The tree-lined lagoon glowed with colors usually only seen on mouthwash shelves, and fallen branches looked like grasping hands beneath the clear water. The rocks at the bottom were either a few feet deep or impossibly deep, but the clarity of the water made it impossible to tell what they were.
Hoyo Claro, a spring-fed pool known in the Dominican Republic as a cenote, is just a few miles inland from our luxury all-inclusive beach resort in Punta Cana, but it felt like another world.
If the Dominican Republic’s sandy Caribbean beaches are its face, its streams, rivers and cenotes are its veins, arteries and heart. Its capital, Santo Domingo, is bounded by three rivers – the Haina, Isabela and Ozama – where the Spanish conquerors built their first fort in the Americas in 1496. Sharing the island of Hispaniola with Haiti to the west, the country is crisscrossed with waterways and dotted with those enchanting neon blue cenotes.
My Dominican friends discouraged my plans last summer to rent a car and visit the rivers and cenotes on my own. The country has a reputation for being a bit rough, and the U.S. State Department’s advisories back that up, warning Americans to exercise extra caution when traveling in the Dominican Republic. And it has the highest road death rate in the Americas, with 65 out of 100,000 Dominicans killed in traffic accidents each year, according to World Bank data.
Instead, I traveled with two of my friends, Hogra Enecia Pérez and Manuel Herrera, over rough dirt roads that are better walked than driven. Hogra rented a car for us to go to one river, and one day Manuel used his cousin’s four-wheel drive SUV to drive me and his family to other watering holes. In the Dominican Republic, small rural pools like Hoyo Claro are marked only by small plastic signs that are barely visible from the road, so finding them is a great way to experience Dominican warmth and hospitality. Make sure to pull over and ask a local for directions.
Find a place to swim and dip into the cool, clear water and you may feel, as I did when I dove underwater, that you are feeling the pulse of the Dominican Republic.
The magic of mangroves
To protect myself from the midday sun, I stood in the shade of a mangrove in the jade-colored waters of the Rio Caño Frio, a cool waterway on the north shore of the Samaná Peninsula. I was up to my chest in water, but I could still see where my toes had curled in the sand. I wanted to stay rooted there forever, but Hogra waved me out.
A barefoot local led us into a lush forest, where after a few minutes’ walk along a path lined with wild orchids, we reached three ponds, where thickets of trees, fallen logs and other natural barriers divide the river into smaller sections. The first pond is nicknamed “Love,” the second “Children,” and the last “Divorce.” Our guide told us that these ponds have mystical powers. If you want to find true love, jump into the “Love” pond. If you want more children, jump into the second pond. If you want a divorce… he smiled.
To enter Love Pool, a circle of emerald green bordered by the shaggy gray branches of mangroves, we first had to balance precariously on a tangle of roots and branches. We both hesitated. Looking down, we had no idea how deep the water was or if the bottom was soft. Maybe there were rocks? Finally we dove in. The water was cold and fairly shallow, and fortunately the bottom was sandy.
The kiddie pool was easy to get into, with white sand gradually sloping into a shallow lagoon, stained a vibrant pale green reminiscent of Roman glass. There was no shade like the first pool, so my head was hot in the sun even though I had goosebumps below the surface.
Hogra and I warmed ourselves on the trunk of a fallen tree that had split the lagoon in two, enjoying the comfort of shedding our sweaters on the first warm day of spring.
The bright aquamarine water of the Divorce Pool was the clearest, shaded, and most inviting of the three, but superstition prevented us from swimming in it. Hogra and I were already divorced, and we didn’t want to go through that ordeal again.
Instead, we headed to nearby Rincon Beach, where a row of small, colorful huts served a variety of local dishes cooked in clay ovens. We had fresh lobster and octopus, two plates of homemade tostones, and a heaping serving of pigeon peas and rice cooked Samana style, with coconut milk. All told, we paid 1,500 pesos (about $26). We sipped fresh coconut water spiked with local rum (300 pesos) straight from a blue coconut shell with the top sliced off with a machete.
Bring a cooler and keep it cool
Not far away, on the Samaná Peninsula, nestled between two verdant mountains, the golden sands of Valley Beach are the perfect place to spend time watching the sun dance on the blue waters of the Atlantic. At the beach’s western end, tiny but untouched Rio San Juan (not to be confused with the municipality of the same name, a few hours’ drive northwest), locals lounge by the water with coolers packed with drinks and snacks.
With trees nestled gently around the edges of dramatic rock cliffs, the river offers a cool, quiet retreat after being tossed about by the raging Atlantic. Overhanging trees shade the narrow, shallow water as it curves gracefully into emerald-green vegetation. I followed Manuel, his wife, and their two children into the river and was surprised to find that they knew the other families there, despite being quite a distance from Santo Domingo. The group chattered and gossiped while the kids ran between the river and the sea.
If you don’t want to bring a cooler, you can buy food on the beach, but it’s a bit more expensive than in Rincon: ask one of the informal beach workers about lunch and you’ll get a whole fish pulled from the sea, fried in a little roadside restaurant, with rice and pigeon peas for around 2,000 pesos.
Deceptively transparent
Butterflies flitted ahead of us, and goats kept watch along the half-mile dirt road that led deep into the forest to Hoyo Claro, a cenote near the beach resort of Punta Cana. It was a Sunday morning, and the place was empty except for one family, and the air was still. Dark rocks, fallen leaves, and tall, slender trees that seemed to have roots straight into the water like grasping fingers stood at the pool’s edge. Their brown trunks mottled with gray contrasted vividly with the fluorescent water.
There are steps, but I slowly waded into the cold water from the sandy bank. As I waded in, small fish swam all around me. I put my head under the water and suddenly the water didn’t seem so cold.
I tried to wiggle my way to reach a rock at the bottom of the pool, but the clear water played tricks on my eye; the rock appeared much closer than it actually was, and was out of reach. The water also distorted the distance to a fallen tree trunk; I overestimated its distance from the water’s surface, and ended up with bruises on my calves. That same tree trunk doubled as a bench when I got tired of swimming or floating, or wanted to let my bruises heal.
Take a Leap
My calves were still sore as I stood on the platform above the cenote in Indigenous Eyes Ecological Reserve. I considered diving 10 feet into the turquoise water, a blue accentuated by the giant amber rocks that cover the lagoon floor. Would the water be deep enough? Would I break my leg or worse on the rocks below? A Spanish tourist jumped in and waved at me. He was OK.
Still, I hesitated.
Fed by the Yauya River, the reserve has 13 lagoons, four of which are swimmable and two have diving platforms. When I arrive at the first, Laguna Inrili, it’s quiet and nearly deserted, save for a pregnant woman floating silently on her back, her body casting a cross shadow on the smooth rocks at the bottom. Branches with emerald-green leaves lean over the pool, edging its edge in shadow. A well-maintained path leads to the second lagoon, and I stand above a group of Spanish tourists urging me to enter.
Resisting no longer, I dove in. The soles of my feet first touched the cold water, and then I was completely engulfed. My lungs convulsed at the sudden submersion, and I shot up to the surface, gasping for breath. Tropical warmth and humidity filled my mouth, and as my body adjusted, a sense of complete peace took over me. I looked at the rocks below and imagined them to be cracks in the earth. I was approaching something essential; the origin of the world, or perhaps myself. I lay on my back and looked up at a cloudless blue sky framed by foliage that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. The light reflected off the rippling water and painted wavy lines on the trees that arched over the pool.
Manuel broke me out of my reverie. “Let’s go,” he called out. “There’s still more cenotes to see.” Reluctantly, I swam up to the steps.
As I rose into the warm water, the coldness of the water lingered on my head and back, and for the first time in my life I understood the meaning of the expression “spine tingling.” A tingling sensation spread from my neck to a point between my shoulder blades. It felt like the water had a power like the life force of the entire country. That tingling sensation remained with me as I went to see other cenotes with Manuel.
If you go
The Dominican Republic Ministry of Tourism website lists 18 cenotes and springs, including Hoyo Claro and Indigenous Eyes Ecological Reserve. There are a few ways to get there yourself.
Hire a guide: Many hotels offer day trips for a fee. If your hotel doesn’t offer day trips to these locations, some can help you arrange them. You can also hire a local tour guide. The website toursbylocals.com is one way to connect with guides. For Spanish speakers, the Facebook group Viajando a República Dominicana also seems to be a good resource for tours, guides, and tips.
Car Rental: All major car rental companies, including Enterprise, Budget, and Hertz, operate in the Dominican Republic. Rates vary based on vehicle type and availability. Local liability insurance is mandatory. The Ministry of Tourism recommends making sure that the insurance you purchase from the rental company also includes “casa del conductor” insurance. This insurance will keep you out of jail if you get into an accident. (In serious accidents, the police will take those involved to jail until the case is resolved, but with this type of insurance you can stay in a motel.) Although there are quite a few car accidents in the Dominican Republic, it is relatively safe for tourists to drive. Just make sure you drive defensively, be cautious, and watch out for motorbikes.
Public transport: The Dominican Republic has an excellent public transport system, and you can catch a bus to the nearest major city to visit the cenotes and rivers. However, three of the four destinations are quite remote, so you’ll need to arrange for a local driver to get you from town to the swimming area. The exception is Indigenous Eyes, which is a sanctuary located within the Puntacana Resort and Club. You’ll likely be able to get there by local taxi or Uber.
Guarnieri is a freelance writer. This article was published in The New York Times.
First published: March 3, 2024, 9:00 AM
