My wife Victoria and I have been trying to travel more in the past few years, especially to escape the bleak Chicago winter. Last year we spent a very pleasant January week in Zihuatanejo, Mexico on the Pacific coast. The weather was wonderful, the water was warm, the bay was beautiful, and the small fishing town of Zihuatanejo was both charming and authentic: unspoiled by over-development and the out-sized, sanitized resorts that have turned much of the Yucatán peninsula into an all-inclusive Disneyland on the Caribbean.
We wanted to have a similar mid-winter experience this year. I would have happily returned to enchanting Zihuatanejo, but with so much more of the world to see, we looked to escape to another tropical location in our hemisphere. To that end, I typed “romantic islands in the Caribbean” into Google and found the island of St. Lucia. I had never heard of it before.
First, the photos were amazing. Second, it was listed among the best locations for a romantic getaway. And third — and perhaps most importantly — it was described as an island visited by very few children. Indeed, many of the resorts had no kids at all.
So, given all the natural wonders on the island, its scenic beauty, its history, and no kids yelling and splashing around, my wife and I boarded a flight on March 2nd for a week-long stay in St. Lucia.
Monday, March 2nd
We took a 6:00 am flight to Miami, changed planes, and arrived in St. Lucia at 4:00 pm on Monday evening at Hewanorra International Airport (UVF) on the southern tip of the island.
Stepping off the plane on the tarmac, we were met with a 76-degree breeze. A promising start. Next to greet us was our friendly driver. As we settled into his cool, comfy SUV, he offered us the first of what would be many bottles of Piton, the local beer we’d enjoy in the coming days.
Our hotel, the Green Fig Resort, was an hour away in the town of Soufriere, which was the capital city in French colonial days. Our driver noted that the British and French fought for control of St. Lucia 14 times, but the Brits won the last battle. So, the island is part of the Commonwealth.
The ride from the airport to Soufriere was a white-knuckle adventure in itself. The winding mountain road was barely two lanes wide, with one blind curve after another, but our driver kept his foot on the gas even as he happily answered all our questions. We managed to reach Soufriere in one piece — delighted that we’d chosen not to rent a car.
The Green Fig Resort is nestled in the hillside above Soufriere Bay. The view of the town and the bay is dominated by the two Piton Mountains, a UNESCO World Heritage site. (But more on the Pitons later.)
From the resort’s outdoor lobby, we walked down more than fifty stone steps and settled into our room. Once our things were squared away, we went back up those fifty steps for dinner, and, for me, the first of many Mai Tais.
Getting up and down those fifty steps would help to condition us for the adventures ahead.
The Mai Tais would help, too.
Tuesday, March 3rd
We booked our excursions through the Green Fig. All we had to do was be in the lobby at the appointed time and a driver from the resort would take us to our destination. (Always an adventurous drive around blind curves at astonishing speeds. But that’s how the locals roll.) On this morning, it was just a short drive to our first excursion: the Tet Paul Nature Hike.
The Tet Paul Nature Trail was a great place to start. Our guide, like all the guides and drivers we’d meet on St. Lucia, was pleasant and informative. He led our group of three couples up a mountain path, pointing out the brilliant, exotic rainforest vegetation along the way. The whole time on St. Lucia, Victoria and I were amazed by the variety, shape, and color of the flowers and vines. The hillsides above Soufriere are one giant botanical garden. You won’t find these plants at Home Depot.
At the summit of the trail, we were pleased to find a small shack from which one could obtain a cool Piton beer, among other beverages and assorted island swag. I never missed an opportunity to imbibe a glorious Piton – and to do so in sight of those great mountains was extra-special. Next to the shack was a platform that provided a breathtaking 360-degree view of the whole island. Just fabulous. It was a bit of heaven on Earth. Just what these two Trump-weary Americans needed.
(Above) Victoria on the platform at the top of the Tet Paul Trail.
(At left) You don’t often get the chance to look down on a rainbow. But from our perch at the top of the trail, I was able to capture that rare phenomenon.
Wednesday, March 4th
On our third day we went to Sugar Beach — considered the finest beach on the south end of St. Lucia. There are many more beaches, hotels, and resorts on the more developed north end of the island, around the capital city of Castries – but Sugar Beach has bragging rights around Soufriere.
There’s an expensive resort on Sugar Beach, but you don’t have to stay at the resort to enjoy the beach. And while St. Lucia is a volcanic island with black sand beaches, Sugar Beach has imported white sand.
The water was around 84-degrees: a perfect temperature for swimming. Since St. Lucia is on the Caribbean side of the island, the sea is far more calm than the choppier waters on the Atlantic side. The water at Sugar Beach the day we were there was nearly flat. If you’re looking to body surf, this is not the place. But if you want to relax and enjoy a pleasant swim in blue ocean bath water, Sugar Beach is for you.
Anchored just off the beach, bobbing up and down with the gentle waves, was a floating bar serving tropical drinks, manned by a young bartender.
He approached us with this unique and impressive recitation of his beverage menu.
Of course, I ordered a Mai Tai (the best I had on the entire trip) – and carried our drinks back from the floating bar to Victoria as she lounged on the beach in a recliner.
I live to serve my queen.
Lunch at the resort’s grill was delicious. The specialty of the house are their burgers. And what could go better with a hearty, juicy burger than another cool bottle of Piton beer!
Thursday, March 5th
I have to admit that I wasn’t sure whether Victoria and I were ready to climb Gros Piton – the taller of the two Piton Mountains that we’d been looking at across the bay for four days. But, in a supreme act of hubris, I put the climb on our schedule. We’d made daunting climbs in the past in Yosemite and Glacier National Park, so we were determined to make the most of our attempt on Gros Piton.
Before we started our climb, a guide showed us a model of the mountain and pointed out the four stages of the ascent to the summit. Each stage, we were told, was more “strenuous” than the one before. The word “strenuous” would be repeated several times during our climb.
The guide who led us on our ascent was a lovely 38-year-old local woman who climbed over the rocks like a 17-year-old high school gymnast. You had to be able to climb over rocks on Gros Piton because that’s all the trail is most of the time: a series of volcanic rocks stacked at perverse inclines – with more rocks looming overhead! As we reached the first rest stop, ¼ of the way up the trail, we were rewarded with breathtaking views of the Caribbean and the southern coast of St. Lucia. That was enough for Victoria. She stayed behind to enjoy the glorious view and wished me well as I pushed on toward the summit.
My frisky, energetic guide was always several steps ahead of me as I made my way up the trail which became rockier as we climbed. I stopped several times to catch my breath, my body reminding me that the air was getting thinner as we ascended. In many stretches the climb was hand-over-hand up the rocks. I tried to focus on the thrill of reaching the summit — but given the fact that I was already sitting down to take a breather every hundred yards or so, climbing to the top of the mountain would likely take me hours. Once I reached the halfway point, I decided that discretion is the better part of valor. So, I stopped halfway up Gros Piton – and still felt as though I’d accomplished something.
Going back down was actually more difficult. (Those rocks again.) But when Victoria and I got back down to the foot of the mountain there was another shack – and another cold Piton beer as a reward for our effort.
It was no day at the beach, but I’m glad we did it.
Friday, March 6th
This was probably the coolest excursion of them all: a trip to the local volcano.
Locals refer to the Sulphur Springs Volcano as the “drive-in volcano” because you can drive right up to the still-bubbling caldera of this collapsed, dormant volcano. There, a guide takes over to tell you the story of the volcano and point out features on interest within the caldera.
Steam rises from cracks or “vents” in the earth. Boiling black muddy mineral water bubbles up. Our guide assured us that seismologists monitor the geothermal activity in the caldera, and we needn’t fear an eruption. The last eruption was around 1776.
Our guide told us that the nearby Piton Mountains were formed by the volcano – but are not volcanoes themselves. She explained how the volcano draws water from the ocean, heats it up, and sends it flowing back down to the ocean in streams of warm mineral water. It’s all very fascinating. And a bit scary. It’s a bit like a jungle Yellowstone: Mother Nature is roiling just below the surface.
It’s a short distance from the caldera to the mud baths. It was good that we’d gotten there early in the morning, as the crowds had yet to arrive. (The folks at the Green Fig Resort know when a cruise ship is arriving in Soufriere Bay, and they schedule their excursions accordingly so resort patrons can avoid the throngs of day-trippers.)
I’d gotten a bit of a sunburn on my back and the top of my head while swimming at Sugar Beach. It was beginning to bother me. But after wading into the warm mineral water, getting slathered in volcanic mud, then rinsing it off in the mineral water – my sunburn simply disappeared. No redness remained. No pain. Miraculous. Why can’t I get a volcanic mud and mineral bath in Evanston, Illinois?
After toweling off and getting dressed, we took another short drive to the Diamond Botanical Gardens. These amazing acres of stunning flora are still owned by a plantation-era family, who maintain them beautifully. These are just a fraction of the wonderful plants we saw.
At the far end of the Botanical Garden trail is the Diamond Waterfall.
It’s gorgeous, but for safety’s sake, you can’t get too close to it.
We got a LOT closer to another waterfall nearby…
Saturday, March 7th
During the plantation period on St. Lucia, rum and cacao, the key ingredient in chocolate, were among the island’s chief exports. On this day, Victoria and I spent the morning visiting the grounds of another former plantation still in the hands of an old plantation family. You could sense the property’s history looking at the main house, a classic colonial mansion.
Vic and I were there to learn something about how the fruit of the cacao plant becomes cocoa beans – and top it off with a chocolate and rum tasting.
As always on St. Lucia, our guide on the Rum & Chocolate tour was genial and informative in an unforced, welcoming way.
Sunday, March 8th
The whole time we were on St. Lucia, Victoria wished to view the island from the water. So, for the last full day of our trip, we arranged through the resort for a boat to take us along the coast. Our captain, an enterprising local, manned the helm – with his teenage nephew serving as his mate.
For three hours, we sailed up and down the coastline, marveling at the many wonderful beaches that we had no idea existed. The Caribbean waters were calm. Seeing the island from the water was everything Vic had imagined it would be.
Monday, March 9th
On this day, we headed home. Luckily, we flew back to the U.S. a couple of weeks before the government shutdown/ICE mayhem descended on our airports. On St. Lucia, we’d been enjoying an escape from the politics of the day. But even during our blissful island getaway, we were reminded of our ugly American reality.
Take a good look at a map and see where St. Lucia is located. It’s far closer to South America than Cuba. We heard stories from the locals in Soufriere (who have no love for Trump) about three different fishing boats from the island that were blown out of the water by our reckless Department of War.
The locals who told us these stories knew the men who were lost. We were assured that the people on these boats were simply fishermen. Sorry to end on a downbeat note — but it’s important to know the truth about what’s happening in these otherwise peaceful tropical waters. Here’s to the people of St. Lucia!
Paul's Voyage of Discovery & Etc. 