We got up in the dark again this morning, as we were getting used to doing. The only way to make comfortable progress on the north coast of the DR in winter is during the lee created by the island cooling off at night. The DR has large high mountains and the cold night air sinks down to the coast keeping the trades off shore during the dark in most conditions.

We had to get around Cabo Frances Viejo and we definitely didn't want to tackle it during the day. The capes on the north coast of Hispaniola create wind on the nose at every point of sail. The wind is already accelerated along the coastline, adding a big cape into the mix makes for even stronger conditions. What's worse, if you stick to the coast in your attempt to head east, as you turn north to follow the cape out the wind will have bent around the cape, coming at you from he north. As you start to round the cape you will see the east trades honking on your nose. Finally as you head back south into the coast, if you make it that far, the wind will again have bent off the coast to get around the cape and blast right at you from the south. You need to head out to sea and deal with the gradient conditions or round the big capes at night.

Our goal was to get around CFV by 8AM as recommended by Van Sant. We made the time window with the wind blowing around 12 knots out of Rio San Juan and in the 15 - 17 zone around the cape. It was some work motor sailing around the cape in the early morning, I can't imagine what it would have been like during the day. Once we got down into the Bahia Escocesa, behind Cabo Cabron (direct translation is "Cape Son of a Bitch") things settled down a bit. The wind dropped from 20 to 19 and then finally settled in around 15 knots as we headed up the coast.

We dropped the sails and started into the area of the anchorage not knowing what to expect. The north coast had been devoid of deep bays once we left Luperon. Rio San Juan was basically an anchorage out in the Atlantic Ocean slightly behind a point and with an island on one side and an invisible reef on the other. Escondido was very different.

Escondido, also known as El Valle, is a deep cut lying well back into the vertical saddle of two towering cliffs. The liquid ravine ends in a beautiful brown sand beach with lush vegetation growing up the black rock faces. The water is the semi-opaque Amazon green found elsewhere along the coast of the DR but it has a beauty all its own. It was one of the most impressive anchorages we have seen. In fact it is on our top three list (Atwood harbor in Acklins Island Bahamas and Big Sand Cay in the TCI are the other two).

The swell comes around the cape and can produce some serious breakers on the beach but the anchorage is set back in 20 feet of water with great holding. You'll get an up/down elevator ride on the hook if the seas are running, and a lot of beautiful surf sounds as well.

We landed the dinghy on the beach with just the oars to avoid problems with the outboard if things went awry. Sorry, but nothing entertaining to report, Roq, Hideko and I effectively stormed the beach on the first shot. I did help our new friends on Blue Jay bail out their dingy after a rough one later that day.

The DR is basically Spanish speaking. If you're not talking to someone who needs English for their gig or an ex-pat you're speaking Spanish. That means we don't do a lot of talking in the DR. There are two or three little bar/restaurants on the West part of the Escondido beach and one lady was particularly avid in soliciting business from everyone who came ashore. The fishermen actually use nets and a dug out canoe to haul in fish. It was fascinating to watch them. The DR is like another world for us, as I imagine it would be for many.

Blue Jay, a 40ish foot Jay Boat, was one of the boats in the Rio San Juan anchorage last night and was anchored in Escondido when we arrived. It is a British flagged boat with a German skipper, Spanish girlfriend and Italian crew mate. Talk about the EU. Mathius, the skipper, hailed us as we entered the harbor to see if we knew the whereabouts of the other boat from Rio San Juan, Alma. They had left RSJ at 10PM the night before (we left at 4:30AM that day) and were unaccounted for. Alma was a stout classic mono hull skippered by Johnny, also an Italian.

Shortly after we settled back in on the boat Alma arrived and anchored nearby. It was good to see them. Apparently they had headed off shore to pass all of the capes and got outside of the night lee, thence taking a bit of a beating. They sailed the whole way though!

It seemed like a mixer was in order so we called them all over for a sundowner and snacks. I mixed up a selection of rum drinks and Hideko kept bringing out snacks until we all decided to pass on supper. It was an interesting and wonderful group. Both of the other boats had decided to stay for a second night due to the charm of the anchorage. We unfortunately were on a mission and need to be moving on pre dawn.

Hideko and I had been working on our plan for the Mona Passage for several days. The Mona is infamous and it is a long way from Escondido to Boqueron, Puerto Rico. It would be our longest voyage yet. Using all of the information in the Van Sant book (again, don't do the DR without it), our DMA and MapTech charts, help from Chris Parker on the SSB, and all of the weather fax, GRIB and spot forecast data we could collect, we were ready. My only trepidation was leaving such a beautiful place with a strong feeling that I would never see it again.