Set above the Jimenoa River, which provides a soothing soundtrack as it roars past, the resort has 65 modern, tastefully decorated rooms, a pool and a spectacular al fresco dining area high above the water. (Photo: Eric Putter)

Kickstands up before 9:00, today’s destination was the Grand Paradise Samana resort, located on the eastern tip of the Samana Peninsula. A light rain dampened enthusiasm for canyon carving on our way up to this morning’s coffee stop at Rancho La Cumbre restaurant, fittingly located in Moca. Approaching the road’s peak, damned if I didn’t see a studious-looking kid under a tree on the side of the road with his face buried in a laptop computer.

While the others sipped java from dainty white cups, I headed back downhill to find 22-year-old Pither Sanchez Rodriguez doing his college homework. Outside his multi-hued home. While tethered to the Internet via a cellular modem. He’s one of the country’s estimated 3 million web-enabled netizens. Turns out that the DR’s cell tower infrastructure is much better developed than its old-school landlines. The wonders of modern technology never cease to amaze.

From Moca, we careened down what visiting American motorcyclists call Tail of the Iguana, a clear riff on a particularly undulating portion Highway 129 in Deals Gap, Tennessee, know as Tail of the Dragon.

It was a 45-minute ride to Gaspar Hernandez, then an hour to La Entrada, where we got our first glimpse of the DR’s postcard-worthy beaches--in a much more analog setting. Shaded by palm trees, while we were enjoying lazy Atlantic Ocean waves gently rolling up the beach, MotoCaribe’s van suddenly lumbered through the sand, rudely breaking the serenity. A chipper Alida jumped out and promptly unfolded a no-frills picnic with furniture from the Caribbean version of Costco and local take-out fare from Parador de Todo.

Continuing on our path to Samana, Highway 5 was a moving picture show of ocean, palm trees, rice paddies, resorts and those ubiquitous roadside shanties, the occupants going about their day on the ninth most populated island in the world.

Time for a roadside reality check. While leading the group, I spotted a rope stretched across the 60-mph thoroughfare. Baffled and flustered, I rolled the ‘Strom to a stop. When the offenders dropped the line and reached out their hands, I gassed it and escaped without sustaining bodily harm. Not less than 10 minutes later, another posse loomed in the distance. Mad as hell at these jokers for possibly endangering my life, I pointed the bike straight at them in a game of chicken. The rope went limp as they dispersed.

Upon reflection, I figured that this “personal donation” trick was one way the locals subsist in a country with a 13 percent unemployment rate among its 10 million inhabitants. I later learned that this is a perfectly legitimate practice, usually undertaken to collect charitable contributions for everything from surgery to school proms. As a guest in their neighborhood, I vowed to better follow local customs should it happen again.

In contrast to the toll collectors, it’s estimated that one in seven citizens work at the Dominican Republic’s many resorts. After the tour’s longest day, a 200-mile jaunt in the saddle, we arrived at the Grand Paradise. This all-inclusive, beachfront property has 248 rooms, 50 quaint bungalows, three pools, an array of non-motorized water-sports equipment, a trio of bars, a 24-hour supply of food and drinks, a disco and other nightly entertainment, including spectacularly colorful live performances.

Heavy overnight rains led to sprinkles by the time we shoved off on a day of natural wonders, but the streaming sun gradually chased the clouds away. The DR enjoys a tropical maritime climate with little seasonal temperature variation. Rain showers are generally brief, but can be frequent. Luckily, we only ran into a few light, fast-moving showers throughout the tour. During MotoCaribe’s tour season, from December until May, daytime highs hover in the 70s and 80s everywhere except the mountains, which can be a refreshing 10 degrees cooler.

But the day wasn’t dictated by weather. First, we went spelunking in a stalactite-rich cave. A 10-pound flashlight illuminated bats taking flight as our voices echoed off the walls. Next stop was a blowhole carved out of lava rocks lining a craggy shoreline below. At low tide, it wasn't much of a blowhard. Reportedly, when timed perfectly, it will launch a coconut into the stratosphere.

La Cascada Salto El Limon was easily the most dramatic attraction of the day. From the stables at Parada #5, we accessed this 200-foot drop via a 30-minute horseback ride before an aerobic climb up and down innumerable steps carved into the hillside. Equal parts waterfall, swimming hole and informal Dominican Extreme Diving Championship precipice, it teemed with happy ecotourists watching locals precariously scale the rocky cliff through fast-moving water, then plunge into the pool below--some headfirst, others jumping right-side up. In sight of our final stop, we returned to find another awesome Dominican lunch of rice, beans, beef, chicken and anise-infused fried yucca (pronounced “jooka” by the natives) set out at by local legend Dona Nega and her family who organize these equine-fueled excursions to the falls.

The final leg of the trip was decidedly vehicularly satisfying. Returning to Samana, we tossed the hefty V-Stroms left and right over a mountain pass that might as well been laid out in California’s serpentine coastal mountains. This was the first time we employed body English to hustle the Suzukis into and out of corners.

Dominicans are moto-crazy. Of the 2.5 million registered vehicles, 1.8 million are two-wheelers, mostly 125cc or less. Considering that many more bikes than cars cruise this tiny country’s 12,000 miles of roads, it’s not unusual to see entire families riding three- and four-up on smoky mopeds, plastic-encased scooters and small motorcycles of all ilk. But bikes don’t come cheap on the island. We saw financing on new Yamahas offered at 36 percent APR.

Unlike American riders, Dominican motocyclists enjoy exclusive benefits such as being exempt from highway tolls and parking on sidewalks. As mentioned earlier, they also engage in a unique form of lane sharing. Rules of the road are quite simple in the DR: slower vehicles always stay to the right; block bigger vehicles from passing at your peril; use the bike’s horn often to alert moto riders, car drivers, truckers, pedestrians domesticated animals and livestock to your impending presence--but never in anger. As in many countries, one rides by custom, not the rule of law.

Holy tail of the lobster! A MotoCaribe edict was announced on New Year’s Eve day. This law established a lazy 24 hours rest. It was interrupted only by a lobster-laden lunch on the beach in Playa Rincon and a 200-item grand buffet for dinner, which included, you guessed it, more of those beautiful, tasty crustaceans.

On the way back to Jarabacoa, we bypassed the beach route taken to Samana and headed for higher, twistier ground. Soon, we found ourselves at Tourist Boulevard of the Atlantic. Connecting Las Terrenas with the airport in El Catey, it looks like California’s famed Angeles Crest Highway, north of Los Angeles--without the bumpy, frost-heaved pavement, tar snakes, motosquids and cops. This brand-new stretch of pristine pavement wends its way through canyons carved out of the hillsides before dropping down to the beach. Of course, motos are free on this toll road; cars drivers pay $11.50.