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).