Hiking and Chaos!

It's almost as though you could not have held us back long before we are running to get to the hike du Vieux Fort, out by Anse Canot. Even though parts of it are rather challenging, and I sometimes find myself regretting the hike when we get to the steep inclines, I think it is our favorite of all the Marie-Galante hikes. 

What makes it so great? It's just the right length - enough to tire you out without leaving you wishing you were already done before the last kilometre.

It sweeps through so many different ecosystems, blending seamlessly one into the other, so you really get a feel for the variety of vegetation on the island. We start at the Anse du Canot Beach, boots in the sand, and slowly climb our way up the crumbly limestone into the dry forest along the coast. 

We round a bend and a sheltered bay opens up before us, turquoise waters so clear, we can see right to the bottom, and the few boats that are moored here seem to be floating on glass.

Back down through the forest, we emerge again on the sand of the long, long plage Moustique. There are some people lounging, floating in the surf. This beach runs the length of the roadway, so you can drive here as well, which I think most people do. We look out across the water, and can see the tiny islands of Les Saintes in the distance, followed by the volcanic southern tip of Basse-Terre. La Soufriere is crowned in clouds again this morning.

When we finally come to the end of the beach, we re-enter the dry forest, but this one is carpeted in the green leaves of Beach Spider-Lilies, with a few blooms scattered around, and then a mass of Snake Plants. 

We make our way through the foliage to the rocky point that overlooks both the recreational and commercial ports of Saint-Louis.

From the point, we dive back inside the forest via a river outlet called Trou Massacre. There's something mystical in this place, maybe because of its history, maybe because of its geography. As you walk deeper into the forest, all sound cuts out. I can no longer hear the wind in the trees, the waves of the ocean, the chirping of birds overhead or the buzzing of bugs under foot. Nothing - this area is all silence. It almost begs for reflection as we cross the area. 

Next, we climb up a slope to emerge in the full sun of a grassy field. At the centre stands a dilapidated wooden shack, probably once a grand home, but long since left to return to nature, and in the years we have visited this trail, we've seen the grass invade, the spiky shrubs get taller, the trees grow up through the shutters and doorways. It's a little sad, but a lot of places on the island have the same fate. If only we could save them from the slow decay.

Across the roadway, we continue through more grassy fields, these one dotted with cows, and lined with sugar cane. Most of the island is covered in sugar cane, which will be harvested at the end of the month for the sugar and rhum industries. I can only imagine what the place looks like then, fields given the equivalent of a giant buzz cut, but for now, we are surrounded by the 10-foot-tall stalks everywhere. 

We pass the fields and begin the climb up Morne Merlet, one of the tallest hills on the island. It only stands at 151 metres in height, but the constant climb up a slippy limestone hill to the top is a challenge, and I am relieved every time we crest the top and catch sight of the ocean below us. 

From here, it's a pretty easy descent, partly on paved roads, partly through the mangrove forest next to Anse Canot, and you can feel the breeze pick up the closer you get to the end of the trail. There's a lagoon with a bird observatory, but it's not migration season, so the lake is pretty deserted, but nonetheless a refreshing place to sit for a rest. 

And then, just like that, we are back at the car, shedding our heavy boots, donning our sandals, and driving off to relax our muscles in the salty waters at Plage des Trois Islets.

After a shower back at the cabin, we head into town for the official opening of the Carnaval season on Marie-Galante. Apparently, the town of Grand Bourg has been hosting a "fashion show" to display the different Carnaval groups' costumes for the past 3 years, before the first parade even happens. The square in front of the church is filled with people, sitting on any flat surface, to watch the show, and once church is let out, the crowds fill in the rest of the space. The MC apologizes for the delay, but that's expected in Guadeloupe - nothing starts on time. 

The first group joins him on a large red carpet, one girl in an elaborate costume doing a half dance-half strut on the makeshift catwalk while the musicians play along. 

The second group does a similar parade, but invites all of their dancers out and the MC has a tough time corralling them and politely asking them to leave the area, as the show must go one. Mario comments how the people of Guadeloupe will always do what they want, no matter how organized an event might be, and as the night goes on, I am inclined to agree!

Rain falls, suddenly and heavily, and everyone scatters, standing in clumps under anything providing shelter : the tent, the business awnings lining the square, the leafy trees in planters along the sidewalk, the cover of the town market. 

The MC keeps talking, praising the rain for blessing the festivities and the coming Carnaval season, commenting how things are so hot, maybe we needed to cool things off a bit to continue with the show! The rain stops and suddenly it's bedlam in the crowd, people rushing to the centre stage to get the best views. 

Now, musical groups start to make their way in from the nearby sports area, where they have been amassing, and think they are in an actual parade, almost walking right past the "catwalk" before the MC drags them in. And then the WHOLE group crowds the catwalk, dancers at the front, musicians filling the entire back area, rhythmic percussions sounding for 5, 6, seven minutes before the ever more agitated MC starts interjecting that they need to finish up so the next group can present. It's chaos.

The next 3 groups perform in about the same manner, as thought they are presenting to the jury during the Carnaval parade, where their dancer presentation can last upwards of 10 to 15 minutes. Mario and I can see the organisation of the event spiralling ever more out of control, and we decide to take a little walk, get a little snack, listen to the music from afar and out of the crowd. 

The evening finished in about the same way - in fact, the last group is still playing encore number three as we make our way to the car. We arrive home past 10 pm, four hours after the show started, and still had not had dinner. I made some quite cheesy omelettes with fruit for us to inhale before crashing into bed. I think tomorrow is going to be slow-going - and there's another parade!