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Thanks to Johnny Depp pirates are now popular; however, even before the successful movie, Pirates of The Caribbean was my favorite ride at Walt Disney World. Despite the less than realistic animatronics (the ride has been recently revamped) and the corniness of the cheery depictions of pillage and plunder, I found the sense of adventure on the high seas extremely alluring.

But there was something more that attracted me to that particular ride. Those pirates and I had something in common for I too hail from the Caribbean. In fact, in my hometown of Camuy in the North coast of Puerto Rico stories abound of pirates and bootleggers using a place called Puerto Hermina as a trading post and storehouse for their loot. My uncle who is an old salt liked to reminisce about the time he and his mate discovered an anchor from a Spanish galley. He claimed that the anchor was part of the remnants of Admiral Bobadilla’s lost fleet and theorized that sunken treasure would no doubt lay somewhere along this coast.

Even though the North coast of Puerto Rico lies on the Atlantic Ocean and not on the turquoise sea for which the famed pirates are named, it is not hard to imagine why they would choose this coast as a base of operation and hiding place for their booty. The North coast, particularly towards the Western end of Camuy and along the neighboring town of Quebradillas, known as the pirate city, is dominated by cliffs with very few natural ports. At some places the beach can only be accessed via jungle trails and old creek beds.

Puerto Hermina is such a place. The remnants of a small stone structure, four walls with no roof, are perched on a low stone ledge rising a few feet from a narrow white sand beach at the mouth of a creek. These days a winding concrete road (if you can call it that) provides access to structure from the cliff side; however, in olden days, the rising tide must have blocked all access to the structure from the beach or the creek bed. As a boy scout I used to hike along the creek bed past the large concrete cylinders that once served as the foundation for the pilings of the now defunct railway bridge to reach the port. During one of those excursions, a couple of my troop mates and I lost our way in the woods surrounding the port and had to wade through knee high water in the rising tide to reach the port where the rest of our comrades were awaiting us.

I recently had a chance to revisit the site of my childhood adventures; however, this wasn’t as easy as it sounds. Despite the fact that there is now a recreational area located at the site of the old port, most people I know seemed kind of fuzzy on exactly how to get down there. This was further complicated by the fact that most locals don’t navigate by maps or road numbers and road signage is minimal at best. People will commonly give directions using landmarks like “the hang man’s tree” or “the plot owned by Juan the son of Don Jacinto.”

During my last two trips I have spent a significant amount of time driving the area’s narrow lanes and have even hiked down a couple of trails into hidden coves and practically deserted beaches. In one occasion, my brother in law told me about a track that he claimed was accessible by 2WD vehicle and that led onto a hidden cove near his house where he used to fish. I knew this cove was not the one where the port was located but I suspected that it must lie somewhere close by. I figured that I might be able to reach the site by walking west along the beach. Most of the access to the ocean in this area runs through private land; however, I was told that the owner of this plot allowed access to campers for a fee.

The field overlooking the cove was so overgrown that it was hard to tell where the track started. One thing was for sure, the sedan we were driving on that trip was certainly not up for the job so we set off on foot. Soon after we hacked our way through the brush at the top and started down the barely visible path, a rocky double track in decent shape emerged. The steep grade, loose rock and some badly rutted sections made it doubtful that this road could be traversed in anything other than a decent 4×4 or ATV in its present condition.

At the bottom of the track we emerged onto the remnants of a structure that had been reclaimed by the foliage even though it appeared much newer than the one I was looking for. Just beyond the palm trees there was a narrow strip of sand littered with rocks leading to a clear blue ocean. Near the end of the road there was a slab of rock that led directly into the ocean almost like a natural boat ramp. The rocky shore didn’t seem to be any good for swimming but was no doubt popular with local surfers as evidenced by the two guys sitting on their boards just offshore despite the lack of decent surf that day. I started down the beach towards the West but it seemed to be quite hike to the next cove and I was running out of time. Furthermore, I couldn’t even tell if I would be able to get through as we appeared to be surrounded by cliffs.

On our last trip, we heard of a development that was going up on a plateau directly above Puerto Hermina. We asked around and learned that it was near an area we had explored before; however, we had turned on a road that seemed to take us nearer to the beach. As it turns out, if we had just kept going straight we would have run directly into the road leading down to the port. As we started down the steep concrete driveway, it was evident that even the smallest downpour would turn this into a slippery deathtrap. I held my breath hoping that nobody was coming the other way and continued to wind my way down to sea level. At the bottom, there was a rocky coastline to the left side of the path and with a few open bungalows for picnicking to the right along the sheer cliff face. We drove to the end of the road and walked the last few yards through the rocks to the familiar structure. After all that the port seemed a lot less remote than I remembered. Despite this it is always nice to relive the adventures of one’s youth even when the world has become a lot smaller…