Higher and Higher

As good as her word, Sue collected us next morning from the road just above the marina and drove us to her and Jean-Charles's gorgeous home in St-Claude, on the outskirts of Basse-Terre.

The garden is spectacular. JC likes orchids. So does WW, who pottered from one to the next with an awed expression.

WW admiring an orchid, one that grows locally in the wild.

Sue prefers controlling Nature's bounty. "I'm more into clear-cutting," she said. In addition to orchids, the garden is home to a mango tree, an avocado tree, a grapefruit tree and, of course, the wonderful citron vert. Sue said she thought she had killed the passionfruit vine -- they can be pretty invasive -- but passionfruit littered the driveway. In the tropics, Nature tends to fight back.

The house also features a glorious, extensive, comfortable and shady veranda, where we sat around the dining table while Sue drew a map and gave us instructions for finding food to take on our hike.

A nice place to visit and, yes, I'd want to live here.

The Soufriere: Guadeloupe's volcano. At 1,467 metres, the highest peak in the Lesser Antilles. That was the day's challenge. We were pumped.

We found the grocery store Sue had told us about, but it was closed. An adjacent pastry shop provided ham-and-cheese, and sausage buns, as well as sticky buns of several types and the essential bottled water. Well-provisioned, we set out for the trailhead.

We were able to find a parking spot right by the entrance to the rain forest trail. Almost immediately after starting up this well-maintained pathway, the sulphur-spring-fed baths appeared on our left. Then it was a 10 or 15 minute hike through beautiful rain forest, over bubbling brooks and up steep rocky steps. The rain forest ended abruptly, and we emerged at Savane a Mulets, elevation 1,142 metres, a flat grassy area with an erstwhile parking area no longer accessible to vehicles. Before us stood La Soufriere in all her glory.

The summit of La Soufriere seen from Savane a Mulets.

It was a marvelous climb. The trail spirals up around the volcano, so is never terribly steep (not like going up all those wretched stairs on the Saba volcano) -- at least, not until the very end when it's a bit of a scramble. The air is wonderfully cool and, even though there was bright sunshine for our climb, it was not a sweaty, unpleasant grind. While the other three came up halting often to take photos or water breaks, I found I wanted to keep moving. I hit my pace and moved up the mountain at a comfortable and consistent rate, stopping once or twice to read information placards placed a long the route, once taking a longer break to let the others catch up. I sat in a shady spot and watched fabulous Antillean crested hummingbirds (such a dark green they appear black, with a brilliant crest that catches sunlight and flashes emerald) zing around me. In the end, however, I couldn't sit still any longer, and continued my ascent.

The views were extraordinary, both upwards and down. To begin with, the view was south and west toward Les Saintes and Basse-Terre. The climb took us all the way around to the northeast side, with a splendid views over Les Mamelles, Grande Terre and Pointe-a-Pitre. Along the way, deep crevices slashed up into the mountainside, lined with strange yellow mosses and clusters of tree ferns. The last bit of the trail was rather rough and very steep, but the knowledge I was almost there made the climb much easier. A few minutes after my arrival, the others appeared.

What I saw looking down...

...and what they saw looking up.

It turned out we were still a short steep pathway from the actual summit with the actual sign boasting the actual maximum elevation. Truly not a bother. We made our way up there, took the requisite photos, and settled down to our nosh.

One of the requisite photos.

After our meal, we made our way along the path that circles the crater. Many areas are roped off with warnings about toxic gases. WW and I are aware of the sulphuric acid that lurks in volcanic ash. I can't image it is nice on lungs either. One great vent issued a steady stream of steam. The lads tossed in stones to see if they could hear the bottom.

A good spot for throwing stones.

The trek down actually seemed much more difficult than going up. Very jarring on tired joints. Still, bloodied but unbowed, we arrived back at the sulphur-spring baths to give our feet a well-earned soak.

Hospitality Plus

As I mentioned in my last post, when Sue had come aboard, we had arranged to meet for dinner. As Jean-Charles is interested in sailing and matters naval, we invited them aboard for a pre-prandial drink. During the course of this exchange, I had mentioned our low opinion of French rhum. Sue looked aghast.

WW went in to the marina in Boffo and collected our guests at 6:30 that evening. I had planned a batch of RPs, but that was nixxed when they arrived. JC had rhum, sugar and citrons verts (the Caribbean French refer to green lemons and JC explained that they are different from limes, though uneducated palates such as mine cannot make the flavour distinction). The citrons had come from their own tree in their own garden. He also brought a triad of small spoons. We were to be introduced to the French equivalent of an RP: the ti-ponche (sp?).

WW and I had actually experienced this drink in Deshaies on our first visit. We had sworn it would never pass our lips again. We were to be forsworn.

Jean-Charles, with flourish, sliced his green lemons into chunks. He put two or three in a small glass. He mashed them with one of the spoons.

Citrons verts are step one.

He added sugar and mashed again. Then he poured in a measure of white rhum. More mashing and...voila!

The alchemist at work.

It was absolutely fabulous.

That said, we gave Sue a bit of Mount Gay on the rocks and she was stunned to learn it could be drunk like that, unsullied by other ingredients...and tasted OK. Both the Anglos and the Francos had scored direct hits. No need to re-enact the Battle of the Saintes.

After our delicious libations, we crowbarred all six of us into Boffo and headed, very carefully, back into the marina. It was a short walk to a wonderful pizzeria. Sue said she and JC eat there often, and she had made reservations. The meal was delicious, the conversation sparkled. I was deeply happy the swimmers had swum and made this all possible.

Jean-Charles and WW at the pizzeria.

Sue, Dana and Enn at the pizzeria.

As the evening drew to a close, Sue offered to pick us up at 8:30 the next morning. She works from home as a translator and wanted to get to her desk at a reasonable hour. She would take us there, lend us the car, and provide us with instructions for getting to La Soufriere. I mean...wow.

We parted well pleased with the wonderful evening we had spent.

Making Contact with Natives

During our stay in Deshaies, I attempted to reach my friend Susan who, several years ago, up and married a Frenchman and moved to...Guadeloupe. I got her contact info from our mutual friend Madeleine and another nudge from Sue's brother who had recently emailed me. She lives outside Basse-Terre (on the southern part of the west coast of Guadeloupe) a good place to stop on our way to Les Saintes provided the weather and seas were going to be calm.

After our visit to the rain forest, we had returned the rental car, slung our hammock and had a very lazy day. I have been attempting to swim six laps around Django every day since exercise on boats is hard to come by. I think, however, I am infinitely better at hammock snoozing.

We set off bright and early on Wednesday, headed for Basse-Terre (the town). We stopped for lunch and a fabulous snorkel at Ile aux Pigeons. The Eager Crew proved invaluable as fish pot spotters, and Enn oversaw our fishing rod with admirable results: a fresh mackerel turned into a fresh mackerel seviche for lunch.

It was a lovely sail,with light airs and an almost flat sea. The only blot was the death of our mainsail, which has definitely reached the end of its cruising days. The several layers of its fabric are no longer holding together as they once did, meaning it is very difficult to haul it out of or cram it back into its furler. Thank goodness Enn was there on the last time it was hauled in, as proved a Feat of Strength. WW decided it would not come out again, except for replacement. He has been waiting weeks for a quote on a new one from the Antigua sailmakers.

We arrived at our anchorage, off a black sand beach near the Riviere Sens Marina south of Basse-Terre, late in the afternoon (as advertised) and decided to make our first foray ashore the next day. I was trying to determine the best time to try to call Sue, or her husband Jean-Charles, at one of the phone numbers she had provided. Ah well, we'd work something out.

Thursday dawned clear and lovely. WW, Enn and I became very wrapped up in a project WW and I had started back in Antigua: an awning for the foredeck. With grommet kit in hand, the two produced shade.

And WW and Enn said, "Let there be shade"...

...And there was shade.

In the midst of all this activity, a voice called from astern and WW went back to see who it might be. He returned a moment later.

"That was a message from Susan," he told us. Sue had asked her friend Linda to check whether a catamaran with a Canadian flag was anchored off the black sand beach. Linda had spotted us and swum out to let us know that Sue would be down at the beach at about one o'clock.

Something, I think was lost in translation, since the gentlemen went ashore to explore at about noon and, soon thereafter, Dana and I were hailed from the water. Sue had swum out to see us.

We agreed to meet for dinner at a pizzeria in the marina. The lads arrived back just in time to give her a lift ashore...she was due to pick up Jean-Charles from work.

Thus, when technology fails, the residents of Guadeloupe manage, er, swimmingly.

Exploration in Guadeloupe

Monday, November 29, was WW's birthday, and we celebrated in style...by having him buy lots of stuff he wanted.

We headed down the coast to go exploring and to visit some of the places we had read about in the guide books.

Guadeloupe is separated into two islands by a thin saltwater river, the Riviere Salee. Basse Terre, the western island, is the larger and has wonderful mountains, and a rich and luxuriant growth of rain forest . Grande Terre, in the east, is smaller, low and relatively flat, with the fancy beaches and resorts all along its southern coast.

We drove about halfway down the west coast of Basse Terre to where the Route de la Traversee crosses through the Mamelles...smallish mountains, but still steep enough and wet enough to make a walk a must. At the Maison de la Foret, we dismounted and went for a lovely easy hike along a "discovery" trail, branching off onto the "discovery 2" trail, which took us up a slope to a place where there would have been a view if there hadn't been such incredible forest growth.

Setting off through the lush forest growth.
From the front of the line: Enn, Dana, WW.

Huge buttress roots on a gum? kapok? Well, on a rain forest tree.

The trees they do grow high. Lay on my back to take this photo.

Sturdy vines twining through the undergrowth.

After our hike, we drove back the way we had come to a place called Parc des Mamelles, which features an otter and that classic Guadeloupian forest dweller...wait for it...the raccoon. (Don't ask me, I have nooo idea). We didn't actually go in there as the cost was more euros than we felt were necessary, but we did cross the road and have a lovely sandwich and a beer at the snack bar there.

We then decided to return to Deshaies via Point a Pitre. This meant driving clear across Basse Terre to the bridge that would take us to Grande Terre. On the way, we visited the Cascade aux Ecrevisses. This lovely little waterfall is a short walk from the parking lot and the boardwalk leading to it means it is wheelchair accessible!

Cascade aux Ecrevisses. WW tried to find a way up
the far side (he's the little yellow dot over there).

WW, Dana and your correspondent at the falls.

In the parking lot, there was a crafts shop which WW explored with fascination. We came away with a hammock for the boat -- a Creole hammock -- and a couple of rhythm instruments of a basic nature which would, we were sure, make our evening singsongs even more annoying to neighbouring boats.

From thence, it was onwards to Pointe a Pitre where WW bought himself a new guitar case and we bought swim fins for me (mine had been chewed by rats...ew). We had wanted to visit the market, but it was pretty much closed. One woman was still at her stall, packing away spices. I managed to buy turmeric (saffran in Guadeloupe) and fresh ginger.

Then it was off back to Deshaies and Django and our well-earned RPs.

The French Connection

We left Antigua on the morning of Friday, November 26, and had a rip-snorting, up-and-down, blowy, lovely sail down to Guadeloupe. Unfortunately, I made my annual error and took an anti-seasick pill about an hour before leaving. It knocked me for a loop and I spent most of the crossing unconscious in one corner or another while poor noble WW managed the boat work.

We arrived in lovely Deshaies at about 4:30 p.m. and were almost immediately visited by our friend who, for a small fee, picks up baguettes and pastries from a nearby bakery and delivers them to the boat at the crack of dawn. Yum. We'd be having croissants for breakfast.

We had planned to dine ashore but found we were both so dopey (WW had taken one of the pills too) that we ended up staying aboard and having a light meal of the few things still lurking in the fridge. (It is only sensible to empty one's refrigerator before a crossing to France where things like real ham, real pate, real bread and real croissants can be found.)

In the morning, WW went ashore to clear us in and to find out about car rentals. While he was away, I cleaned the boat and prepared the guest berth for the arrival of our cruising companions, the inimitable Eager Crew: Dana and Enn. They would be arriving late in the evening, so had arranged to stay the night in a Gosier hotel. A series of consultative emails ended with our deciding to rent a car to pick them up and to explore a little more of Guadeloupe than can normally be seen from a boat.

The rest of the day was spent in extreme indolence.

Sunday morning, we rented a car (a tiny Ford Something with protesting brakes and powered to zoom us from 0 to 60 in 45 minutes). We drove through the cane fields from Deshaies to Ste-Rose, down across the bridge over the Riviere Salee (which separates the two halves of Guadeloupe and which we had sailed last year) and around Pointe-a-Pitre. Then it was a short drive south to Gosier. There was a brief moment of concern when our guests appeared to have disappeared. All was well, however. Their late arrival had meant a regular receptionist had not been on duty and the night watchman had stuffed their registration into a drawer. It all took a bit of finding...as did Dana and Enn who had gone off for an exploratory stroll. Just as we worked out that we were at the right hotel, they came wandering up. We loaded them, their bags and ourselves into our little Ford and trundled back whence we had come.

We tried to stop at the rhum museum on the way back, but this is the French West Indies. On Sundays, everything seems to stop (if it ever starts) at noon or soon thereafter. During the week, all the shops and businesses close at midday and reopen at about 3 p.m. The great old tradition of siesta is alive and well in Guadeloupe. So, of course, the museum was closed.

We arrived in Deshaies and, rather than head straight out to Django, we carried on along the coast road to the south, up the long steep hill to the botanical gardens. This would be my and WW's third visit, but the Eager Crew's first.

The koi pool greats visitors at the entrance to the botanical gardens.
Little cups of fish food can be bought for a few cents and, as is clear, the fish like it.
This photo is of WW, Dana and me, kindness of Enn.

Dana photographed WW and Enn covered in lories.
The aviary also holds lorikeets, but the lories are bigger, pushier and more gluttonous.
As for the koi, food is available. Lories like fruit so their food is some sort of fruit mush.

We had a very pleasant lunch at the gardens, then made our way back to Deshaies proper. There, in her standard spot, was the lovely ice cream lady with her two huge hand-crank ice-cream makers. The ice-cream eaters all seemed to think coco-passion sounded good. It certainly vanished quickly enough.

Then it was into Boffo and off the Django to install the crew in their quarters.