"Dominica: pursuing the infamous hike to Boiling Lake"
Known for its “wild side”, Dominica is graciously covered in a vast array of mountainous jungle, providing for extensive exploration. The island is in fact the only one in the Eastern Caribbean to boast a UNESCO designated World Heritage Site. This is not a Caribbean island known for its spring-break bars and crowds, instead it provides for an intimate experience, both with its natural environment and its people.
The island is well endowed with hiking trails, allowing the adventurer to discover Dominica’s raw nature first hand. One of the well known adventurous hikes is in the midst of the World Heritage site and is home to the world’s largest volcanic heated lake: Boiling Lake. Heated and “boiling” on account of hot sulfur gases.
Our guesthouse owners Phil and Carol offer to get a guide for us to navigate the trail. A guide runs about 80 Eastern Caribbean Dollars per person and is necessary for navigating certain sections of the trail. It is best to ask a guesthouse owner if they know someone personally to ensure a quality guide. Phil and Carol know a good one named Hagen, and he comes by the guesthouse the day before our planned hike to discuss prices and what to wear.
“You wear good shoes tomorrow,” he says accompanied by a toothless smile, “and bring a jacket. This might be the Caribbean, but up there it can get cold and rainy!”
We have been warned. We are ready for the adventure to begin.
After a relatively short drive on the road which twists up into the hills to the east of Roseau, Dominica’s capital, we make it to Ladaut, the small checkpoint village. Yet getting to the trailhead proves more difficult than arriving at the village. The Toyota Corolla that we have rented rolls slowly along as we try to avoid large potholes and broken asphalt, while at the same time attempting to sight a sign. The search for a road sign is somewhat futile in Dominica; we stop and ask for directions.
“Is this the road to the Boiling Lake trailhead?”
“No, no, no. You needed to turn left at the phone booth,” responds the man working in his garden, “stay cool man.”
We find the phone booth and turn, and do in fact make it to the trailhead where we are met by Hagen and the rest of the group we will be hiking with, complete with two Swedes, one Norwegian, a French couple living in Martinique and a woman from St. Lucia. After names are exchanged, and several travel anecdotes, we take off slowly up the steps. “Just step on the sticks,” Hagen shouts out, referring to the logs that have been placed to avoid stepping in the mud.
The wet and humid jungle eventually opens up and we descend to Breakfast River. Everyone takes a drink and splashes their faces in order to rejuvenate. This is done slowly and methodically, as across the river it is apparent that we will only be going in one direction: up. Hagen is however as happy and full of energy as ever. Someone asks him how often he guides. “Oh, three or four times a week. I would do seven if someone asked me!” he says, his toothless smile appearing again.
The trail does indeed go up: straight up. The wind whips up as we walk along the ridge, views spanning down into the valley below. Some in the group put sweaters on to protect against the wind, and the French couple in our group offers fresh baked banana bread purchased from a bakery that morning.
We begin the descent from the ridge and into Valley of Desolation. As the altitude changes so does the environment. A strong odor of sulfur soon hangs in the air. Here the characteristics of a volcanic environment cannot be missed. This section is also the main reason for a guide, as the trail is unmarked and can be difficult to find through the piles of volcanic rock. Hagen seems to skip along over the sputtering sulfur springs. He stops at a section where the river crosses our trail. He shows us how the bluish gray color of the rocks is in fact sediment that can be wiped off. He encourages us to trace our name onto the rocks as he finds one of his own and writes “Hagen’s group!”
This sediment also creates thick clay which smells strongly of sulfur. “It is good for the face,” he laughs as he smears it onto the face of the Norwegian. The Norwegian laughs and continues to cover his face in smears of the clay until it looks as if he as adorned himself with war makeup. “It makes your face like a baby’s butt. . . smooth!” the wrinkles next to Hagen’s aged eyes squeeze together as he laughs warmly. The Norwegian looks amused.
We descend farther down into the valley and past cascading water falling into naturally formed pools. Hagen assures us that we will have a chance to enjoy these pools, which are filled with hot water on the way back. We are almost there he adds noting the look of desperation which is starting to appear on some faces.
Soon we climb up over a ridge and round a corner where several hikers are standing. I take myself to the edge to look at the infamous lake, which is without a doubt boiling in the center. With the lake as a view and our noses know accustomed to the smell of sulfur we all take out sandwiches and water, treating ourselves to a short break. Hagen explains that a few years ago a guide fell into the lake and had to be airlifted to a hospital in Martinique where he stayed for two months and was treated for severe burns. “And that is why we don’t swim in the lake,” he adds chuckling to himself.
The return hike is a little draining, but improved by the dip in the natural hot pools. As we reach the last section of jungle it begins to rain. Soon we are in the midst of an outright downpour where even the large branches and leaves of the trees above us can do nothing to protect.
Back at the trailhead, Hagen asks us how we all enjoyed the hike. Tired and exhausted, everyone manages to smile and express their gratitude. He encourages us to explore more of Dominica, emphasizing the importance of going to the smaller villages on the island to meet more locals like himself and avoid crowds of cruise boat tourists. “You see,” says Hagen, “those who enjoy Dominica are those who stay a long time. They get to know the jungle and the people. Those are the ones who keep coming back.” I think he may be right.