GPzMike Abroad

Back to the Jacmal MHB 2 journey.

We stayed at La Cevadia where they had repaired the little hour glass shaped swimming pool from the earthquake. It was nice to be able to take a dip in a fresh water pool after going for a long snorkel session in the ocean. Nothing of much interest to report from snorkeling: rather barren section of ocean but I did push my boundaries by heading out of the cove into the open water and swimming. around. I kept the hotel in site but as I was not with anyone it was just a tad scary with the "'what if's" bouncing around in my head.

Alidia was dying for a hot shower so we did a bit of an upgrade on the room..but in the end we payed the same rate which surprised me. The rooms at La Cevadia are very simple but complete except for a shower head. Still haven't figured that one out. I've been to another hotel that didn't have a shower head as well. Perhaps since the water is generally fed by a gravity system from a cyctern on the rooftop it does not have sufficient pressure to be worthwhile? I dunno. Just a thought.

The following day we decided we should head out to find this legendary water fall outside of Jacmal. So with a belly of adventuresome spirit and some fouled up directions from a local (either due to language or due to just bad directional information we are not sure) of we went. We ended up traveling pretty much the opposite direction from the waterfalls and to make matters worse we forgot the name of the falls so asking the Haitians along the way was pretty much useless. We travelled far up a river on the motorcycle making 8 or so river crossings in the poor thing. Some were deep and fast enough that I was needing to point 'er upstream, use my legs as rudders, and keep it wound up pretty high to maintain momentum and get thru before the air box could fill with water. It was a total hoot!

So on up this river we a-go. At one point we've got a Mack dump truck following along behind us. We are in a race with him as we sure don't want to try crossing behind him: he churns up the water something terrible. He churns along without slowing no matter the terrain or water levels. We, on the other hand, having never done any cycle-boat navigating must size up each river crossing - vectoring our angle of attack and our point of entry given it's width, probable depth, and estimated current velocity. It's a mighty formula and the penalty for miscalculating is a hydro locked engine and water in the oil requiring at the least a purge of the combustion chamber (for which we do NOT have a spark plug removal tool) and a prayer and at worst a seized engine an entire mountain range from home base. Or getting squished by the Mack dump truck. At one point we see a fellow coming down the river but I can tell right away he's not on the chinese crap we are riding. As we near one another on the rocky single-track I can't believe my eyes as the lines of a Honda Rebel reveals itself against the blinding white rocks and boulders of the dry river bottom. We stop and laugh with one another: he that we are du blan (2 whites) way out in the middle of bfe (look it up) and we that he's managed to navigate a Honda Rebel with its notoriously low ride height up into the rugged terrain.

After 2 hours or so we are finally at the limit of the bike: the boulders are larger than we can navigate and we have still not found the 'alto agua' (my bastardized spanish translation for 'waterfall'...which of course is NOT what the location is called in any way shape or form since bison blu means blue basin referring to the 3 bowls of water that make up the waterfall).

Instead we are directed by a couple of women to follow them to the alto agua. We park the bike and start walking up a hillside trail. A spry little ole man takes over for the laundry beheaded women and proudly shows us the community cistern and the 4 inch black abs pipe feeding it from up-country.

We wonder around it for a moment smiling and then shake our heads and ask for the alto agua. And so this little guy leads us further up the mountain and after a spell gives us some hand gestures and sends us on our way. We are in the middle of nowhere but there is the evidence of inhabitation all around us: we wonder thru at least 4 voodoo like cemeteries, small orchards, and the back and front yards of various dwellings.

Somewhere along the line we pick up another little ole man guide who smilingly waves us forward toward the alto agua we du blan so desperately seek....only to come to another lovely cistern with a 4 inch black abs pipe on both ends. One end has a leak and we refresh ourselves under it as the sun in, as always, blazing away on us.

But still we inquire about the 'alto agua' not yet realizing we ARE being shown the alto agua. And so...you guessed it...up the mountain we go. Luckily I'm in boots as I figured the control for the motorcycling in the terrain we were likely to encounter would demand it. But Alidia, ever the optimist, was in flip-flops. Within 100 feet our guide ran into another fellow coming down off the mountain and after a conversation between to two of them we were handed off to this new fellow who promptly reversed his direction and took us up higher still. Along the way he pointed out where the black abs pipe was buried. By now were were starting to get a new picture of what was really going on: despite Alidia's flip flops we looked like some sort of water inspection personnel on a survey trip.

When we finally stopped climbing up the trail we were treated to the headwaters of the system: a cistern into with was flowing water right as it came up out of the ground. Here was the alto de la alto agua (pardon the mixed genders). We drank, we nodded appreciatively, we circled and asked questions about it...and then we headed back down.

By now it was known that there were du blan on the mountain and as we passed folk on the trail we greeted with smiles without any hint of surprise at seeing such an anomaly. Don't know how they knew, but the news did seem to travel.

We were by now somewhat lost but just kept our feet heading down and figured we hit one of the dry riverbeds at some point and be able to guesstimate our position relative to the bike parked somewhere in the area. Once we worked that out and located the bike we were delighted to see that the original guide had taken time from his day to pick us about 20 passion fruits (Alidia's favorite fruit as she was able to convey to him on the way up the path hours earlier).

We were getting worried about heavy clouds in the mountains further up river as  the shadows began to lengthen so with hearty handshakes and the sharing of some goude (local money...40gd=$1us) we rambled our way out of the tributary.

But the bike was handling strangely. I chose to believe it was just me and it would go away. But as we went thru the first river crossing I had to take a look at the rear tire (well, to be accurate we waited to look at it until after we'd finished the crossing).

Next: the ride out, and the finish of the MHB2 fun.