A crazy bike trip all around the island of St. Vincent

In 1995 I organized a trip with students to climb the Souffriere Volcano in the north of St. Vincent. This has become a sort of bi- semester event and always is a most memorable outing. As long as there is not driving fog and rain up top, the views in all directions - into the 500 m wide crater with a huge dome of broken lava releasing sulfurous steam at places, back to the Atlantic or across to the Caribbean Sea, onto the rain forests lining the mountain or the upper old crater with a swimmable lake - all are magnificent.

From the campus or Kingstown it is a 30 km drive along the winding ups and downs of the windward highway, through Caribbean villages and with views of the roaring breakers and whitewash of costal beaches and of banana plantations in between. Always alert as to oncoming traffic on the narrow roadway and to the numerous potholes, it takes about 1 hour by car to reach Georgetown. Once the economic center of the island during the sugar boom, this town now is a center of unemployment (except for the jobs of working the banana plantations now also doomed to disappear within a few years, so they say) and poverty. After crossing the "dry river", a wide gravel and boulder river bed where you want to watch out for flash floods in the rainy season and usually have to cross some flowing water with the risk of getting stuck, you leave the main road and follow a paved 3 km long mini-highway through banana and coco palm plantations until reaching the trail head. The Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) has provided funds for both road and trail building - glad to see where some of the steep taxes I used to pay went and that now I am benefitting from it all.

At the trail head a large sign informs of the names of the peaks ahead (usually shrouded in clouds and fog) - altitudes between 3000-4000 feet - and here we are at about 500-1000 feet, I estimate. I have done the trail now over a dozen times - it usually takes me less than 60 min to reach the crater rim, and I have done the return trip in less then 1.5 hours. Most people in reasonable shape should reach the crater rim within 1.5 hours, many take a good 2 hours. So, it is not really a big climb - but it is scenic: One initially walks on slowly rising trails on a narrow ridge through rain forest and bamboo thickets, and the dense growth of heliconia plants obscures the fact that indeed one is sometimes on a narrow ridge - a few steps to the side, and a sail some 50 m down almost vertical slopes is guaranteed. After crossing a rocky river bed, where usually I take a dip in the pools on the way down and drink from the running water, the trail gets to be steeper with hundreds of steps - and eventually the vegetation becomes more stunted, with lots of prickly palms, and after reaching another crossing with flowing water there is only foot-high tropical vegetation up the final slope of the volcanic dome.

Now the temperature becomes more bearable - a stiff cooling wind may blow, and often raindrops are felt, if not a veritable tropical downpour. The trail now widens because the ground here is not solid but feels more like a gravel heap - and the frequent heavy rains cause ever changing erosion patterns. If there are no clouds - and I have walked up here during a complete calm at a time when the west side of the island was battered by tail winds and waves of hurricane Marilyn in the fall of 1995 - the view in all directions is inspiring indeed.

In the fall of 1995 I came down from the volcano with a group of students - and halfway down we met one of their classmates pushing his mountain bike up the steep trail! He was Martin - a student who biked every day back and forth from downtown Kingstown where he found very cheap accommodation - he was lean and always dressed in slightly raggy clothing, suitable for biking rather than the classroom. He had left the campus by bike at the same time we left by bus and now was planning to cross the volcano, and descend on the other side to Richmond and then bike back to Kingstown. Frankly, everyone thought he was crazy, particularly since he had never crossed the volcano and it was not sure whether one could find the trail on the other side. Guidebooks of St. Vincent always recommend to use a guide on that side - but in the meantime I had crossed the volcano on foot once and come up the other side, too - and it is no problem finding the trail going down, although one may need one or two pointers to find the beginning on the other side. The next day we found that Martin had taken a spill somewhere on the other side (not sure whether on the mountain trail or the road), scraped up his face a bit and was discouraged enough to give up and take one of the reggae busses back, picking up his bike the next day. So, his attempt at an island circumnavicision had failed!

I never gave it any thought to also try his feat, thinking that it was beyond me anyway - but the thought of trying it myself took hold when months later I encountered a group of young German eco-tourists at the trail head: they had come on bikes and were planning to cross the volcano! These guys - in typical German fashion wearing all the proper biking clothes - were totally exhausted at this point, drinking water, lying down to rest and moaning about the torturous exercise they had done up to here. I was convinced that they would never accomplish their goal, at least not in one day, maybe planning to camp out somewhere anyway. Somehow I pitied these guys because they were either naive, in poor shape or in over their ears - and the thought crept up in my mind that it was no good judging others when I did not have any first hand experience myself - so over the following months the idea got a hold of me and I eventually made some solid plans to perform an island circumnavicision!

First I thought I would do it after the ending of the term, but then I thought it would be a fitting 60th birthday celebration, maybe one to be repeated every year from now on. I had never even biked to Georgetown, and so all time estimates were academic - and my guess was that it should be possible, discounting any spills like Martin had taken, to finish the trip by 4 pm or so.

So, I took a day of vacation on April 16, 1997, and prepared for the trip: The day before was a terrible day with high winds, clouds and rains. It would not be possible to do it on such a day - but in the morning on the 16th I could see partly clear skies in the breaking daylight and took off: For luggage I carried a tube repair kit and a tire pump plus one extra T-shirt and a small bag of plantain chips, plus a few dollars in case I needed some drink food or the fare for the bus! And sun lotion, of course.

Biking to Georgetown was accomplished, ahead of the morning traffic and in relatively cool morning weather, in less than 2 hours, trying not to exert myself on the uphill sections. After crossing the dry river, which indeed was almost dry, the ride up the road to the trail head was the most unpleasant section - a steady uphill, often too steep to comfortably bike. The 3-4 km seemed to take forever, and the sun now became hot, shining straight at my back. I reached the trail head around 9 am, and I was pleased that I showed no real signs of the fatigue those German eco-tourists had displayed (they had reached there much later in the day, so the sun had worked on them much more). Now it remained to be seen how hard or easy it would be to take the bike up the mountain trail! Riding it was out of the question except for a few very short sections in the beginning. It was going to be push and shove, through some narrow trail sections, up some rocky stretches and up a long ladder of steps. I moved as steadily as I could - but was forced to take a few brief stops to catch my breath on the steeper sections.

When crossing the first river bed, there was a trickle of water, enough to provide me with a good drink - I was counting on that, not carrying any water. Then the sections with steep steps began, and a lot of shoving was needed to push the bike ahead. I realized that I would not make it up in 50 minutes this time, particularly when reaching the summit slopes where I slipped a lot on account of the rubble and broken volcanic rock - pushing the bike required particularly careful stepping to minimize this problem. During those final sections I began showing some signs of fatigue and impatience, wishing to reach the crater rim and be done - and eventually I reached there around 11 am, the ascent from the trail head being exactly double of my usual time, i.e. 100 minutes. I ate half my plantain chips, but the banana I had picked up in the fields below had been lost somewherer while bumping the bike across the steps.

I had not seen any sign of people this early on the mountain - but on the other side of the crater there was a group which must have come up from the Richmond side. Following the trails along the crater rim to the other side was no problem, I even could bike a few short sections. I passed the place where one can descend into the crater and noted that the film crew which had been here a few weeks earlier had left their new ropes behind - something I had asked them to do, the old ones being unreliable and unsafe. It would be a piece of cake on our next trip down there! Indeed, I had to hold on to the bike essentially all the way - only a few short sections could be biked. I was keenly aware of Martin's problem, and I was not going to risk a spill.

After reaching the agriculture belt, I bumped into a group of locals who were about to carry down basketfuls of green peppers and tomatoes - I asked them for a dollar's worth of merchandise, and enjoyed a terrific lunch of a few peppers and tomatoes, beautifully fresh and juicy! I also caught up with the group pf "climbers" I had seen on the crater rim earlier - two American fellows with three local guides. A while later I was impressed by the speed with which two of the farmers carried their heavy loads down the trail: a man and a woman, going full speed balancing a huge basket on the head and another large bag in their hand. A guava tree provided some refreshing fruit for desert - and eventually I reached the river bed at the bottom, sandy, rocky and narrow, not a place where you want to be caught by a flash flood. There would be none today: the sun shone mercilessly, no thunder clouds on the mountain and thus no rain.

After another kilometer of hiking the riverbed one reaches the beach - a black pebbly sand beach stretching for about a mile from the end of the roadway. Progress here was slow because of the soft footing, no biking being possible. At the end of the beach, the Wallilabou River has to be crossed - it was shallow this time. But having to cross this obstacle of water turns the trip into a real Ironman event - so I figured.

I took a dip in the river, now showing clear signs of some fatigue and dehydration despite my juicy lunch of vegetables and guavas, but the warm water did not provide much relief or cooling. It was now around noon and the sun was at its highest, with no cloud in sight.

Now the biking started again, on a paved road. Close by I knew there was a rumshop with cool softdrinks - a Juicy never tasted so good, and I quickly followed it with a "Bitter Lemon" - one of the lemonades produced by the veritable German Brauhaus brewery on St. Vincent. Maybe I needed something like Gatorade or other oral rehydration fluid - but that was not available, of course. Biking now became a bit strenuous - a steady slow uphill towards the last village on the island - Chateaubelaire. Shortly after this village the fist of the "pass roads" began. The road became soon too steep, and I started walking and pushing. I drank a lot from one of the roadside water faucets, providing warmish water. Within a few minutes of hiking thereafter I noted some unpleasant signs: cramps in my thighs. Here we go: I would have to give up the trip and go home by bus! I could not imagine at this point that this problem was going to go away. I tried the technique that had served me well doing a marathon run 6 years ago in the Saudi desert: total relaxation of my moving limbs some shaking of the muscles and easing off on the pace. It did not work - so I was forced to find a shady spot along the road and sit down, careful to not sit on a nest of ants. After a few minutes of rest and massaging the muscles affected, I felt fine and continued - slowly and carefully. After a while the cramps came back, and another rest stop helped again. At the next rum shop - still going steeply uphill - I downed a Pepsi, entertained by blasting calypso music from the Rasta's juke box. The hill seemed to never end - quite different from the east side of the island where the hill sections were much shorter. But eventually I reached the "pass", and then it was a long downhill run. This was of course a relief but needed good attention - braking all the way, watching for potholes and oncoming traffic. Again - I did not want to follow Martin's example and risk a fall.

I had driven the highway maybe twice before - each time being impressed by the steep ups and downs, which now provided for a small nightmare: endless climbs and pushing the bike, cramps coming on and off (now also involving some other muscle groups ), . The cramps seemed to come within minutes of drinking fresh water from roadside faucets. My upper throat began to hurt from downing those cold soft drinks on and off - in total I probably consumed some seven or eight bottles of assorted soft drinks, and the cold fluids seemed to cause a sort of upper laryngospasm - but the craving for more was intense and could not be controlled. I was hoping to find just some soda water - but none of the vendors had any. I seemed to not need any food - but I was hoping to find a coconut vendor, but I found none along the entire leeward highway.

The bus drivers must have been amused: they go back and forth on the road to Kingstown - and some of those vans I saw passing me in either direction at least a half dozen times. The drivers certainly were amused seeing the crazy White Man with his bike, pushing uphill or resting. I still took plenty of rest stops, catching my breath and easing off on cramps. All seemed to be basically ok: I knew now that things were under control and that I should be able to finish the trip - the only uncertainty remaining was the time factor and the question of whether darkness would catch up with me.

The worst hill was the one between the village of Springs and Wallilabou Bay. That hill must be the longest, and it certainly seemed to never end! After that I knew things would be easier - shorter hills, some longer bikable sections, and more and more I would reach territory I knew better because I had traveled that section many more times - such as around the Buccament Valley. One thing was sure: I would not be finishing the trip by 4 pm as I had estimated.

I reached Kingstown by about 5 pm and stopped by the tennis courts where my friends and tennis partners were working out - and where I finally was able to buy fresh coconuts: The "coco water" is one of my favored drinks and particular pleasure right after a tennis game - I downed two nuts worth of water and felt pretty full by now - almost too full! Now there remained one major obstacle - the long climb form Arnos Vale up to Belmont, one of my usual biking routes. But although by now there were the indications of fading daylight, I knew I would make it - no rush, just steady pushing and biking where possible. I could already sense the sweetness of a shower, and I also knew at that time that this would be a once and never again type of trip... By about 6:30. minutes before darkness and about 12 hours since departing early in morning, I reached my home in MacCarthy - and showering and resting were sweet indeed.

Now about two weeks after the event I am not so sure whether or not I will ever repeat the trip - maybe I will change my mind by next year and will perhaps make the completion of such island circumnavicisions the minimal condition for having the continued privilege of living in this here paradise...not really feeling that I have any other reason or justification for being able to enjoy life on this island.

One student later told me he wished I had told him about the trip, because he would have liked to join me. But this is something where I don't want anyone to join me: I do not want to feel that I have to make an extra effort to keep up with someone who is younger and stronger - and I also do not want to have to wait for someone who is either younger or older but definitely slower: This is an exercise with and against yourself only, and if I ever repeat it, that's the way it will have to be.

The End

NB: A year later I had forgotten the exhaustion, fatigue and my vows to never repeat the trip. Could I do it again, was it really so eshausting? A student just had tried it: He was doing a lot of biking and wanted me to do it with him. I said no - for the reasons given above. So he went on his own. After the weekend I expected he would eagerlyy come and tell me about it - but it took a few days for me to track him donw in the crowd and ask him: He had left late (after telling me that he had lights on his bike and was going to leave in the dark!), taken plenty of rest stops, including one half hour on top of the volcano, and ended up running out of time and taking a bus home! He said little about the topic of "exhaustion" - I wonder why. So On April 16 1937 I took my day off, left during full moonshine in the morning long before sunrise, and this time carried a bottle of Gatorade. I made good time, the hill up from georgetown agagin was bothersome, but this time I took much less time to reach the top - only 1.5 hours from the base of the trail. I did not get any cramps this time, but after biking down a steep hill on the leeward side, I had a flat tire, and it took me a half hour walk and even longer to find someone who had patches and a pump. So I lost the time I had gained earlier. The trip was every bit as exhausting in the end, though without the problm of cramps which only seemed to creep up on me when biking up Sion Hill in Kingstown. This time I swore that it would be the last time! Absolutely - there was nothing more to prove.