Rastafari and a Boiling Lake
14.12.2016 - 18.12.2016
Hello from the other side.
We survived.
The morning after arrival I just lay in my bed, listening to the sounds of the cook buying fruit from some Dominican man. Breakfast was refreshing that day. In the morning light the bay was properly visible, the first of so much paradise to come. Palm trees waving back and forth in the wind, soft waves lapping at the feet you dangle from the edge of the ship, the sun shining with the promise of heat.
A big cleanup later, you feel the sand beneath your toes, and set off in search of food and WiFi, perhaps a place to swim. We found both, and talked to locals along the way, buying bracelets made of seeds and sandalwood, trying to calculate how many US Dollars it was going to be, as everything was in Eastern Caribbean Dollars. The free time ended well, with a swim in the dark.
What we did we do afterwards? Barricade the poop deck with hammocks. And sleep in them, of course. Chill, aside from the fact that it rained five times. Luckily only softly.
The next day was half a school day, the second half being a dinghy ride to the beach where we chilled and met four other teenagers doing similar things, but with their parents. They came to the ship that evening, and we talked for quite a while. Not that smart, as we were supposed to be up at 5 the next morning. But we teenagers are used to that kind of thing.
Up at five, ashore by seven, to pile into three minibuses that took us along the east coast and then inland, till the point from which we had to walk. Up and down it went, right through the rainforest. A shower here, a shower there, soaking wet clothes. Ferns that tower above your head, Tarzan-trees, fresh streams of water in the valleys. At one point we just kept going up, till the top of a mountain from which you could see the sea.
From there the path went steeply downward, toward a few small, boiling sulphur springs. After applying fresh mud to our faces and boiling some eggs, we continued along the small river. And up, and down, and up again, until we finally reached the boiling lake.
Pretty damn cool. It was literally boiling, slightly behind the centre. We had a nice lunch on its shores, before a few of us started running back. I have literally never hiked up and down mountains so quickly. Why? Along the way lie pools. Warm, sulphur pools. I was one of the first to slip down the banks and submerge in the murky water, and find the extra warmth source – a tiny trickle of water that almost burnt my back.
FiLo. First in, last out. And on to the water at the very beginning, where a scene in Pirates of the Caribbean 2 was shot. It was further than I remembered. Once there – my group made it just before twilight – we dove right in again. This water was a lot colder and deeper, but at the end of a narrow canyon, a low but fierce waterfall raged. The current in the cave before it was pretty strong, but a few of us swam right up to and stood in it. That made a few cool pictures. I went there twice, waterproof camera in hand.
On return to the cars we tried to clean ourselves up and find dry clothes before another drive, to the Rastafari. We arrived there way too late, but they didn’t mind. It was a small settlement, with a main house, rastarant (geddit ?) and a few cottages. We got a roof on poles for our hammocks, but we were too many so two of the beams collapsed and a few others & I moved to the veranda of a cottage. Also nice.
Dinner was really good, cooked on fire and served in calabash shells. Most of us went to bed straight afterwards, exhausted by the hike.
Breakfast was at eight the next day, and as if by a miracle, I woke up just before. Strolling over to the rastarant, I noticed everyone was still asleep, except two people in the kitchen. I asked them if I should wake the rest up, but, “Noo, let them sleep, they’ll wake up eventually, come and help us.” So I did, making fried, bread-pancake-ey things. At one point people started to trickle in, and were surprised when I came out of the kitchen to join them for a delicious breakfast of bread, fruit and pancake-ey things, all fresh.
Next on the program: a short hike to the Victoria Fall. I left my shoes behind in the first 100 metres, continuing barefoot, up the White River of Zion Valley. The steep banks of the river and the trees along it were just beautiful, leading to the largest waterfall of Dominica. Simply breathtaking. We swam in the pools just below, and sat on rocks close by, in awe. Sadly we had to leave after a while, returning for lunch.
Everything was vegetarian, even vegan, I believe. And everyone really enjoyed all the food. We spent our afternoon pressing sugar cane juice and spooning out calabash. Oh, and painting each other orange with the seeds of a certain tree. I looked particularly fancy. A few of us got a thin, single braid, me too, which we’ll leave in till they become dreadlocks. That stand for freedom, according to Moses – the grandfather, herbal healer and chain-smoker of weed.
Everyone, even those who usually stress a lot, got into the chill Rasta rhythm of life *cough secondary inhalation cough*. Reggae all day, just going with the flow, the good life. Eight o’clock breakfast becomes quarter past nine, no problem. We call it, “Rasta Time”.
The weather was unlucky for a walk to the beach, so we did yoga in the valley. After that we swam in the river again, and after lunch I (and some others) got to see the small weed plantation, casually lying right behind the sugar cane. Apparently there’s a larger one an hour’s walk away. Then there was some time to say goodbye, to the children and adults that had become our friends. And we were off.
I could have stayed there forever, and I’ll definitely return one day, soon. Two nights are way too little, so if you ever go, make your stay long. They are simply wonderful, warm people that embrace life and welcome you with open arms. Just add that location, and you have found paradise.
“Harmony, unity, that’s the way it’s gonna be. Freedom, peace and love.”
