non-Puerto-Ricans ever to visit this village!" More than one fellow walker announced with glee. The village in question was so remote its claim to fame is being the home of the native Puerto Ricans that survived longest after the Spanish invasion. 

We were happy to get back to our hotel, particularly given the beer consumption of the drivers, and elected to stay there for dinner that night, alas declining JC's kind invitation to an Argentinian restaurant, and then to watch him playing the bongo drums. We hear it was a triumph. We, however, ate trifongo and played a hundred games of Guess Who before going to bed and grudgingly setting our alarm clock for 5:15. 

Up dark and early, we were again deposited at the start line. The regular walkers couldn't have been more delighted at our return. And just like the day before, we set off. All uphill, but lovely scenery. And yet another chinchorro at the end. We decided to circumnavigate the afternoon beer-fueled festivities and paid for a place on the minibus headed back to San Juan. A couple of hours later we were in our new hotel, The Gallery Inn, being disturbed by parrots shouting "hello!" And then out to the rather good Museo de las Americas. This eclectic art/history museum had some high-quality exhibits but we particularly liked a great photo exhibition about "Who we are" as Puerto Ricans in Puerto Rico, and elsewhere in the Americas. We also liked cocktails in their cafe afterwards, facing towards the huge grass expanse around the fort which was clearly the place to be with a kite on a Sunday afternoon. There may have been over a hundred kites. We contemplated them over cheese and cocktails, before heading for one last glorious meal at Marmalade. 

The next morning we mercifully didn't have to awake at 5:15am. We headed out paddleboarding on the Condado Lagoon, the place we first tried paddleboarding. Then it was something obscure; today the lagoon was packed with paddleboarders. So we squeezed under a bridge and pottered our way up a port inlet, hoping not to be squashed by a giant ship. Luckily they were mostly small. As I stared in trepidation at one coming towards us, Roz had to suggest I avert my eyes as without my glasses I hadn't noted the people on board were all naked. Oops. 

After paddleboarding we had lunch, then hired bikes and went cycling, though alas the route wasn't very scenic. So after an hour or so, we returned to a seaside perch with a last Medalla beer and our books and contemplated the horrifying thought that it's 123 days til our next proper holiday. Nooooo. 

BOOKS READ WHILST ON HOLIDAY

Roz: The American Lover (Rose Tremain), Black Swan Green (David Mitchell), The Crysalids (John Wyndham), The Day of the Triffids (John Wyndham) and A Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet (David Mitchell). 

Layla: Shift (Hugh Howey), Dust (Hugh Howey), Black Swan Green (David Mitchell), Fluent in 3 Months (Benny Lewis), and some progress into A Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet (David Mitchell). 

In which Roz and Layla up the adventure quotient of their Caribbean vacation

By Roz

We arrived in St.-Martin after a very choppy ferry ride and found ourselves in a cute port with lots of French cafes etc. I might have cast a longing gaze towards them (not least because of a somewhat menacing looking sky) but Layla was having none of such tame plan and hailed us a cab. We were off in pursuit of a Tripadvisor promise of horse-riding! We arrived at the 'nature park', which entailed going through a dodgy looking industrial park, and I certainly had some doubts. But the woman who greeted us did so very cheerily (if with a certain amount of amusement that we had brought suitcases in odd contrast to their usual cruise clientele) and soon we were booked to go out on a ride at noon. This left us with an hour to spend sipping drinks overlooking the sea and reading our books. But our books got somewhat scant attention as we both enjoyed seeing other groups going out into the sea on their horses... Soon enough it was time for our ride, and our very sweet guide laughed at us for our semi-genuine nerves. Our nerves turned out to be not unfounded, given that Layla had a horse with an enthusiasm for rolling in the sand and mine an enthusiasm for nipping the other's bottom. Notwithstanding these terrors, we had a very cheery ride along trails in the countryside passing cacti and suchlike. The ride concluded with an expedition into the sea, and although neither horse absolutely swum, it was very cool indeed to be up to our chests in the water on horseback. 

From there (having changed) we taxied to the airport and got on board our plane to San Juan, Puerto Rico. As long-standing readers of this blog will know we came here not long after moving to the US so we had worked quite hard in advance to come up with some plans to entertain us during the last part of our holiday that we hadn't already done on our previous trip (successfully, as you will soon see). But it was very cheery to land in San Juan and be back on the cobbled streets and - on this occasion - staying in a small apartment in the heart of the old town. Having dumped our stuff and acquired a few supplies to ensure breakfast for the next two days, we went down to a bar we remembered from last time, ahead of the main event of the evening - dinner in Marmalade. Last time we went it was one of the best meals I've had, and this occasion proved similarly delightful with a four course vegetarian tasting menu (with wine pairing for me). We had beets, and beautifully fragrant gnocchi and fancy mac'n'cheese and felt very cheery to be there. 

We didn't stay up too late that night, though, since the next morning was a very early start. Up before 6 we emerged from our apartment at 6.30 to find a hipster bearded man (our guide for the day) waiting in his pick-up truck. He cheerily greeted us , inspected our shoes to ensure that they would be hard core enough for the day, and then we set off on a 90 minute drive towards the middle of the country and our destination - the Arecibo Observatory. This is the world's largest single-aperture radio telescope and our plan was to go on a giant hike around it. Our guide was very cheery - it turned out that he runs the tour company as a part-time thing and spends the rest of his time working for the US Department of Agriculture as an environmental planner. This meant he had huge enthusiasm for showing us bits of nature (which we were enthusiastic about because of his enthusiasm if you know what I mean). He handed us a couple of life jackets and hard hats (for a hike?) and then we set off. We began with a steep uphill hike giving us a perfect view of the telescope. It was huge - much bigger than I imagined - and it was fun to imagine all the researchers working there, in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. After a bit more hiking in the downwards direction, we found ourselves at a river which circles most of the telescope. And then our guide walked right into it. Thus commenced an energetic, hair-raising but jolly time rock climbing, wading and floating down the river, including through three giant, black, bat-filled caves through which the river ran. We saw nobody else all day, as we traversed miles of glorious forest, stalactite-encrusted walls, and crystal clear gushing water. It felt a little as though we were in a Disney film since it was so lovely and so deserted with beautiful water, little waterfalls and such like - almost cartoonish in its perfection. We slid and clambered and - on one occasion - used the rocks as a big slide into the water (which was simultaneously delightful and terrifying). We declined the high leaps into the water below... After we'd gone several miles, and had a small picnic outside the last bat cave,

 our guide left the water and point to a small piece of red rope, and told us that we just needed to hop up that to get back on to the path. At first I thought he was joking. Then I thought it was impossible. But yoga seems to have given me slightly more arm strength than I knew, and so I hopped. As did Layla, leaving me thinking that her recent gym excursions have not been in vain. We then continued hiking - though being wet from top to tail made this a bit less fun than it was at first. And then, we were back in sight line of the telescope and could even hear signs of other human life. Eventually we got back to the pick-up truck, changed and consumed a vast number of grapes and pita chips with great enthusiasm. And then we headed home to San Juan...

Having showered and de-rivered more generally, we went out for a (slow) wander along the river, stopping for a beer with a sea view and contemplated the cruise ships with interest and trepidation (ahead of our own trip to the UK on the Queen Mary in August). And then, dinner. We found a lovely place, Verde Mesa, with lots of vegetarian food which was really interestingly done. San Juan has such good food. And if brussels sprouts aren't terribly Puerto Rican they are certainly both delicious and very American. So I didn't feel that ashamed. We then went for a wander through the streets - which feel very old Europe if you know what I mean - and stumbled across a movie being shot which we watched for a bit before heading home to read - and then sleep. 

Next morning we had a long lie - by which I mean we got up at 8.15 - and then got our stuff ready for an insane weekend expedition into the mountains. Then we went out for a wander by the old fortress by the water, and  then had a coffee and a contemplation of where we should buy a property in London (a seemingly never ending debate). And then lunch in a cute nearby cafe and then coffee (and finally wifi to post our last blog) ahead of meeting a man called Juan Carlos in a nearby square. And who is Juan Carlos and why are we meeting him, you ask?! Good questions which I shall leave Layla to answer in our next blog. But he is our companion for the weekend and we have high levels of confidence in him despite knowing very little about him because he used to work in Arlington Public Library. Logical indeed. 

In which Layla and Roz sample the Caribbean delights of Anguilla

By Layla

When we told our friends in the deepest of snowy Washington winter that we'd booked a holiday to the Caribbean, their faces were a mixture of 'jealous!', 'wow, you finally booked a normal holiday,' and 'gosh, what's wrong?' Our motivation was to visit our friend living in Anguilla. And so, we ditched our usual adventure for a stretch of beautiful beaches. We got to Anguilla via Sint Marten (Dutch territory), then a 5 minute drive to Saint Martin (French territory) before taking a 25 minute ferry over to Anguilla (British overseas territory). I've never visited so many countries in the space of an hour! 

But soon enough our friend had met us, we'd dumped our bags and we settled in a choice spot, sipping prosecco, on a picture-perfect, almost private little beach looking out onto the Caribbean. Nice. We couldn't resist a dip in the sea to round off the perfect start to a Caribbean holiday. That night we caught up with our friend over wine and food before admiring how rapidly our skin burned... And off to bed. 

The next day our destination was of course the beach, this time Crocus Bay. We acquired loungers, ate lunch at an attractive restaurant with live music, and hired paddleboards. We paddled into the (little) waves all the way past Pelicans and fancy yachts to a picturesque spot called Little Bay. On our return we got lots of street cred for our great paddleboarding finesse. Our friend joined us for a cocktail before returning home to de-sand and then out to Sandy Ground, a little restaurant strip on another picturesque beach where we watched the sun set over the water and negotiated a vegetarian dinner. 

Us being us, by the next day we were restless with all this crazy relaxing. We took a taxi to Island Harbour where we acquired ice creams and joined a school field trip to a miniature golf course, which was very much fun (especially when I won). Then we found the one French bakery on the island and acquired a picnic. Our mission: Windward Point, the easternmost point of Anguilla. We'd heard it was a nice hike but when we asked the minigolf people's advice on how to get to the start of the trail, they were appalled: 'if you asked for our advice, we'd say: don't go!' Luckily one of them was more adventurous and sweetly drove us to a place called Junk Hole. From there we walked down a long sandy track, cooled down with a beer at a single beachside restaurant, and then set off on our adventure. It was cool - but alas not temperature-wise. The sea looked all wild and moody. The lizards scrambled around. The strangest cacti popped up their heads. But there was nothing higher than us in any direction. The sun blazed down with zero shade. We tried. We gasped. We decided to cut out walking loop shorter than originally planned. Still, it was a while in that blazing sun before we eventually hit a road, and then a beachside cafe where we gratefully sunk into shady seats with a beer. 

Afterwards we got a cafe customer to drive us to Shoal Bay East where, after some false starts, we settled on loungers with books and drinks (spotting a pattern?) then hopped into the sea with a rented boogie board for some fun and frolics before returning home by taxi and going out with our friend that evening to the fancy schmancy hotels in the West of the Island for cocktails before an excellent meal at SandBar, and home for Bananagrams. Because we are cool. 

On our final day we walked an hour to Crocus Bay and spent the day on loungers with our books, and persuading the paddleboard people to let us rent them despite the wind... Fortunately we were able to prove our paddleboarding finesse once more after everyone else fell in the water and we suavely glided past sea turtles and flying fish. Very fun. For our last meal, we returned to SandBar. And then first thing today, we hopped on that ferry from Anguilla back to Saint Martin.