We woke up on Friday without any specific plans for the day. After reviewing our options, we decided to take it pretty easy, maybe check out some tide pools, maybe drive across to the other coast and get some ice cream. Instead we accidentally climbed a volcano.
Mount Pelée, which occupies most of the northern tip of the island, erupted in 1902, destroying the town of Saint-Pierre. Today it seems to be a bit more relaxed. We drove north up a winding road full of narrow switchbacks that only allowed one car at a time, with B behind the wheel and L watching the map and warning her of upcoming hairpin turns. We turned off onto a somehow even more harrowing road, finally coming to a lookout / restaurant at the base of the mountain. It was overcast, and we weren't far below the clouds covering the summit; the temperature was cool and the volcano was right there, so we switched into our hiking shoes and set out.
The climb quickly turned steep -- you had to take your time and often use your hands, especially when the trail was a bit washed out. We passed people of all ages, and as we moved into the clouds, we weren't able to see much except dizzyingly sheer green slopes above and below. When we reached a particularly treacherous stretch, it started to rain, and our shorts and linen shirts were thoroughly wet as we crossed along a meandering spine to the top of the volcano.
At a fork in the trail, we sat down to eat some snacks in a refuge and plan our next move. Inside, a French woman was arguing with her husband on the phone -- he had left her with two kids so that he could complete the last loop of the trail alone, and she was displeased. Losing the cell signal did not help her mood, but she did share with us that apparently the clouds had opened up and he was getting some great views.
So we headed in that direction, along a path that curved along the caldeira. Sure enough, just as we reached the far side, the clouds parted and we could see down into the bowl as well as out towards the luminous ocean and the lush slopes around us. It was magnificent.
The sun came out again as we gingerly made our way back down again, giving us more panamoric views and drying out our clothes. We high-fived and drove on to Saint-Pierre.
We rested our wobbly legs and ate lunch at a little restaurant that seemed to cater exclusively to white people. L had coconut chicken with rice, and B had fresh dorade (fish) with a well-seasoned sauce. The owner also blended us up some fresh pineapple-mango juices. We drove down to Le Carbet for a swim at a long black-sand beach with calm water and the volcano looming up behind us.
We did end up getting that ice cream -- a creamy hazelnut + caramel cone for L and a mind-bending lime + chocolate sorbet for B that kind of reminded her of the fruit around a cacao bean, and that really grew on her over time.
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