Nine volcanoes, whales, jungles, beaches... and a carnival too
Wendy Driver discovers the astonishing range of delights packed into tiny Dominica
IT WAS party time in Dominica. The narrow streets of the capital, Roseau, were festooned with bunting and teeming with locals and tourists alike. Reggae blasted out from the speakers as I watched dancers dressed in brilliantly coloured, skimpy costumes, elaborate masks and headdresses making their way slowly past me. Some had shimmering cloaks and butterfly wings spanning the width of the street.
I had arrived in time for carnival but this tiny Caribbean island (not to be confused with the Dominican Republic) is more likely to appeal to hikers and nature-lovers than party-goers, thanks to its blacksand beaches, rainforest and mountain peaks shrouded in mist.
Wiggly roads and walking trails criss-cross the landscape, although much of the interior is impenetrable jungle and therefore inaccessible. The island has no fewer than nine volcanoes, and volcanic activity is much in evidence. Thermal springs, mud pools and fumaroles are visible everywhere.
At Wotton Waven, I l owered myself into a series of hot pools in a shady valley, its mineral waters purportedly having healing properties to cure skin complaints. Nearby, steam rose from some bubbling sulphur pools stinking of rotten eggs.
BERT, a diving instructor, took me snorkelling at t he aptl y named Champagne Reef. We glided through streams of bubbles rising to the surface, like pearl droplets, from vents in an underwater volcano. At one point Bert pushed his snorkel into one of the cracks and poured piping hot water into my hand.
‘ If the bubbles stop, we need to get out of here fast,’ he told me. I wasn’t sure if he was joking.
At Dominica’s southern tip, I scrambled up Scott’s Head, a promontory overlooking both the Atlantic and the Caribbean. Standing beside the old British cannon, all that remains of the 18th Century British military base at Fort Cashacrou, I watched pelicans diving for fish in the crescent- shaped Soufriere Bay. It was here, in a submerged crater, that the deepest dive of a sperm whale was recorded at more than 9,000ft.
Dominica is the only place in the world where sperm whales live year- round, so I joined Captain Imran, from Dive Dominica, to search for them. As soon as the boat left the quay, he dropped a hydrophone overboard to listen out for their clicks and whistles. All I could hear was gurgling water, but he must have deciphered something because we sped out to sea.
It turned out to be a pod of pilot whales and we soon found ourselves surrounded by more than 50 of them. They were so close that we could hear them snorting as they came up for air.
Accommodation on the island ranges from simple guesthouses to small hotels. The stylish Pagua Bay House, facing the Atlantic, had just six comfortable cabanas built of galvanised steel to resemble banana sheds. It stands alone on a terraced hillside, and commands stunning views across Pagua Bay where the huge surf rolls in.
Further south, the more traditional Rosalie Bay Resort lies on a black-sand beach covered in driftwood where sea turtles come to nest between March and September. Its 26 villas and rooms are scattered around the pool in tropical gardens.
It is a dramatic setting. Towering black cliffs rise sheer from the ocean, and waves crash against the wild and rugged coastline.
One morning I hiked to the next bay with Judy, my American guide. We set off through the ruins of an old sugar plantation and climbed a rocky track, clambering over tree trunks and edging our way across narrow ledges.
Judy was passionate about the flora and fauna, crunching up leaves and herbs for me to smell, and identifying flowers and plants. She even broke off the white waxy fruit of the noni tree for me to taste. It smelled like an overripe cheese but apparently it boosts the immune system.
A few miles inland you can head to one of the main tourist attractions. Emerald Pool is hidden away in the steamy jungle where you can bathe in the shallow water with a waterfall cascading over you. It was an idyllic spot, with dappled sunlight streaming through the canopy, its vivid green reflected in the pool. I arrived early to have it to myself before busloads of cruise passengers turned up. The only sound was the cackle and whistle of birds high in the foliage.
Serious bird-watchers can spend a day with Dr Birdy, Dominica’s
expert ornithologist. I met him at the Syndicate Nature Trail on the edge of the Morne Diablotin National Park in the hope of seeing the national bird – the imperial amazon parrot. Within seconds, a large black shadow passed over us and settled at the top of a magnolia tree. ‘You’re lucky,’ my guide told me. ‘People can wait five hours to see this bird.’
I couldn’t pinpoint it through my binoculars but he homed his telescope on it for a close-up.
TO BE honest, I couldn’t get too excited about it. I much preferred the tiny hummingbirds that darted among the pink and yellow lantana flowers, some with exotic crests and others an iridescent sapphire blue. On a boat trip along the Indian River I spotted one of their intricately woven nests in the branch of a tree. It was the size of a golf ball and as the female flew off, I peered inside to find two miniature eggs.
A local boy, Ijah, rowed me past young egrets and blue herons on the lookout for a fish supper. Mangrove trees blotted out the sun, forming a tunnel overhead, while a tangled web of their buttress roots disappeared beneath the water. We ended up at a rustic bar in the depths of the rainforest where we sat under a thatched awning drinking rum punches.
Ru mistaken very seriously here. The Islet View restaurant on the Atlantic coast serves more than 60 varieties, including one named after Donald Trump.
On the last day, I headed up the north coast to Batibou, situated on the private Hampstead Estate. It was a real castaway beach, with swaying palm and golden sand. Irma, who owns the estate, somehow m managed to produce gourmet cuisine over a coconutco husk barbecue. I feasted on mahimahi in a mango and whisky sauce, with sesame slaw and aubergine fries.
Afterwards I flopped in a hammock and dozed off to the hypnotic sound of the waves lapping the shore – a blissful way to end the holiday.