Adventurous Hiking in Dominica

How does a peaceful walk in the woods become one of the most strenuous (and scary) hikes on the island of Dominica? That's what I'm still asking myself as I wait for my sprained knee to recover and the blisters and wounds on my hands to heal.

It starts innocently enough. I'm lounging beside the saltwater pool at the eco-friendly, ultra informal Rosalie Bay Resort when I mention to someone that I'd love to hike a low-key trail. Nothing with treacherous river crossings or knife edges that drop precipitously to points unknown. Nothing that lasts more than four hours round-trip. It's not that I'm an aerobic weakling. Quite the contrary, I'm a long distance cyclist, hiker and cross country skier. I'm just not someone with a Type T personality; aka, I'm not a thrill seeker. I'm not interested in ending up on one of those legendary Dominican hikes, such as Morne Diabloton, which translates to Devil's Mountain. Enough said. Or Boiling Lakes, a hike with scalding sink holes lurking about and one that just about everyone who visits Dominica tackles. As a volcanic island coated with jungle-like foliage that climbs to over 4,000 feet above sea level, Dominica isn't necessarily for the faint of heart. Instead, I'm seeking a trail that was scenic, full of botanical wonders, under the radar (of course), and nothing that would land me in the hospital. After all, I have a 2 pm lunch date at the Riverside Cafe that's said to serve amazing coffee beverages as well as smoked fish pie and a homemade lime sorbet.

Oscar, the older gentleman who becomes my guide, mentions Boli (or Bolive, as it's also called) Falls. "It's perfect for you," he says. "No river crossings. No knife edges. No one knows about it. And it's an easy three-hour round trip." Sounds like a no brainer.

Though it isn't the rainy season, which doesn't start for another two months, the day starts off with tumultuous showers. (A bad sign.) And it turns out that Oscar hasn't done the hike in seven years. (Turns out it's more like 10 years.) He feels it's safer -- hmmm, wonder what that means -- with a local who knows the trail well. In the nearby hamlet of Casgory in La Plaine, we meet someone who is referred to us. This bare chested younger man doesn't seem anxious to do this trail, however. Haggling ensues in the middle of the petite lane framed by boldly hued wood framed houses encircled with crotons, ornamental ginger and heliconia. "It's bad weather," says Augustus. "What's bad about it? It's rain," says Oscar. "Bad weather," replies Augustus. This goes back and forth. Somehow an agreement is struck and we drive through the bush to a flat "parking spot" rimmed in vine-like plants. Oscar confides in me. "I don't know how our Dominican men have gotten so soft."

Augustus doesn't look happy. He looks at the now drizzle. "We have to cross a river." I'm sure I've misheard. River, what river? Oscar says, "When I did this trail seven years ago, I didn't cross a river." "There's a river," says Augustus who takes off through the grass.

What starts off as a perfectly flat, pasture-like trail quickly slopes to 70 degrees of slick mud, gnarled roots and thick vines. But, since I know it would only be 1.5 hours of this Stairmaster exercise and a gorgeous waterfall (actually three) awaits, I keep climbing. I must admit that, in the back of my head -- at least it's in the back for the first 1.5 hours -- I'm thinking how I'm going to get back down. This is, by far, the steepest trail I've ever hiked. (And I hike all over the world.)

Somehow, while desperately grasping at vines and using the roots as steps on a ladder to nowhere, I spy the verdant La Plaine Valley through the trees. Massive Sloanea trees with impressive buttress roots pierce our path that becomes increasingly flooded. The air is filled with the sounds of the mountain whistler and other bird squawking and twittering. Amazingly, through this dark canopy, a small window opens, revealing the Atlantic. I manage to take a micro break and ask Oscar what's up ahead. "The worst is over," he says. Though it becomes less steep, it's only for the briefest time. Soon, we're back on the 70-degree slope where, at times, I feel like I'll fall backwards, perhaps all the way to the pastoral trail head. Clearly, Oscar misremembers this hike.

And yet, there's much beauty. We pass a bois diable tree that's considered one of the hardest woods around. (It's commonly referred to as the Devil's Wood.) Gommier trees with their sticky sap dripping down their trunks are around every corner. The pungent resin is used to start a fire while the wood is traditionally carved into boats. All the baskets I saw in the nearby Carib villages the other day were made from the fiber of the Larouma tree that stands in front of me. The fronds of tree ferns flutter above our heads -- Oscar tells me the island is home to 65+ fern species -- and somehow despite the thick shade, an orange tree manages to bear small fruits.

The views of the ocean become better and better while my anxiety grows with each new toe or hand hold. Now I dread the return journey even though the iced latte beckons. When Oscar points out a White Wood tree that the economically disadvantaged use to fashion a coffin, I wonder if this is an omen.

It's not all about climbing, however, We have stretches of the path that plummet down, making it difficult to remain upright.  (This portends what I can expect on the return journey.)

Though Oscar is the strong, silent type, I know he's also worried when he asks Augustus if we could take the fork to the right, to cut off some of the climbing. "It's a steep downhill," he warns. "Steeper than we've already done?" asks Oscar. Augustus nods. "We're not doing anything steeper than what we did." We plod on and Augustus, who says little, reveals that it was his father who cut this trail a long time ago.

Suddenly the air is filled with the crashing of water -- it's the Sari Sari River, I'm later told. (Hopefully it won't be crashing much when I have to fjord it.) A green Sisserou Parrot, the national bird, flits by.

More than 1.5 hours has passed and, yet, each time we ask Augustus how far, he says "Man, we got to climb a mountain and then straight." He demonstrates our trajectory with an arm gesture depicting a slope of a hill and then a beeline for the waterfall. The only problem is that this is what he's now told us three times over the past hour or so. Clearly, his idea of one mountain to climb isn't the same as ours.

Once we hit the two-hour point, I'm very worried. But, I have to put aside these ruminations in favor of the immediate task: crossing the tumbling river. We plant our feet on some precariously placed rocks and still have to step into the icy waters to get across. And the climbing begins afresh.

Oscar pulls me aside and says that Augustus doesn't seem confident as to the trail, which is now difficult to follow. Plus, the 3 hour round trip has ballooned to almost 5 hours!

Finally, I spy a waterfall cascading dramatically down a cliff in the distance. Actually this is the third (and the one with the steepest drop) in the triad of what makes up the Bolive Falls. When you follow the trail that terminates at the emerald transparent pool of Bolive, you'll only be able to see the top two cascades, and not this third one. But it would take another 30 minutes or so to reach the refreshing pool. And, again, Augustus does his little arm gesture of another mountain we have to navigate and then the straight-away.

Suddenly the sky darkens and Oscar says "The weather is changing. We have to turn back now." He's worried about the river rising. How prescient, considering in an instant, we're hit with torrential rains that don't let up for over an hour. This is when the trek becomes decidedly a hike on the wilder side of wild. No, not the river re-crossing which, though it's much higher than before, is very manageable. No, it's the descent with slippery roots, thick mud, no place to get a toe or heel hold, and nothing to hold me upright. So, faced with falling on my face either straight down or careening over the edge, I opt for sitting on my butt. (That doesn't work great either, which is why my hands become lacerated,  my legs and arms are stained with the odoriferous sap and I sprain my knee.)

Just as suddenly, the thunderous rains halt and the sun blazes through the trees. A light mist settles over the forest, which is now soundless. Finally, the birds reappear and the trail reverts to the flat pastoral landscape where we started so many hours ago.

Thankfully, Oscar did regular weight training because he managed to get a death grip on my arm during each of the many treacherous descents, making sure I made it safely back to the car, and my much needed latte. Though I'm covered in mud, and limping and bleeding, I head to the Riverfront Cafe for a very late lunch. Since I didn't eat or drink anything on the entire 5+ hour hike, I end up having two iced lattes at the Riverfront Cafe, smoked fish pie, a piece of onion pie, chocolate cake and the lime sorbet. 

Back at Rosalie Bay, whenever I tell anyone where I trekked, they exclaim, "Bolive! You did Bolive?" And then they proceed to relate how they would never do this hike. Someone says there are three things he knows about Bolive: It's long, it's beautiful and it's challenging. Only when I check online do I find out that Bolive is considered one of Dominica's most difficult and adventurous hike.

At least now I can stand confidently in front of all my friends who've visited Dominica and regalted me with tales of their testosterone-laden hike to Boiling Lakes. They'll know that I didn't wimp out. I did Bolive.

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Wild & Wonderful Jamaica

I'm always on the hunt for authentic experiences and I found it in Jamaica in Port Antonio, a wildly lush land defined by the rugged Blue Mountains in the northeastern sector of the island.

1. Most visitors would probably choose a hotel or inn beside a golden sand beach. Instead, my base was an inn that sat atop a high hill and required driving along narrow winding roads that climbed steeply up the hillside. But it was all worth it. Staying at Jamaica Heights Resort is like bedding down in a botanical garden. The property is littered with red ginger, bougainvillea, wild orchids and hundreds of other botanical delights. It's a low-key, economical establishment where we had panoramic views of the mists coating the tall Blue Mountains. One of the cottages was my favorite: it's got expansive views on all sides so that you look out over Port Antonio right from your bed.


2. We boarded a small boat for nearby Navy Island -- it's officially closed to the public but that didn't stop us -- that was once owned by actor Erroll Flynn who entertained many a celeb guest here. On this little leafy hideaway with the faded ruins of his mansion, we walked through shallow waters from a protected harborside beach where there was some good swimming, to oceanside white sands that were backed with mangrove trees. We had the place to ourselves until a few snorkelers showed up.


3. I'm always up for walking and hiking and found the Swift River Valley provided a perfect venue for scenic treks. Here I found the land thick with cocoa, coffee, grapefruit and guava trees. Walking through the eponymous hamlet beside the trailhead, we spotted freshly-caught crayfish for sale. Further along, locals were fishing for mullet and trout in the adjacent river.
4. Everywhere we ventured in Port Antonio we marveled at the different hued waters. In the case of the Blue Lagoon of Brooke Shields fame, we found jade-colored deep waters. This couldn't be a more perfect place for a placid swim in a amphitheater lush with palms, almond trees and ferns.

5. One of our best lunches was at Winnifred Beach, a swath of sand where shacks sold chicken feet and boiled corn and an old Rastafarian practiced his yoga postures. My fave restaurant was plenty informal. Owned by Cynthia and Painter, this eatery served up large portions of freshly-caught snapper and lobster along with pumpkin and plantains.

6. Another culinary find is Dawn's Bar, a roadside stand in the seaside village of Manchioneal. Their seafood can't be beat -- we ordered the conch soup with crayfish and sweet roasted doctor fish stuffed with okra.
7. You can't leave Port Antonio without walking, hiking and taking a dip at Reach Falls. There are plenty of pools to take a dip. Along the way, we walked barefoot in the shallow river and along the parallel trail half a mile upstream, passing mini-waterfalls and plenty of foliage, including heliconia, and ferns.
8. Another activity that is synonymous with Port Antonio is a river rafting trip down the Rio Grande River. This was no ordinary raft, however. We sat in a 30-foot-long bamboo raft piloted by Captain Bell, a river veteran who once took Errol Flynn's guests rafting. For seven miles, we cruised through a serene landscape with great blue herons, vine-covered trees, shore-side boulders and towering cliffs.

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Not So Laid-Back Hiking in Grenada

Whenever I travel to the Caribbean, it's not the sun-drenched beaches that I long for. Sure, I love to sit on the beach in the early morning or at sunset. But, I much prefer to spend the day exploring, and that often means heading out on one or more hiking trails.

The island of Grenada has several paths that are perfect for strolling. (Such as the trail along the shores of Grand Etang Lake, an extinct volcanic crater that's perpetually bathed in fog.)
Or the lovely Morne La Baye interpretive trail where you'll get an education on the island's distinctive flora, including the ever-present boldly-colored heliconia as well as a fern endemic to this area. And then you'll be treated to a fab viewpoint at the end.

Two other favorite areas for more leisurely walks is the La Sagesse Nature Center and Levera National Park, two good places for bird watching.
But trails for thrill seekers who want a rush of adrenalin around every corner are more the rule. Here's what I found on what's often referred to as the Spice Island, because of its nutmeg production. The island is covered with a network of paths snaking through the jungle-covered terrain, some hugging the cliffs and others scaling the 2,000-some-foot peaks. Since so many of the more advanced trails, including the treks to the Seven Sisters and Camp Fedon, are not well marked, I travel with a guide, such as Henry's Safari Tours.

• It's an easy hike to the first of three falls referred to as Concord Falls in the western part of the island. This is a perfect place to cool off in the pool and either hang out or prepare yourself for the hike to the other two.

But, after that, it can be thought of as a warm up jaunt that requires criss-crossing the wide Black Bay River and jumping onto slick, loosely placed rock piles. The trail snakes through thick brush with yellow and red heliconia flowers growing in abundance.

The rock-hopping has its payoff: Au Coin Falls with its water cascading 40 feet into a clear blue pool. The third set of falls, Fontainbleu, cascades some 60+ feet.

• Another trek that's more rigorous wends to the waterfalls known as the Seven Sisters deep in Grenada's rainforest. You'll find the sweet aroma from the fields lush with bananas, cinnamon and nutmeg intoxicating. The flat track quickly gives way to a steep muddy trail along a narrow mountain ridge. Luckily the perfectly placed has roots help hikers climb this slope where you'll find several rushing waterfalls and clear cobalt blue pools -- perfect for swimming. Or, as I did, sitting on a flat rock and listening to monkeys scamper about.
• Grenada's got some heavy-duty all-day treks, including one to Camp Fedon, an outpost where Julian Fedon, a French Grenadian, led a rebellion in the late 1700s against the British. I did this hike from Concord Falls where the trail climbed steeply along the muddy slopes. Again, I made use of the well-placed vines, roots, rocks and shubs to keep my balance. But it's not all about staying upright because there's plenty of flora to appreciate, from the mahogany trees to the giant ferns and teak. All the sweating to get to the top is worth it for the panoramic views of the green rainforest and the cobalt waters in the distance.

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New Zealand's Short but Sweet Walks

The long-distance Milford Track is hardly the only scenic hiking trail in New Zealand, but it's the one on every visitor's mind. There are dozens of other shorter hikes -- some quite secluded with few visitors, perhaps because they believe it requires several days of trekking to see New Zealand's natural beauty. Some trails only take five minutes, others are several hours, where you'll have the opportunity to see glowworms, glaciers, thundering waterfalls and rare penguins. These are some of my favorites:

• On the Minnehaha walk, you'll pass through a cool, lush rainforest almost adjacent to a fast-flowing glacier. Moss drapes kamahi trees and giant ferns abound as you prowl around at night with glowworms lighting your way.

• Stroll the Lake Matheson walk for ever-present views of the snowy peaks of Mt. Cook and Mt. Tasman. (They're visible on the mirror-like surface of the lake.)

• Less than an hour walk down an old mining trail takes you to Monro Beach where you can spy rare Fiordland Crested Penguins nesting.

• Off the road to Haast, a two-minute walk through a silver beech forest takes you to Thunder Creek Falls that gracefully tumbles some 90 feet into the Haast River. This is hardly an undiscovered locale but it's worth visiting because of the intimacy you'll have with this waterfall in this rocky gorge.

• Queenstown alone has half a dozen short, often superbly scenic, walks, including the 1,600-foot-climb through Douglas fir, mountain ash and sycamore to the summit of Queenstown Hill with 360-degree panoramic views of the surrounding dramatic peaks.

• A 20-minute walk in Paparoa National Park on the ever popular Punakaiki Pancake Rocks and Blowholes trail will take you on one of the most beautiful short walks in New Zealand. One moment, you're on the blacktop road, the next you are enveloped in the coastal rainforest with giant rata and kahikatea trees; the trail ends on the rocky coast where you'll find curious limestone rock formations and the sea surges that produce some even more curious sound effects, with one sounding like a train rushing through a New York City subway tunnel. (It's best to visit during high tide and when the sea is rough to get the full effect.)


• The longest of this lot is the two-hour jaunt on the Whakapapanui trail where you'll cross a golden river bed and have views of the active volcano, Mt. Ngauruhoe, that was Mt. Doom in my favorite movie of all time, Lord of the Rings.

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