After the walk to Chateau Dubuc and to the Mangrove Swamp on the Caravelle Peninsula, we decided to take a late afternoon stroll to the Phare (Lighthouse) de la Caravelle.

The walk was peaceful and shady and gently sloping until the final steep ascent to the lighthouse it’s self. The lighthouse, which was built in 1862, was surprisingly small. Despite that, it is the highest lighthouse in France because of the elevation of the land it is built on. Next to the lighthouse was a view point with three hundred and sixty degree views of the island. Unfortunately it was somewhat misty, but it was still spectacular.

On the way back, we decided to take a detour down to the meteorological station stationed on the very end of the Peninsula. This is one of half a dozen stations which monitor hurricanes tsunamis and seismic activity across the Caribbean. The station itself was gated off so we turned round to come back – but seeing a glimpse of coastline and sea, we headed down even further to have a look at the wild and rocky coastline. A path continued on round the coast and on impulse I suggested that instead of taking the direct route, we took this path instead. So much more interesting to do a circular walk! David hesitated a bit – would there be time? – as he pointed out, it was almost 5 and it gets dark by 6 – but seeing my enthusiasm, he decided to throw caution to the wind and go for it!

 

We set off, hugging the edge of the coast, the rough path taking us up over lumps of rock and boulders. The landscape was magnificent but forbidding with dark cliffs and the sea smashing the rocks below. Soon we met a very fit looking jogger coming the other way. He was in in all the gear; running shoes, water pack, lycra, etc. He informed us it was an hour and fifteen minutes back to the car park, then wished us ‘bon chance’ as he headed off, grinning to himself.  Ominous.

As we hastened on, the sun dipped behind the hill and the light began to fade. The path turned away from the coast and into the mangrove swamps. Bats flitted around our heads and crabs skittered across the path. Suddenly, I screamed as something big ran across the path. David motioned me to be quiet and reached for his phone to take a picture of the big, scary thing.

A cute little Manacou (the Caribbean version of the Opossum). Poor thing, I think I scared him more than he scared me!

The swamps gave way to Savanna, the canopy of trees making it even harder to see. It was hot and we were almost out of water. I edged my feet along the ground. Tree roots lay across the path just waiting to trip me up. I briefly wondered why I had set out on this path. Me and my great ideas. Yes, I think it’s good to be spontaneous but there’s spontaneousness and there’s thoughtlessness. The line had well and truly been crossed and we were now in horror film territory – hapless tourists wondering alone in a dark forest. If one of us tripped and twisted an ankle – or worse – what would we do? No one in the entire world knew where we were. David chose that moment to observe that the introduction of mongooses to Martinique to control poisonous snakes failed, because mongooses hunt in the day, the snakes are active only at night….

As my thoughts darkened, something magical happened. The trees lit up with dancing lights. It was like the Coldplay gig at last year’s Glastonbury, where everyone raised their LED wristbands at once.  No, it was better, because this was completely green and ethically sound. Thousands of fireflies.  Lights will guide you home. And suddenly I was smiling. We were going to be alright.

15 minutes later, we popped out of the trees, right by the entrance to Chateau Dubuc. A few minutes walk back up the hill and we were back at the car.