Pico Duarte

The tallest mountain outside of the Rockies-Andes chain sits right here in the DR – Pico Duarte. At 3,087 meters, over 10,000 feet, Pico Duarte towers at the center of Hispaniola and the Cordillera Central, or central mountain range, of the DR and Haiti. Begging to be conquered, Pico Duarte has received intrepid PCV trekkers as long as we have been on the island. Climbing this mountain is requisite as one of those activities to be accomplished before close of service. Early spring is supposed to be, and usually is, a drier time of the year, and so four PCVs, a Stateside visitor and I took the bait and climbed Pico Duarte last weekend. We choose the shortest and most populous route, beginning at a small mountain valley village called La Ciénaga. There, we picked up our guides (a middle-aged man, who was recently a host father to an area PCV, and his 13-year-old son), mules (one pregnant) and provisions and set on our way.
Being not the especially outdoorsy type, I lacked the necessary tools for the hike. Luckily for me, my fellow hikers were more prepared, or at least thought that cold weather was possible here. And as it is really, really tall, Pico Duarte is cold. Really, quite cold. Such that I live in a sea level valley on a tropical island, I own here one sweatshirt and a jacket with holes that I have used only during hurricanes and a few times in December-January. So, having good and sensible friends, I was lent some sensibly warm clothing and sleeping gear.

The first day, we left in good spirits, as the trail starts off warm, wide and flat. By the time we stopped for serious calorie intake, however, the wind turned chilly, the sky gray, and my stomach rumbled. Hopped up on peanut butter, we set off again. The gray sky lowered itself over us, bringing stinging drizzle and ankle-deep mud. This was certainly the coldest I’d ever been in coutry. No matter. At 5 p.m. we arrived at the campsite, having climbed 1300 meters. Exhausted and freezing, we found that we were sharing a large camping lodge with eleven Norwegians who live in Cabarete and were studying physical education and an American couple on honeymoon who had met in the DR.

The next day, we set out early and with sun. The campsite sits only five kilometers away and 600 meters below the actual peak. We reached the summit by ten a.m. to a stunning view of the surrounding mountain range and imminent rainclouds. On the very top rose a bust of Duarte himself and a slightly tattered Dominican flag with a number of fading plaques below deeming it a place of import and proclaiming international friendship.


Sure enough, it was raining by the time we arrived back at the campsite. In the afternoon, a sort of international incident transpired between the Americans and Norwegians when one group apparently took firewood, a limited resource, from another group’s pile. Nasty glances ensued and each party went to bed on separate sides of the room.

The next morning, the Norwegians took their leave early as yours truly spent some quality time in the conveniently located bathroom (use purification tablets next time). We made it down the mountain by mid-afternoon in a soaking rain. Muddy, exhausted, and highly pleased with ourselves, our party of six finished hiking 2000 meters in altitude and 23 km in distance, each way, and with time to spare for a little celebratory Brugal.