The Salto

My pueblo is situated in a shallow valley in the Cordillera Oriental, the most eastern chain of mountains in the province of El Seibo. The surrounding hills are riddled with caves and laced with winding and drunken pathways that lead to hidden pastures, waterholes and fruit groves. One of these paths threads north, shadowing the river until it ends at the salto, the big waterfall. Usually the caminos are rather well-kept simply because of traffic, but apparently the scenic route to the salto has been unpopular as of late. We battled vines, bushes, roots, rocks, ants, centipedes, starving mosquitoes, thorns, and most painful of all pringamosa, the stinging, rash-inducing bush that seemed to be around every corner.

It was a wild, lush and tropical scene when we finally made it to the river, like a scene out of Indiana Jones. The deep pools ringed by the moss-darkened boulders, vines draping through the dappling sunlight, soft clouds of mosquitoes humming above the water’s surface, flittering butterflies along the banks. We never did make it to the salto, too slippery, overgrown and impassable. But we discovered several gorgeous swimming holes and rock slides and the cold water soothed our many scrapes, bites and scratches. Beautiful view, most of which are unrecorded because the terrain was too peligroso even for a camera.