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I climbed the Montagne Pelée. And when I say climbed, I do mean it quite literally. It was not an uphill walk, it was a climb, had it been any more difficult you'd probably need to use ropes. It was steep, it was hard work, it's not an experience I'm likely to repeat. I'm both proud to have made it all the way to the top and ashamed that the stiffness in my legs lasted so long afterwards - 3 days at least (perhaps a good reason to climb up more mountains).
I was invited by some friends who had assembled a group together. I left home at 6.00am for the 6.30 meeting time and was first to arrive by more than half an hour. We didn't end up leaving our rendez-vous point until after 8.30! Not in the least bit an early bird I was quite disgusted that we ended up waiting so long for everyone to arrive. Waiting is not fun, waiting for strangers you can't even call and scream at is worse.
It felt like the day was off to a bad start and I was losing my motivation to go ahead with scaling this Martiniquan landmark when we got to the car park and starting point and the heavens opened. Pelée is always crowned with a cloak of mist and clouds, so this was not really unexpected. It's a bad weather sign if the peak is visible, so it was certainly going to at least drizzle or be overcast at some point during the expedition. Full throttle rain, though is never an ideal condition for mountain activities. It stopped and the boys were ready to go, so we set off. 'Crap, really?' I said to myself as we made our way towards the start of the walk, why am I here, I'm not a hiker, hikers wear crap clothes.
The mountain Pelée is the volcano that made the island, it last erupted in 1902 wiping out the entire population of the former capital St. Pierre, save one happy and lucky prisoner who was saved by his incarceration. The irony. The walk is made up of three sections, the first of which was largely like walking up 'steps' wooden when the ground was loose and bare rock when it wasn't. It was steep, I thought the rest of it would be much the same, I was mistaken. The second and third sections were a grueling test of stamina, and will to keep on going. My will to keep on going was really only a survival instinct to complete the climb and be able to return to normal life, flat ground and no longer be in pain.
The first stopping point was a welcome pause. As the start of the next section revealed itself to us, out of the mist, I was concerned. How do so many people manage to climb this thing? It's the kind of climb that should be reserved only for professionals, surely? We were really in the peak of the mountain, no-longer the foothills.
The second section was even harder than it looked. It was vicious. A lot steeper than the first, seeing us drop down a crater only to climb back out of the other side and we did climb not walk, each step up was well over knee high, more like mid-thigh or hip, it was hardcore. I knew I had to keep up a rhythm because stopping for a break would render the task of getting out of the crater impossible. It was the most physically exhausting thing I've done in a really long time, or possibly ever. The climb and descent took over four hours. I don't know how high you are at the starting point but the peak reaches 1,400 meters above sea level.
Alarmingly, as hard as I found the climb, some of the boys in the group wanted to do it at speed and seemed almost to run, god knows how they had the strength or stamina. Mutant legs, half man half, grass hopper. It made me feel sick to imagine the physical strain of attempting to do the same, I was it seemed at full throttle by my own standards, how pathetic. Must take more regular exercise, this is not cool.
The climb was misty, the mountain wasn't visible, we walked and climbed sections where all we could see in the near distance was a dark shadow in the mist discerning a huge, towering chunk of rock. An edge of mountain which disappearing into a misty oblivion stretching up to the sky. It was as dramatic as it was disorientating. Mountains are not things I spend much time contemplating, but, when scaling the side of one of them you are somewhat forced to. They are monstrous, huge, imposing, hostile yet beautiful, the shear size of them seems to hold so many secrets. At one moment tropical, lush green rich vegetation, beautiful waterfalls, the next bare, menacing dry rock where nothing stands a chance of survival. So it was fitting that we found alien-like plant life growing gnarled in this misty, high altitude environment. And when the sun does come out I can bet it's brutal, a steamy bath-like sweat fest which is at the same time dry and dehydrating thanks to the thinner air, physical exhaustion and the bare rock. Dwarf wet loving plants gnarled, some even cactus like. I've never seen anything quite like it.
We were fortunate and the sky did clear for a few very fast minutes once we had got to the top and we enjoying a well deserved rest, soaking up the impressive view of both coast lines tumbling down to the south. It was ipressive, I felt I had earnt the right to look out on this scene. Martinique really is small. A strange sense of claustrophobia came over me, in the open air and on top of Pelée, how can I live on an island that is so small, and even worse be restricted to such a small part of it, with no access to transport?
The descent, given the ascent included more climbing since we had done the big crater plus other ups and down over peaks but was faster. I was running on empty and needed to get to the café consume something high in sugar. It was tackling the final section with completely battered legs that was the hardest, the even steps going down, impossible to run because I couldn't absorb the impact on my knees well enough in my exhaustion. Every step down each knee felt like it was going to give way. My muscle groups for going down stairs were in protest. My legs wobbly and unable to support the weight of my body with each downward jolt. It was supposed to be a relief to no longer be climbing up but it was in fact just as painful.
We were all starving when we got to the end, so sat down to eat and rehydrate and then drove to one of the beaches between St. Pierre and Carbet for the most pleasurable low sky, sun drenched, late afternoon swim ever. The cool and calming sensation of the water and my weightlessness in it was exaclty what I needed post Pelée. It was an almost surreal experience. Dream-like due to exhaustion because of the endorphins or simply blissfully happy to be floating and not fighting myself to climb.
Here are some misty photos. And some alien plants too:
