The Great Escape: Three ‘Trafficked’ Dolphins Make a Bid for Freedom

Sold to a Park by Che Guevara’s Daughter in Communist Cuba

Peter Swanson Mar 17

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There’s a place in the Dominican Republic called Ocean World, the Dominican version of SeaWorld in America, and Sir Richard Branson doesn’t like either of them.

Back in 2019, long before he was found inhabiting the Epstein Files, Branson made news by declaring that his travel empire would no longer sell tickets to any park that kept whales and dolphins in captivity. This was considered moral high ground at the time.

Public opinion was beginning to turn against the notion of enslaving these clever marine mammals for the sole purpose of our entertainment. Maybe this will entertain you instead: A story about how a trio of dolphins gamed the system.

Once upon a time, my boat was anchored in Luperon Bay, and I was working for the tourist cats at Puerto Plata. I was skippering and maintaining the boats. At the time Ocean World was opening nearby.

Just a few miles to the east of Luperon is a fabulous little day anchorage called Cambiaso, and next to Cambiaso is this tiny little cove overlooked by rock bluffs. I heard from my friends in the tourist industry that Ocean World people had stretched a mesh fence across the mouth, and they were keeping dolphins there while the water park was being finished.

Owned by a German billionaire, Ocean World had bought three juvenile dolphins for $50,000 each from Cuba. Havana needed cash (as it always does) and was engaging in a worldwide dolphin trafficking scheme.

Cuba was the world’s leading dolphin exporter, and by the time Ocean World was coming online, it had sold more than 100 dolphins for between $30,000 and $130,000 each, according to news reports.

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The dolphins-for-dollars scheme was being run by none-other than a daughter of Che Guevara—Che the Beret, Che the freedom fighter. As it happens, Celia Guevara was a veterinarian by profession and a marine mammal-monger by necessity.

Of course, Loose Cannon had to have a look. Cambiaso was so isolated back then you could hardly get there by road. True, there was a road, but it was awfully rough, so I borrowed a dirt bike. Once arrived, I dismounted and walked toward the little cove, and, behold, there it was—the Army of the Dominican Republic.

The place was cordoned off like Area 51, and a platoon of soldiers stood guard, M-16s slung over their shoulders. Dominican authorities may have been worried about animal rights protesters. Who knows?

So, I spoke to the soldiers, telling them that I was all by myself, and I wanted to go see the dolphins. “I am sorry, sir, you may not pass. No one may go further than this point.” Meanwhile a college-age woman wearing shorts and a white blouse strode right past us toward the cove. “What about her,” I asked?

“She is the Cuban woman in charge,” one soldier said. “She may pass.”

As a newspaper reporter, I had learned that sometimes there was a way around a police cordon, especially out in the country. As I was walking back to the bike, I saw a Dominican guy about my age who looked like a fisherman. “Amigo,” I said. “The Army won’t let me look at the dolphins. Is there a way around the blockade?”

There is, he said. I told him that I would take care of him, if he could get me to where I could have a good look.

We went to the shack where he lived with his family. He came out with two fishing rods, one of which he gave to me. Follow me, he said, explaining that there was a path to a good fishing spot that the Army by law cannot block—something akin to aboriginal rights. His fishing spot happened to be on a bluff overlooking the dolphin detention center. Rods in hand, we sauntered over and pretended to fish.

There they were: Three dolphins fenced in, swimming in circles. Sad—that was going to be their forever-life.

Soon after, we heard the shout, a old woman. The mighty Dominican Army couldn’t stop us, so they sent the fisherman’s mother. The jig, so to speak, was up, and at her insistence we retreated back to their humble home. I thanked my man and paid him 15 bucks for his help.

Key fact: This cove is open to the north, so it’s got protection from the prevailing easterlies, but when a frontal system rolls down from the U.S. or there’s a far-off storm over the ocean, waves will roll right down its throat. Apparently, according to my tourist industry friends, Ocean World had been warned about this but didn’t listen.

One very fine northerly day that’s exactly what happened. The waves rolled in, each time completely submerging the fence. And that allowed $150,000 worth of teenage dolphins to get inside those waves and swim over the fence and away from the cove, never to be corralled again.

They lived happily ever after.

The end?

Not quite. Ocean World had to go back to Cuba and buy some more. The dolphin show must go on.