Exploring Hacienda Don Cleofe in Puerto Rico

When people think of Puerto Rico, they most likely envision white sandy beaches, colonial cobblestone streets in San Juan, and plates of mofongo, the official food of this Caribbean island.

However, Puerto Rico’s history includes some pretty amazing stuff when it comes to coffee.

Immature coffee fruits growing in Puerto Rico.

Coffee first arrived on the island in the 1700s, most likely into the town of Coamo (ironically, where we are staying). Most coffee grown in Puerto Rico was served back in Europe, and even the Vatican.

So, with this storied history we knew we needed to see it for oursleves.

Our family took their familiar battlestations in the Mitsubishi we rented, as it snaked along the mountains of Puerto Rico. We ended up in the Castaner district, close to the town of Lares.

The narrow single track roads among the coffee growing region.

We pulled into Hacienda Don Cleofe.

Perched high above a mountain lake, we were blessed to meet with Evilio Hernandez - the caretaker. When we first arrived, it seemed like the literal last thing Sr. Hernandez wanted to do, was to talk to some gringo about coffee. We ditched English for Spanish, shared some laughs and eventually Eviilio provided a brief history of the farm including the other produce that grows here - from Limes to Avocado.

Wilder and Sr. Hernandez lead the way through the serpentine trails of the coffee farm.

We strolled down the grown in trails that snaked around the 8 acres of coffee plants. For the first time, we were able to see both Arabica and Robusta plants.

It is a very quiet time for fincas here in Puerto Rico - the coffee plants are left alone to do their thing: grow the seeds that will power mornings around the World. Harvest (cocecha) isn’t until September, ending in some parts of Puerto Rico in January.

A flowering coffee cherry that will soon become a fruit.

Sr. Hernandez told us that during this slow season, he is only here 3 days per week. But within a few months, this place will be abuzz with pickers, Toyotas, and the hum of the milling and processing equipment.

The beneficio at Hacienda Don Cleofe.

As we prepared to leave, Sr, Hernandez helped us pick some ripe mangos from a beautiful yet fruit-burdened tree above the driveway. He wiped the sweat off his brow - the Carribbean sun and humidity is not as forgiving as the sun of the Colombian highlands.

We exchanged handshakes for those mangoes and I slipped him some folded cash so he could enjoy some cervesas frias later.

The kids yelled “Adios!” as the Mitsubishi drove off for yet another hacienda.