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The mountain pass at this point is
1720 feet above sea-level and is the lowest one in twenty miles. At
the station on the other side of the mountain a fifteen minute stop is
made for lunch. Then begins a rapid descent along a deep valley, on
the wooded slopes of which little houses peer out between the trees.
The town of Altamira, on a knob in the middle of the valley, is
passed, and further down, near Bajabonico, a small sugar plantation.
Another ascent, on which is the old rack-road section, is now
reached; a powerful mountain engine is placed before the train and
slowly works its way up. From the top of the ridge the scene is
magnificent. Below, in the far distance, Puerto Plata is seen, a
miniature city with tiny bright-colored houses, nestling at the foot
of the great verdure-covered cone, Mt. Isabel de Torres; before it
lies its almost circular harbor with what look like toy ships riding
at anchor; the foam of the breakers on the reefs at the harbor
entrance gleams in the sunlight; and beyond, in vast immensity extends
the blue expanse of the ocean.


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