"Holy Mother," shrieked my normally unflappable guide as a truck laden with cabbages careered towards us on the wrong side of the winding Caribbean road. I held my breath as we swerved; trying to ignore the precipitous drop just inches away and steeled myself for the collision that, thankfully, never came as the truck managed to squeeze, Houdini-like, through a tiny gap.
In that split second, I realised why the tiny roadside chaplagoel we had visited earlier was such an essential stop for motorists: they wanted to light a candle and pray for a safe onward journey.
It seems drivers in the Dominican Republic are not noted for caution, and I reflected that this trip to the mountains could well become far more of an experience than I had anticipated. Read the rest of this article on The Telegraph travel section, written by Sara Macefield
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