Here’s another guest blog by me mate, Dickie:

One of the best memories I have from my first trip to SVG was climbing Mount Soufriere with my father-in-law and others. Mount Soufriere is an active volcano situated on the north end of Saint Vincent. It stands a little over 4000 feet high and last erupted in 1979. On that occasion there were no casualties, but thousands had to be evacuated and there was extensive damage to property and agricultural land. In 1902 an eruption killed almost 2000 people and prior to that the last time it erupted was 1812.

We were staying at a relative’s house and they also had other relatives staying. It had already been arranged that we would visit Soufriere when these other relatives decided to join us. I have to say they were a funny couple. The wife had a penchant for eating ice; she would take bowls out of my auntie-in-law’s freezer and noisily chomp away on the lumps. It got to the point that auntie was a bit miffed when she looked in the freezer to find no ice. The husband was an abstemious fellow who didn’t smoke or drink. Their son, aged about 13, obviously enjoyed his rice and peas, maybe a little too much, if you get my drift!

The day arrived and off we went in uncle’s truck laden with a few additional relatives and a couple of large steel pots filled with rice and peas and curry for later. Now the roads in Saint Vincent are not what you’d call smooth, but after we crossed the dry river bed at Rabbaca it became like you were sitting on the back of a rather irate bronco. We held on for dear life and eventually arrived at the start of the trail, which was a kind of picnic area. I gladly jumped out of the truck, rubbing my complaining derriere.

So off we went: my father-in-law (with his dodgy ankle), Mr Life & Soul of the Party, Master Dough Ball and me (Mr Smoker, Drinker and general rabble-rouser!). From the picnic area the trail soon goes through fairly thick jungle, which was very hot and humid. Immediately, I was dripping wet with a face that resembled a very ripe tomato. After you are out of the jungle it cools down and the gradient kicks-in with the going getting tougher on the feet due to loose volcanic stones underfoot (good shoes required, which I didn’t have) and the ground becomes more barren. After about an hour and a half my father-in-law and myself arrived at the crater. About fifteen minutes later Mr Life & Soul of the Party arrived closely followed by Master Dough Ball who, at that point, we could have renamed Puffing Billy. I smugly mentioned to my father-in-law, as I dragged on a ciggie and sipped my strong rum, how good it was that he (nearing his 50s at that point) and I (totally unfit) beat a youngster and someone that could beat Mother Theresa in the temperance stakes.

After that climb the stiff cool breeze was very welcome, but in a while I recall thinking I should have brought another layer to put on. I crawled to the rim of the crater to peer in and was a bit disappointed to see a crust of thick vegetation inside the volcano with occasional puffs of steam/smoke, but no obvious activity. Where was all the boiling lather spewing flames and rocks?!! I foolishly thought the term ‘active’ meant it would be a mini Vesuvius. Whilst looking into the crater I noticed on the opposite side a rope ladder descending into it with a few brave (foolish?) souls venturing down. I think someone mentioned to me since then that the crust has now been covered by water and there is a lake inside. On our climb up and descent down we saw few people, but there may have been about a dozen or so at the crater when we arrived and they were mainly locals taking visiting relatives on the trip. As it turned out we sat down and talked with a few guys and ended up enjoying a picnic of shared resources that consisted of corned beef and hot pepper sauce sandwiches, rum and coconut water (one of the best picnics I’ve ever had!!). At that point I had my first insight into the make-up of the people of Saint Vincent. As I sat munching my sandwich a very pronounced West Indian voice asked me where I was from. I turned and came face to face with a white chap. I looked to my left and right to see who had been addressing me, the white man smiled and said “ah reet Mon.” Very confusing to say the least! My father-in-law explained later he was probably from the Dorsetshire Hill area of Kingstown where there are a lot of pale-skinned Vincentians, a result of the white plantation owners, pre-emancipation, having their wicked way with the female servants.

During the impromptu picnic I spotted a figure coming out of the clouds from the higher peak next to the volcano. The figure came closer and closer and walked past us carrying a very large bundle slung over his shoulders. I asked the other picnicees what he was carrying. After they had a laugh at my stupidity, they informed me he had probably slept on the mountain over night, harvested his crop of ganga for the next day and was now about to deliver it for local use or to meet a boat that would take it to who knows where.

After a while it was time to descend. In some ways it was more challenging going down than up, we often resembled figures in a Hanna & Barbera cartoon after marbles have been thrown on the floor, our feet were very unsteady slipping on the small rocks and gravel. In fact the sole from one of my father-in-law’s sneakers came off halfway down making for a rather amusing sight of him seeming to a rain dance willing clouds to appear.

On our arrival back at the picnic area we were greeted with a nice cold beer from the icebox and a plate of chicken curry and rice and peas. Wolfing it down I thought, Edmund Hillary didn’t get this after his little trek! All in all, a great day out.

A few things have changed since my visit. The potholed Windward road is being resurfaced (thank god!), although the rate of progress means Soufriere will probably erupt again before it reaches that far north! Whilst I drive when on Saint Vincent, I would not recommend it because of the roads. That and the fact the local dollar van drivers drive like they’re applying for a job in Formula 1.

If like me you don’t have the benefit to go with relatives I would definitely take a guide, times have changed - a woman and her two daughters were raped by a gang of men in 2006 after they stayed behind alone on the trail and their husband and brother went ahead up the mountain with the guide. I don’t mean to alarm and hasten to add this was very much a one-off, but it is worth mentioning. There are drivers who would be more than happy to take you there and accompany you up the volcano.

As I said it was a memorable day out and one that my feet and leg muscles remembered for many a day afterwards.