Day 14 - That lake was actually boiling, and Satan owns real estate in Dominica.

Day 14

Someone stole my dad’s shoes. Well actually we know who did it. So do you. Turns out he stole part of his vacation too. So this morning my mom, Simon our guide, and I left for the boiling lake. There was no way Pap could go with his lack of good shoes, as the inserts that were in the shoes keep him from wrecking his knees on climbs. We took the shortcut out to titou gorge, along the pipelines as we did at the end of the day Bethan went to court. Here we began our ascent. The gorge is at 550m, and the hiking was through dark wet jungle, on swampy steps made of fern trunk. It is amazing that a fern can make a trunk thick enough to build steps, but it makes ideal ones, as the porous and fibrous outer layer makes for great grip. The climb was gentle for the first 200 vertical metres, until we crossed the breakfast river. The river flows through a gorge that gets progressively deeper and runs right underneath the aerial tram. This is where the ascent gets steep. Until we reached the pinnacle at 945 m we climbed near vertical stairs. It would have been as easy to use hands and feet. As we approached the exposed summit, clouds and wind buffeted us as though the wind was going to lift us and blow us far into the valley below. The stairs continued here, as the surrounding earthy mountains exposed their ruddy color. We descended, and every glimpse we could see over the ridge next to us gave us a closer look at the impending valley of desolation. The valley presents a satanic scene. Steeped in sharply rising peaks, the valley is a rainbow of bright yellows, browns, greys and reds. Boiling hot streams of sulphurous water surrounded us. Streams crossed every which way, some of which we had to ford. It was exciting crossing the streams with the added risk of a bad burn on top of the usual soaker. Hot gases escaped from the earth all around us, some rushing so quickly they whined like hairdryers and car engines, each with its own intonation. Some of them spat hot water along with the high pressure steam that escaped from them. We crossed through the sulphurous, stench ridden valley with careful steps, and the trail wound through another section of forest with bright milky blue water running around bright red rocks. We ascended up to the lake, whose ominous steam was a telltale sign that it was not far yet. As we crested the ridge we could see the rim of the lake. We walked closer and then peered right in. The lake is about 4 or 5 acres surrounded by vertical walls. A couple of small streams feed into the lake. The view of what is going on is generally obscured by the plumes of hot steam rising from the lake. When the wind blows hard in the right direction the stem flees in all directions but the one against the wind, collides with the walls and slides rapidly up, curling majestically into the sky to blend with the surrounding clouds blowing overhead. At times like these the lake is revealed. Half an acre, round, in the centre is at a rolling boil. Sulphurous gas escapes, hot enough to feel when the wind blows in the right direction. We could feel the acidic sting in our eyes and throats as we were pelted with it. Here we had our lunch and made our way back down. The way down was shorter, but seemed longer, as our legs were starting to feel like jelly. A small eternity later, we exited at titou gorge. I am thankful that rain and wind pelted us through our entire hike, because the sun would have been much less lenient with us. It’s time for a drink and some relaxation.
On a positive note, our brakes are fixed. Mr. Roc (or Rock, I don’t know) - inheritor and current owner of the lodge, is a sage 53 year old local. He is quiet but confidently opinionated when he speaks. He seems like a fair, open minded strong man. He spends most of his time passing back and forth, in the background, working on things that need working on, but mostly watching the tv in the nook in the corner of the dining hall. When one talks to Mr. Roc, one learns a lot. He has traveled all over the world, and he is well educated and well thought on the situation of the country. He also knows how shit works around here. We feared that we should cancel our hike this morning, since tomorrow is Christmas eve, and we thought Budget rent a car was closed. In lieu of our brake pad situation it was apparent that we need a replacement soon. On our return we learned the problem was fixed. Mr. Roc got on his cell phone with Budget and asserted “I have a customer that rented a car from you, the brakes don’t work. Get up here and fix it.” 20 minutes later a tow truck with equipment came. A mechanic jacked the car up, new pads were installed, problem solved. If only we knew that the way to get things done in Dominica was to be a jerk to the seemingly nice folk, we would’ve gotten a lot more done a lot sooner!

On the note of Christmas. I try to remember every day that Christmas is approaching. That the eve is tomorrow, but even though I know it, I just don’t believe it. There’s no snow, and the Christmas ring tones on everyone’s phones seem just as ridiculous and irreverent as the decorations and fake Christmas trees that are standing all around this country. We will see how things go tomorrow. We’ll find the most appropriately comical tree we can to hang out decorations on.