Hiking Wai'tukubuli National Trail: Segment 5

Hi there!

In 2011, Dominica completed development of its 115 mile long Wai'tukubuli National Trail (WNT). "Wai'tukubuli" is the Kalinago word for the island, meaning "tall is her body," which is an apt description for this most mountainous of the Caribbean islands. The Kalinago, also called Caribs, are the indigenous people of the island; their ancestors arrived on the island thousands of years ago from mainland South America. About 3,700 Kalinago currently live in the Kalinago Territory in the east of the island. I plan to learn more about their culture and heritage. If you are interested in Kalinago history I recommend starting with these links:

• http://kalinagoterritory.com/about-us/
• http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Island_Caribs
• http://www.kalinagobaranaaute.com/carib_territory/history/
• http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kalinago_Genocide_of_1626

Wai'tukubuli National Trail Map
(http://www.avirtualdominica.com/images
/wnt_map_attractions.jpg)

The Wai'tukubuli trail stretches from Scott's Head in the south, running north through the center of the island, bending toward the east coast at Castle Bruce before heading toward the center again and continuing north and hooking to finish in Cabrits on the northwest coast. The trail is divided into 14 segments and goes through all three of Dominica's national parks: the Morne Trois Pitons National Park (a UNESCO world heritage site), Morne Diablotin National Park (including the highest point in Dominica at 4,747 feet), and Cabrits National Park (an important historical site and wetland).

Last Saturday, I got to hike Segment 5 of the WNT. This is a 12km section from Pont Casse in the center of the island to the east coast village of Castle Bruce, and purportedly one of the easier segments. It's listed at about 6 hours in the guide book, and that seems about accurate.

This hike was the Second Annual Mountain Chicken Hike; it was part of the public outreach efforts by the Mountain Chicken Project as a way to raise awareness about this incredible frog and encourage people to get outside and onto the trail. The event was a big success, with about 40 participants. It was my first involvement in all-things-mountain-chicken, and a great introduction into conservation efforts here in Dominica. I met a few more folks from the Forestry Dept, and got talking with the people in charge of the mountain chicken project. I still need to check with them whether I have their permission to post their names and any photos of them here, so expect an updated version of this page soon! If you are a Facebook user: check out their page here.

information about the Mountain Chicken at the trail-head

We all met early in the morning at the Botanic Gardens and took a drive up to Pont Casse in two buses. It was so encouraging that there were so many people there who were interested in the mountain chicken and in hiking, who wanted to spend their Saturday out on the trail. After a group picture and the handing out of free t-shirts (!) we all set out along the path.

beginning WNT Segment 5 

It was slow going at first, just because the group was so large, and the trail very slick from the recent rainy days. Although Segment 5 is one of the flatter portions of the WNT, the trail is still a good challenge! Even once the group had all settled out into each person's respective pace, I found myself having to slow down and be very cautious about my footing over the densely packed roots, leaves, and rocks that make up the surface of the path.

One thing that continues to impress me is just how well marked the trail is. The way is very easy to follow, with blue and yellow paired blazes painted on rocks, trees, and pavement (when the trail intersects with roads). Signs also point hikers in the right direction whenever there is choice of paths. Kudos to those who maintain these trails!

one of Dominica's 365 rivers

I managed to keep my hiking boots dry for about the first third of the hike, despite the slippery and muddy descents and climbs. But, I eventually gave in to having squishy wet feet at one of the many stream-crossings we made. It is said that Dominica has 365 rivers, which is such a satisfying number--one for each day of the year. It's a very poetic notion. I need to pursue that...Anyway, I met at least a dozen of these engorged rivers during this hike, sinking my feet and legs deep into them, but luckily keeping my pack dry the whole time!

One of the bigger streams we crossed pours into the Emerald Pool. I'd visited this site once before while siteseeing with two companions I'd met at the St. James Guesthouse, but was thrilled to see it again. The water freefalls about 30 feet down into the pool via a deep notch in the volcanic rock, forming a beautiful oval pool that reflects the greenery of the surrounding forest. It really is a gem. One my last visit (there's an access path from a nearby road to the pool) we swam and stood under the falls to get a pounding but free and natural massage! One neat observation I made about the pool: the rocks in the pool are extremely well sorted by size, with bigger cobbles on the downstream side all the way down to sand on the upstream side where the river has carved out a cave of miniature canyons.


Further on down the trail, I and my similarly paced hiking partners came to a large, wide river. The trail led to a bridge, but one of the firemen who had accompanied the group in case of any safety concerns called us down to the riverbank where he was waiting. He explained that a recent landslide must have wiped out the trail, because it was impassable beyond the bridge. We would need to ford downriver a while before finding a way back up the bank to pick up the trail on the other side.


The rest of the group eventually caught up and we journeyed down river. I had little idea how long we were going for, or how we'd scramble up the steep bank, but this was the point when the hike turned into a real adventure.

the landslide that took out the trail

As we continued splashing and wading though the rushing water, it became clearer and clearer that returning to the trail would be a real challenge. The water deepened, and I removed my pack so that I could carry it balanced on my head--worried that one wrong slip would mean no more phone and no more camera. Luckily I kept my footing!


By group consensus, we forded back to the side of the river where we'd begun, except now much further downstream. We gazed across to the landslide and contemplated attempting a scramble up the loose earth, rocks, and logs, but decided we'd hoof it on the road instead. We found a way back toward the paved road through some farm fields, and passed an unimpressed bovine. I smiled, remembering the cows I met in the orchard below RTC in Bhutan.

The mood of the group changed drastically once we got on the road, and people began to talk about why in the world were we walking like this--we might as well just get a ride. Maybe it was fatigue or hunger motivating these comments, but it's interesting how what's under our feet makes a big difference in our perspective. After only a few minutes a pick up with two Rasta men in the cab drove by, and several group members flagged the truck down. I'm not sure how we managed to fit, but at least twenty of us jammed into the bed, and held on for the windy, bumpy ride. The rest of the group elected to continue to walk--we were quite close to the end of the trip anyway, and arrived soon at a pavilion in Castle Bruce where lunch awaited us!

end of the hike by the shore in Castle Bruce

Alas, there was no time to visit the beach and play in the Atlantic breakers, but it was a good time, and an easy ride back on the bus to my lovely place here in Trafalgar. I'm hoping to do at least a few more segments of the WNT during my time here in Dominica. Ideally, I may be going to the Boiling Lake soon. It's definitely on my must-see list. I'm also considering trying to get SCUBA certified while I'm here? Weeeooo many possibilities lie ahead!





Much love (and wishes to hear your hiking stories),
Carrie

I Moved to Trafalgar

Howdy my friends! I'm going to aim to do more frequent, more brief posts here on my interweb blag.

the front view toward Wotten Waven, 
Trafalgar's neighboring village

 For tonight, I'd like to give you a little tour around my new abode. About a week ago, I moved to the village of Trafalgar, up the valley from Roseau. I have a lovely apartment, with great views of the rainforest hills around me. Here, I've got tons of space, including a private room, private bath, and private porch, as well as a shared kitchen and living room. My neighbors and the man renting the place to me have all been very welcoming, and right now, there aren't any other guests in the other rooms of this apartment. So, it feels like a pretty sweet deal: more space, more privacy, and immediate access to nature. The Trafalgar falls are right up the road. Down the hill there's a cool river where I can swim, and hot pools where I can take a soak. Only a 15 minute walk across the valley is the village of Wotten Waven, renowned for its hot sulfur pools. These come in a wide variety of temperatures and colors: bright blue, green, brown, grey, and even black. I'm very lucky, and really happy here. Moving in, I was actually giddy, and had to have an impromptu solo dance party.

living/dining/kitchen

The temperatures are much cooler here in Trafalgar than in Town, and I've been instructed that whenever a breeze comes through, that means rain is on the way within the hour. I can tell you, rains and wind are welcome to break the tropical heat in my opinion. It feels like a real reward to come back to this place after spending the day in Town, where it is much hotter and louder, though I can say I've had a much better time there this week, and the harassment level is down a bit--who knows why. I'm meeting more and more people now, though, so sometimes when someone catches my attention, it is actually a familiar face saying hello!

bedroom

The only small disadvantage to living outside Town (it's about 10km/20 minutes by car) is getting transportation. Luckily, there is a strong system of mini-buses--15 passenger vans--that come through the village on a relatively frequent basis. They drive by, honking to announce their arrival, perhaps every fifteen minutes between 7:00am and 9:00am, when people are on their way to work, and maybe every hour in the middle of the day. When catching a bus back to the village from Town, one just has to walk to the bus-stop and hopefully find a vehicle that is already mostly full. Buses only depart once all the seats are taken, because the drivers don't want to go until they can get a full fare.

To flag a bus, it seems one just has to stand there on the roadside and look like you need a ride, but the standard signal is to extend an arm and let your hand dangle there. No hitchhiker's thumb needed.

Once on the bus it's a steep descent down the valley, with some hills at a 25% grade. Driving in Dominica is on the left side of the road. Most drivers whip right around the twisting, narrow roads at high speed, but I've felt very safe in cars and buses here. I've only taken to "riding" on two occasions, once on a ride back to Belles with my friends from Gaiadid Gardens when we were returning too late in the afternoon to catch a bus, and another time when about 20 fellow hikers hopped in the back of a pick-up during last Saturday's Second Annual Mountain Chicken Hike along Segment 5 of the Waitukubuli National Trail from Pont Casse to Castle Bruce. We found part of the trail completely impassable due to a recent landslide by one of the river crossings, and had to walk on the paved road. That's a story deserving of it's own post however!

my porch + prayer flags

I will write more soon on all the other things that are going on. To put it very briefly, I'm proud of the progress I'm making. I've started volunteering with the Mountain Chicken Project through the Forestry, Wildlife, and Parks Department. I'm helping out at the captive breeding facility in the Botanic Gardens in some mornings and conducting field work with the team some evenings. I'm learning a lot, and loving it. The conservation team on the project is doing a tremendous job of public outreach to inform people about the status of this critically endangered frog, such as the recent Mountain Chicken Hike and the upcoming Mountain Chicken Day on September 13th!

whee! I can see the "papa" of the two Trafalgar Falls from my porch
(it's there between the branches)

I'm also volunteering at the Roseau Library and had my first writing workshop last Wednesday. I'll write about this in its own post soon, but I'm so pleased with the turnout of the first session! 14 people attended of all ages and they want to continue next week and every Wednesday for the next two months. I'm so excited about this!

I promise to keep posting updates, and can't wait to hear from you, my loves.


Love,

Carrie

yours truly, on a hike near Pont Casse

Living in Roseau

View of Roseau from Morne Bruce

Hello! It is a doozy of a rainstorm outside right now!

Today's post will be a mixture of updates and a few moments from the last week, which I want to share with you. It's a bit of a long one, and low on pictures, but here's the breakdown if you care to scroll on through.

1. Describing Roseau

2. Thoughts on Street Harassment

3. Making Progress with my Watson Project

4. Good Moments with Ground Lizards 

(1) I've been living just outside the capital city of Roseau (rose-o) in a neighborhood called Goodwill, placing me within walking distance of practically everything in this small city. The city is laid out on a grid, and over the last several days of more-or-less aimlessly walking around, I think I know where nearly everything is located. Street signs are infrequently posted, but I've made landmarks of the different supermarkets, banks, restaurants, and shops. Most buildings are one or two stories--the tallest is four; they are predominantly concrete, but some are stone, some are corrugated tin. Many are vibrantly colored, and a few even have murals depicting nature or political scenes. 

map of Roseau, Dominica
(http://www.caribbean-on-line.com/islands/dm/images/rsm.gif)

Lunch is the most important meal of the day, and can be obtained deliciously and inexpensively at many of the local restaurants, cafes and "snackettes." There are a few larger stores such as Save-a-Lot, and Astaphan's (supermarkets), Whitchurch (an all-purpose sort-of department store), Jay's (bookstore), but most shops are very small and have a fairly limited selection. Anything packaged or imported is far more expensive than the fresh produce, but I did splurge on some peanut butter. The majority of shops are clothing and shoe boutiques, electronic shops, barbers and salons, and a smattering of other professional and government offices. 

The new market on the northwestern corner of the city, by the mouth of the Roseau River is the place to buy all kinds of fresh produce. In the old market (where slaves were once sold), which is just a few blocks up along the bay-front, vendors sell clothing, art, and local crafts. One wonderful feature of this area is The Juice Man, who makes delicious and cold by-the-order smoothies at his small stand. When I continue along the bay-front by the ferry dock and the locked cruise-ship pier (cruise ships don't come during hurricane season, and will return around November, bringing 2000 tourists per day), I pass the ritzy Fort Young Hotel and come to the Roseau Public Library, a beautiful building with a wrap around veranda and well-stocked shelves. 

On the inland, eastern side of town is the immigration office where I got my visa extension (hallelujah), and the Botanic Gardens. These gardens hug the majority of the outskirts of this side of Town, and are the biggest open space in the area. The Gardens are simultaneously a park for picnics, cricket matches, and weddings, and house the Jaco and Sisserou Parrot sanctuary and the Mountain Chicken restoration project. There are both economic and decorative sections of the gardens, where different crops and non-edible plants are cultivated. Heading away from the Botanic Gardens is the road up to Trafalgar, where I'll be living for a good portion of my stay in Dominica. 

As I was preparing for my departure, I was emailing with Prof. Matthew Allen, who was to spend a few days in Dominica in July. He sent me his impressions of the island, including a wise warning about navigating the narrow roads: "you can walk it too, but there ain't nothing like a sidewalk and the minivans tear down the street with little warning." 

(2) The lack of sidewalks (there are a few in Roseau, but they tend to disappear, or are used as parking spaces) is not such a bother, but the level of street harassment is truly irritating. It sucks that this has been a major part of my week, and I feel that it's worth writing about. So far, nothing completely rude has been said, but the attention is uncomfortable, and feels like a constant reminder that--hey, this public space you're traversing-it's not somewhere you should feel empowered and wholly human. What I hear when a man (I've only heard it from men) says, "hey, why don't you come home with me?" or "ohh, pretty white girl" or a seemingly innocuous but leering "helllooo," it makes me feel anxious, stripped of my full personhood, and sometimes even pissed off. I don't get mad very easily, but this hits right hard at the angry nerves. 

These comments might seem excusable to me if these types of greetings were between all people. It would be different if the atmosphere were actually one where everybody greeted each other, even strangers. That simply isn't the case here. As you might expect, people who know one another will share a knock (a fist bump) or a hug or a wave and a brief conversation when passing on the street. Other strangers don't greet each other, save perhaps by eye-contact. Women hardly acknowledge one another at all. I am curious as to whether this is because we are so burnt out by the annoying attention of cat-callers that we prefer the polite indifference of not minding each other's business. I've taken to sending silent thank you's to men I pass who don't cat-call at me, in hopes that this little telepathic signal will add to a minuscule amount of karmic progress. 

Let me be clear: it's not that I want to be ignored. Far from it. As someone who has to push herself to engage in conversation, and who doesn't find it terribly easy to make friendships, I am grateful to those who will offer a polite greeting, or help direct me to the 'ital' cafe I was trying to find. When something like that can transcend into the finding of common ground, it's a truly beautiful thing, and makes me feel good about myself and people in general. But--if the only motivation someone has for calling at me in the moment I walk by them is the fact that I am female or white, I'd rather they kept it to themselves. 

When I discussed this with one of my friends at Gaiadid, she pointed out, "I don't get why they do it. Does it ever actually work? Do any women actually respond to this crap?" I can't imagine that any of these men find women to willingly spend time with them by harassing them. It can't be about attraction. I'm certain it's about control, and I am perfectly fine and capable being in control of my own self thank-you-very-much. That's sort of the whole idea behind the Watson (and human rights). In a way, this harassment has brought the issues of race and gender and other forms of privilege to the forefront of my attention, and it's good for me to be conscious of how my womanhood and whiteness play roles in my day to day life, and how these elements of my being influence those around me. I firmly believe, however, that no matter the factors of a person's life, be it their race, gender, sexuality, age, ability, income, religion, etc., we all deserve respect and freedom from the danger and marginalization that results from street harassment.

I appreciate your having read through my thoughts on this, and I would like your feedback, especially on this last point on the matter: what can I do about it? For now I'm just ignoring it, walking by, disengaging. I worry that this is tacit approval, however. I realize I probably can't stop it from happening, but I have considered ways I could respond: "oh--I didn't know you were talking to me. Did you want to engage in a meaningful conversation? No? Oh. Well then." I don't know that I would actually say that--it does make me feel better to imagine it--but I also don't want any of these situations to escalate. If it's these guys' egos that are at stake--what would they do in defense of their precious sexism, when confronted? What do you all suggest?

Free Writing Workshop Flyer, hosted by me!

(3) On another note, I have been making a fair amount of progress with project related activities. I'm going to be hosting a writing workshop next Wednesday, August 27th at the Roseau Library from 3-5:00 pm. I'm trying to spread the word about the event, and hope that some writers will attend! I was lucky enough to meet poet/novelist Alick Lazare, author of Pharcel: Runaway Slave, Kalinago Blood, and Nature Island Verses, yesterday, and he said he would be there!

I plan to volunteer at the Roseau Library a few days a week, and when the school term starts in September, get involved in their events with the local kids. I may also be able to get involved at the primary school at Ross Medical School in Portsmouth, but we will see!

I'm also volunteering at the Botanic Gardens through the Forestry and Parks Department. Hopefully through this, I'll also be active in their Mountain Chicken Project, which is an effort to study and restore the populations of the Mountain Chicken/Crapaud (Leptodactylus fallax), a large frog endemic to Dominica and Montserrat. 

This frog has been threatened over the last decade due to the introduction of the Chytridiomycosis fungal disease on the island in the early 2000s. Once a common food and then a delicacy here, the frogs are seriously threatened, and I'm excited to be able to get involved in efforts to boost their populations. I'll be going on the Second Annual Mountain Chicken Hike this Saturday as one of my first activities with the conservation team!

the Mountain Chicken, looking stately
(http://www.bbc.co.uk/nature/life/Leptodactylus_fallax)

(4) On a related note, I'd like to share a story with you about an afternoon I spent in the Botanic Gardens while I was exploring the city. In a book lent to me by the family at Gaiadid Gardens, Ensouling Language by Stephen Harrod Buhner, the author describes the importance of moments of duende in one's writing, and how these add depth not only to written work, but to the way we experience meaningful instances in everyday life.

Buhner writes that:
         "There are moments in life when we experience something out of the ordinary. Moments when we feel the trembling and then a long silence. Something shakes us out of our daily world into something new and we feel an ecstasy. We get caught up in something outside of and greater than the self. We feel a moment of what Garcia Lorca calls duende."

I had one of these moments. I can't wait to have more.

I was wandering through the Botanic Gardens, trying to get my bearings and find a way to spend my afternoon. I felt much less like a stranger walking around the greenery of the park than I had in the streets of Roseau. I passed by the Bamboo House, where the rapid-growing, thick cords of bamboo had been planted and shaped into a chapel-like enclosure. I spent a few minutes at the parrot sanctuary where three Jaco Parrots (Red-necked Amazon Parrots) flew between branches in their trees inside their large-but-caged house, preening their long green and yellow feathers.

Across the lawn on the far side of the gardens, I saw a series of stairs leading up to a sign that read "Jack's Walk." It pointed into the wooded slope on the far end of the gardens, and I thought that this would be a wonderful retreat. Buildings can never provide the same kind of shade as trees. I took long strides up these steep steps, and followed the arrow-shaped sign up a wide path that made a series of hairpin curves up the side of Morne Bruce, the hill that overlooks the city. As I went, taking my time up the winding trail, but nonetheless beading with sweat in the tropical humidity, I heard the raspy calls of small brownish-black birds flitting in the overhead branches. I also became quickly aware of many small, quick rustlings in the underbrush on either side of the path.

I smiled, unabashedly curious, and glad to have such a discovery to find on my own. I surprised myself, and I'm sure, the little creature, when a slim brown lizard skittered across the track a few feet in front of me and I shouted, delighted, "Hello!"

Soon enough, as a I went along, dozens of lizards darted and dashed across and down the path, paying no attention to the differences in topography between the flat path and the near-vertical slope it cut. I made another of the hairpin turns and came upon another of the reptiles. At first, I misidentified it as a skink, but later learned it was a Dominican Ground Lizard, about a foot long, with a graceful sloping head, a grey scaly hide, and rows of lateral turquoise splotches marking either side toward its tail. It was sitting in a bundle of a plant that my mother has in a pot at home--a plant she called mother-in-law's tongue, also known as snake plant, or Sansevieria. It's mottled green leaves stood upright like a crown or a bower for the lizard I had intruded upon.

Unlike the dozens of others I had seen that day, this lizard didn't hurry away when it saw me. I knelt down slowly, excited at the chance to take a picture, and took a quick snapshot with my simple point-and-click camera. The lizard made eye contact with me. I decided I shouldn't move, and stayed crouched, holding the gaze of the animal. I think we remained that way for several minutes. I remember thinking, "I won't move until you do." I don't remember much else from those minutes, except the way the lizard gazed back at me across its slender body with its yellow eye.

When the lizard did move, it went up the trail. I said softly, aloud, "I'd like to come with you." After a moment's pause, the lizard began walking upwards in the center of the trail. Feeling a great sense of awe, the origin of which I wasn't particularly sure, I began following the lizard, remaining a few feet behind, as I would with any other hiking companion.

The lizard continued up the trail, rounding each of the hairpin turns. Once in a while, it would pause, and glance over itself toward me, waiting close behind. Seeming satisfied, it would face forward again, and resume our journey up the center of the path. I'm not making this up. This lizard really guided me up the path. Near the top, where the path soon opened up into a field edged by flowering Flamboyant trees at the summit of Morne Bruce, the lizard paused again. After a moment's eye contact again, in which I once more crouched down as a gesture of respect and thanks, the lizard disappeared off the path with a flick of its tail in the leaves and grass of the underbrush. I stayed another moment, feeling the strange sobering-up that follows a moment of sincere magic, then made the last few steps to the summit where I sat and overlooked the city, framed by an old cannon and a statue of Christ. These large monuments didn't seem to reflect the encounter I had just had nearly as well as did the bright red flowers of the trees and the wide clearness of the open sky and seas.

It wasn't until a few minutes had passed that I noticed an elderly man sitting against one of the Flamboyant trees, who greeted me with a friendly wave. I wondered if he could see the effect of the magic that was still making me feel vaguely luminous. I smiled and waved in reply.

our hero, a Dominican Ground Lizard

I hope you are doing well. As always, I'd love to hear from you.

Love,
Carrie

Good day, Dominica!

Dominica's west coast toward Roseau, view from Scott's Head

Hello there! Welcome to Dominica (Wai'tukubuli), the "nature isle of the Caribbean!" This 290 square mile island in the West Indies is to be my home for the next few months, as long as all goes according to plan. Tall is her [beautiful] body.


I just ended my two-week stay at Gaiadid Gardens, wwoofing with my host, Frankie Jane and her family. I began my Watson year at this farm, and am very happy to have done so. For now, I’m beginning at my next place, the St James Guesthouse in Roseau, and am happily reflecting on the journey so far. From here I plan to work with the Botanic Gardens and Roseau Library and see what opportunities I can seize along the way.

steps in the path at Gaiadid Gardens

My last night at Gaiadid Gardens was spent hanging out with the family, listening to music and settling in after a long, adventuresome day visiting Scott’s Head, Roseau, and Trafalgar Falls. The tropical sun set red, implying fine weather for today (which turned out to be true). It rains nearly every day in occasional bursts of downpour. These would catch us when we were out planting new starts of kale, green beans, and cabbage; harvesting dasheen or tania root, or tending to the bounteous banana trees. Sometimes in these rain spells we’d head back down to the Domes (two adjoined geodesic domes that house the kitchen, living, and sleeping spaces) or simply take shelter under the long, wide banana leaves. Often, we’d simply work through the rain, letting it wash off our sweat and bring out our laughs. Spell is such a good word for such weather--with its implications of magic and lettering. Storms have thunderous speaking voices, and tremendous range.

Negre Mawon and one of the farm's three mountain streams

Gaiadid Gardens is right in the center of the island of Dominica, in the village of Belles, located near the Central Forest Reserve. It is directly at the base of the mountain, Negre Mawon, where Maroons, escaping slavery, lived and hid out as they avoided or fought the British in the 17th and 18th centuries. The boys took me up the mountain one sunnier day, and I’d never climbed anything steeper or slipperier. We scrambled up only by the grace of the buttress roots stretching outward and upward from the spirit-wood and gum trees forming the canopy, as well as the black mangroves, which the boys called “bow trees” because their roots could be cut and used to make toy bows. At the top as we ascended through curtains of aptly named razor grass onto the narrow ridge of the summit, and I taught the boys to shout Lha Gheylol! 

eastern view from atop Negre Mawon toward Castle Bruce and the Atlantic

swinging on lianas

On the way down from this 2,145 foot mountain, the boys used their cutlasses to sever long liana vines from where they rooted in the ground, leaving them to swing free over the rainforest slope. I was nervous, but these vines were strong, and we swung on them. Whee!

the upper house

the Domes, powerhouse, and banana trees

The farm itself is 26 acres. It is set far up and away from the winding road that crisscrosses the island from the airport in Marigot to Roseau (Town). Three mountain streams run through the gardens, clear and clean enough to drink straight off the hillside. I do so in great gulps. The orchards range from watercress patches to fields of bananas and cacao trees, beds of flowers and greens, sugar cane, dasheen, peach palms, and the tall coconut trees who drop their wonderful, versatile fruits down to us. Many other delicious foods grow here, and so does the friendly family and their visitors. My hosts--now friends--(who are very selective of their online presence and asked me not to post names or photos of their faces) are very experienced world travelers themselves, living in places as far flung as Vanuatu, Panama, Mexico, and more over the past twenty years.

At Gaiadid Gardens I ate local and vegan. Nearly all the food comes right from the farm.  I stayed in a tent under the upper house, and remained nice and dry except for one time when Tropical Storm Bertha blew through and knocked the tent down while I was upstairs making jewelry with some of the girls. We gathered up everything amid the wind and rain, and all slept soundly inside the house with the hatches battened down over the windows. I’m feeling exhilarated and healthy. I’m even developing a real tan!

It is a rare treat to find a place where one can feel so immediately welcome and included. I feel like I have made real friends, and they’ve encouraged me to come back and visit anytime during my stay in Dominica, which I am certain I will do. I am truly lucky to have begun my adventure this way. You could call it synchronicity, serendipity--it is definitely a strong start. Fifty weeks more doesn’t actually seem like that much, and so I’m trying to make each day full.

pineapple ready to be picked!

My days at Gaiadid Gardens typically began with a breakfast of raw ripe yellow or cooked green bananas, and a smoothie of blended pineapple and turmeric. Once full and weather permitting, we would spend a few hours in the gardens weeding or planting or harvesting. If the weather was too rainy we would work inside the Domes preparing dehydrated bananas, or helping to roast, winnow, grind and temper handcrafted chocolate bars! Then comes lunch: usually a salad and some type of “provision” such as dasheen, green bananas, breadfruit, or tania. This is followed by either a little more work in the gardens, or playing with the kids, reading and writing.

The family has lent me a number of books, such as Spell of the Sensuous by David Abrams, the Secret Teachings of Plants, and Ensouling Language by Stephen Harrod Buhner. I also got to immerse myself in The Gift - a collection of poems of Hafiz, and a copy of the Tao Te Ching. I was amazed the first night reading Spell of the Sensuous that Abrams was also a Watson Fellow! I wonder if I will really write a book of my own about what I learn this year. I hope to!

strawberry guavas

I've been doing a fair amount of my own poetry and writing, plus daily journaling, and long conversations with the family about their motivations, and their ideas about culture and nature. It’s been wonderful to connect with them and disconnect from internet and other influences for the past few weeks.

My host, Frankie Jane, did take me to Town a few times. One trip was for errands like money exchange, getting a phone, and checking email, and the second time for a day of the Nature Island Literary Festival. She showed me around the main area of Town, from the market and ferry terminal to some good restaurants and up to the Botanic Gardens and University of the West Indies campus, where the Literary Festival was held.

The Literary Festival was a little unpredictable, but was very interesting. I got to meet a few writers and thinkers, and was lucky enough to get contact information for many of them. I hope to engage with them and those they know more in the future. I’ve got a good feeling about it.

atop Scott's Head; below is the lagoon where we snorkeled

On another wonderful day we took a trip to the southern tip of the island at Scott's Head, where we sunbathed and snorkeled in the Marine Reserve. I could have spent all day swimming on this reef that extended out from the narrow beach for a shallow portion a few hundred feet long, then dropped off to hundreds of feet down into ethereal sun-streaked blue. I was happy to see a diversity of corals, sponges, fish, and invertebrates, many of which I had learned about at Southwater Cay in Belize, especially a seemingly strong population of Diadema sea urchins which help keep the algae levels down on the reef. What a good sign!

Trafalgar Falls

On the same day trip we visited Trafalgar Falls, where two rivers meet to form the Mama and Papa falls, forming turbulent white columns in the near vertical forest. I was surprised by how quiet the falls were, despite their great volume and height. The names of mama and papa reminded me of the Mo Chu and Po Chu rivers that meet in Punakha in Bhutan. It makes me really happy to find these moments of connection in such seemingly separate parts of the world and my own experiences. 

Only a minute's walk down from the falls is a hot sulfur stream, where we soaked in the warm mild-smelling pools. The different textures of the sulfur deposits on the volcanic river stones were what amazed me the most here, from sandpaper-y smooth coatings to sharp flaky chips, like cracking paint. There is so much to notice, and the slower pace of life here is encouraging me to really look.

sulfur pools for soaking and swimming

I’ll be in more regular internet access over the next month or so, and I should be able to post a little more frequently. I am sending you much love and hope that things are going well your way. Please write to me if you feel inclined!

Much tropical love and sunshine,

Carrie

local Roku, used as food, body-paint, and dye