I know I’m getting near my destination of Rincon (in Spanish: cozy corner) when I pass a bare-footed yellow-haired surfer-type with a happy dog at his heels. I’ve seen the type in San Diego, California, and Sayulita, Mexico, and Goa, India, and Pescadero, Baja Mexico. This western end of Puerto Rico reminds me just a bit of Maui, with its pastures that meet the palms that meet the blue sea.
At my humble Rincon Inn hostel bunk room I meet two Portuguese surfer girls (who live on a simple diet of Chips Ahoys, Sugarpops, and Mini-Oreos in a tub.), a buzz-cut Aussie who fries up bacon strips and watches Friends re-runs all day long, and a sweet down-to-earth young couple I immediately size up as from my neck of the woods. Sure enough, they are from Seattle’s little sister, the earthy, quirky and way too hip for its own good, Portland, Oregon. We compare notes as I continue clockwise, and they venture counter-clockwise around the island. My last day at the Inn, Amanda, just arriving from a six-month job in the Virgin Islands, shares her observations. She shows up with a heavy sigh of relief, happy to (in her words) "get out of the super hustle, rudeness and less than open attitudes of the Islands." We have a nice chat about why we travel and how we view the world.
I spend a couple of days enjoying the simple things that Rincon has to offer and find the comfortable coffee hangout, Banana Dang!, found by driving past Rincon’s central plaza to the curvy ridge roads where several little bars and restaurants are found. It’s my new go-to place, where one may order the “Nutty Dang” peanut butter shake, “Dang Berry” smoothie, or savor a slice of Banana Rum cake. 
At the end of Rincon’s coast road sits the white-washed lighthouse, and just past that a curious site: surfers lined up at the break known as “Domes” for the strange green-domed nuclear power plant that dominates the shore. I sit out a torrential rain storm at Tamboo beach bar, just feet from the percolating surf, and overhear locals compare wave-riding stories at Calypso, a bright green and yellow porch restaurant on the water.
Next I drive northward and check out the dunes and surf spots around Isabela. Here, the traffic wanes and the scenery is interesting, with its craggy points and coves. I find a little shoreline restaurant, enjoy a conch salad, and then dip into the rolling waves. As I emerge from the water, a downpour challenges my efforts to dry off. The torrent keeps up as I follow the coast eastward now, toward Arecibo, where scientists hope to communicate with extraterrestrials someday.
Arecibo Observatory, in the northwestern hills of Puerto Rico, is the world’s largest radio telescope. Operated by Cornell University with National Space Foundation and NASA support, it listens for signals from the heavens 24 hours a day (think “Contact” with Jody Foster).
As I make my way full circle to San Juan, I stop at the Bacardi Rum Distillery for the free tour. A tram takes our group through the airy and manicured grounds, and our guide points out the sipping patio, museum with its recreated old Cuba distillery and Havana bar, corporate offices and giant wind turbines that produce clean energy to run the place. It’s a classy joint, and we all enjoy the free rum punch at the end of the tour.
