Jill Robinson

Writer, Photographer, Adventurer

Caribbean

Hiking to the Boiling Lake in Dominica

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Approaching the Valley of Desolation

I’d only been in Dominica for one day, but when I shared my ambitious hiking itinerary for my short stay on the island, a local woman looked me over, knit her brows, and expressed concern for me and my athletic goals.

“You’re going to the Boiling Lake? You don’t look like a tomboy. Are you sure you can do it?” she asked.

Perhaps it was my fault for discussing one of the hardest hikes on the island while standing around in my bikini. I was aware the Boiling Lake hike wouldn’t be an easy stroll, but I was determined to get there.

Many know the Caribbean island of Dominica as the “Nature Island” due to its volcanic peaks, lush rainforest, clear waterfalls, abundance of rivers, and even boiling waters. It’s not your typical Caribbean island, where hordes of visitors are content to lounge on the beach all day, interrupted only by occasional bar service. Here, hikers and divers abound, and the Boiling Lake hike is the peak adventure for many of them.

A six-hour round trip over challenging terrain, this hike in the Morne Trois Pitons National Park ranks as one of Dominica’s most demanding trails. The first hour of the trail traced through rain forest and rose gradually from 1,690 feet to 2,260 feet before it dropped toward the Trois Pitons River, called the “Breakfast River” because it’s the often the first stop for a snack. Because the sky was gray and it had already begun to rain lightly, my guide Zahir and I continued without stopping at the river.

Next, the path followed a ridge as it moved from rain forest to montane forest. At 3,160 feet was a lookout with views across the Morne Trois Pitons National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Mist was descending along the trail, so I saw only pieces of the emerald peaks, until they were shrouded in fog.

The trail then dipped down into the Valley of Desolation. Volcanic activity in Dominica has changed this once-forested area to a strange rocky landscape of gray and gold, punctuated by grasses, mosses, and lichens. Silvery streams of varying temperatures meander through the area. I took turns dipping my muddy feet into a warm stream, then a cool one. Just a few feet away, bubbling sounds suggested I could try an even hotter water source, but it wouldn’t be a smart choice.

A flooded fumarole, the Boiling Lake appeared at the end of the trail like a cauldron of bubbling gray-blue water enveloped in a veil of vapor, until a breeze came along to blow the cloud away. Groups of hikers stopped and posed for photos. Others found seats so they could enjoy lunch before heading back for three hours on the return trip. Zahir took a photo of me, volcanic clay smeared on my face, as I stood in front of the bubbling lake. I needed evidence for my concerned Dominican friend.

A Sucker for the Right Celebrity

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I blame my years working in performing arts on my lack of excitement about running into celebrities on my travels. I was thrilled to meet some of my heroes, but otherwise, working with famous artists was part of my job. So when I’m somewhere and I’m told that the latest superstar is “just over there, walking this way” I’m not likely to go running after them.

Sure, there are a handful of people that I’d definitely love to meet. I was skeptical when Doug called me from Guanaja last April and asked, “Do you want to have lunch with Jimmy Carter when you’re here?” The former president is definitely on that list. I once considered going to Plains, Georgia, to stay at the B&B he and his wife have—just so I’d have a chance to shoot the breeze with him. But with my luck, he’d be out of town, building a house or monitoring an election.

Carter really did show up on Guanaja, with some fishing buddies, Rosalynn and a bunch of Secret Service agents. Even though a couple of his friends stopped by the dock of the home where we stayed, the former president didn’t—so the jerk chicken we prepared in advance became our dinner. Whenever we saw three boats speeding together inside the reef, we knew he was on one of them. But we didn’t go looking. If we were going to see him, it just had to happen.

And it did. One morning, after we finished breakfast in Mangrove Bight, we walked toward the water. The road was clogged with people. In the inlet were those three boats, and I could see both Carters on the low-profile fly-fishing boat. We joined the crowd, watching them fish, until they took off—likely for a quieter spot. It lasted less than an hour. I may not have had lunch with him, shook his hand, or chatted about the state of the world, but I was happy.

Check out my article for the San Francisco Chronicle Travel section about the Carter visit to Guanaja for more details.

Staring out the Airplane Window

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Getting a good view out the airplane window is a lot easier the lower the plane flies. Now hang on, I’m not talking accident levels. I’m referring to those wonderful times when I’m in a little airplane and due to the topography and lack of other plane traffic, we don’t have to travel way up in the clouds.

That happens nearly every time I’m flying between Roatán and Guanaja, in a tiny four-seat plane that barely fits the pilot, Doug, me and the luggage. In fact, parked next to the gigantic Continental jet we take on our flights from the United States, the little plane looks like it belongs at an airport for dolls. While it’s always the same route when I travel to Guanaja from Roatán (and the return trip), I’ve seen the reef from above, remote island communities, waterspouts and the most amazing rainbow.

I’m glad I don’t have to participate in the flying process once we take off, because my head is always against the window, taking the journey in through my eyes.

My Favorite Sign on Guanaja

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I noticed this sign a couple of years ago at Zapata’s Store on the Cay. While it’s not the worst misspelling I’ve seen, it makes me laugh every time I see it. I know they intended for it to say customers and not costumers, but I can’t help imagining a boat full of people in costume pulling up in front of the store.

Of course, the day something like that actually happens, I probably won’t be surprised. Weird things—better than I could make up—happen here. Over the years, I find myself shrugging and saying, “Of course.”

Sampling Beer on Guanaja

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In Honduras, often the best choice for happy hour is rum or beer. That doesn’t pose a problem for me, since I like both perfectly well. But cerveza drinkers on Guanaja have a few options, so let’s review them:

Salva Vida. Perhaps one of the best-named beers, salva vida means “lifesaver” in Spanish, and if you don’t remember that, you’ll be reminded by the lifesaver image on the brown bottle’s label. It’s a perfectly fine lager, perhaps nothing to write home about, but it’s one of my two favorite beers I find on the island.

Imperial. Another lager, this beer with the eagle label is more available on the mainland (especially in Tegucigalpa) than on Guanaja. But when I find it on the island, I’ll often have one.

Port Royal. For fans of pilsner beers, this is your go-to on Guanaja. It’s named after a town on Roatán that was once the site of Engligh pirate camps. Port Royal and Salva Vida are the most popular cervezas to choose here.

Barena. Akin to Corona, it’s in a clear bottle with a palm tree label and has a light flavor. On the hottest days, this is my first choice.

When a beer is served in the bottle in bars and restaurants, it will have a small napkin wrapped around the neck. If you’re in the islands, use the napkin to wipe off the mouth of the bottle before you take your first drink. Since most bottled beverages come over from the mainland on boats, there will often be a rusty residue on the mouth of the bottle from the bottle cap.

At our friends’ house on Guanaja, there are a few koozies to keep the beers cold. My favorite one, and the one I grab every time, has this printed on its side: “I thought I wanted a career. Turns out I just wanted the paychecks.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.