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.