El Yunque

Fresh off our successful adventure yesterday, we are back in the car today headed east to El Yunque (the highest peak on the island). The whole area is a national park, so we first stop at the information center to get a sense for what there is to see. There are some maps with a number of points of interest, but the highlight for me is the Soup Nazi of a man sitting behind the counter, going through his monotone pitch (that he is clearly just mailing in), and finishing up with a Fez-worthy “Good Day!”.

One of the most popular stops in the park is the La Mina waterfall (the first picture . It’s about a half-mile hike in from the road, but if waterfalls are your thing (I’m a fan, Angela, not so much), swimming in the cool water and in behind the falls themselves is a nice respite from the humid jungle. Our timing is also impeccable as the tour groups start arriving en masse just as we are finishing up.

Back in the car we drive a bit further up the mountain to a smaller tourist station and decide to hike a few trails. A good half mile in, Joey declares that his body is all finished with what is left of his Pinchos – now. The options are pretty slim in the jungle when you’re a good 20 minutes from the nearest facilities, so what better time for a life lesson on the utility of leaves (and the dangers of choosing poorly).

Crisis averted, we head back down to the tourist station, where Mom gets some new tips from a much more enthusiastic park ranger named Carlos. He tells us of a place back down the mountain that the locals go, where there is a river deep enough for swimming and a rope swing for the kids. The top of El Yunque is socked in with clouds and doesn’t show much promise of clearing up, so we opt to take Carlos up on his advice and head down.

It takes a bit of trying to find the spot (after our first attempt is aborted to get more gas), but it definitely lives up to expectations. The boys have an absolute blast, and we end up staying the rest of the afternoon, playing in the water, swinging on the rope, and playing on the rocks. By the time we are finally ready to leave, we’re about the only ones left.

On the hike back to the car, Sam tells me he is such a fan of Carlos that he is going to tattoo his name on his shoulder. Fortunately, he’s 9 and with his parents, because a 20 year old Sammy on Spring Break with his buddies might wake up with some regrets.