Garibaldi Hill

Once back in the car we continued our drive on up to Garibaldi Hill, where we were promised a birds eye view of the previous town of Plymouth below on one side, lush green mountains of the central hills falling away to the coast on the other, and a perfect panorama of the Caribbean sea with views to Redondo and Nevis to the west.
The drive up the hill was an adventure all by itself. The road was not so much a road more the remnants of a road. George's little car tipped and struggled over boulders and rocks, dips and craters in the side of the hill as it made its way precariously on up. Then, as if the road alone wasn't enough excitement we came across a humongous sleeping bull that was sporting the largest pair of horns I have ever seen, right there in the middle of our path. George carefully maneuvered the car past the sleeping giant, and my eyes almost popped straight out of my head when I glimpsed the shear drop beneath us as we passed.
I have to say I was more than a little nervous, but Edi and Bob appeared unconcerned, or maybe it's a guy thing, you know, don't show fear, anyway I was terrified. Bob and Edi actually appeared to be enjoying the drive up the hill. As we climbed higher we could clearly see the trails of the rivers of ash that had flowed from the top of the volcano down to the ocean below. One can only imagine the horror. When the first eruption occurred in August 1995, the defenseless town of Plymouth was thrown into total darkness for a full 15 minutes as the thick cloud of ash hovered above it. Standing there on top of the hill looking down on the remnants of town beneath us, it was a sight I will not easily forget.
George gave us time to look around and take photos before returning to the car and starting our decent. I have to say I wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of the drive down the side of the hill, the drive up had aged me 10 years.
As I predicted the drive down was a real heart stopper for me, as George took off at speed. Bob caught sight of my terrified expression in the mirror and asked George if he would slow down for us to take photos, when he was really just trying to prevent the coronary that was threatening to occur right there in the back seat.
Visions of our little car bouncing off a boulder and taking flight over the cliff edge, with all of us inside screaming like banshees as we plunged to our deaths in the sea of ash below were vivid in my mind. I think I may have actually bruised Edi's arm with my vice like grip on the way down. After 10 of the longest minutes in my life we arrived safely at the foot of the hill, miracles do happen!
For information on Monsterrat go to www.visitmontserrat.com and for the current alert level for the volcano go to www.mvo.com

Nevis to Montserrat

Tuesday 10th June
We completed the crossing from Nevis to Montserrat in just 5 hours, at a comfortable 9 knots with a great 15 - 18 knots of Easterly wind. We dropped anchor in Little Bay at 12:30 and took the dinghy ashore to check in.
At the customs office we met a South African couple off a catamaran that we seem to have followed for the last few days, they're also making their way down to Grenada with their daughter Nadia. Once we had cleared customs we set off for an island tour with George, a local taxi driver. We headed south out through the villages of Davy Hill, Brades,and Cudoehead, to Salem in the south, turning inland we made our way up to the MVO (Montserrat Volcano Observatory). There's basically only one main road running from the North, down each side of the island West coast and East coast. The roads in northern Montserrat wiggle, climb and plunge, seemingly designed for an athlete, a bicycle would be totally redundant here.
During our drive we stopped several times to take photographs and pick mango's, filling a whole bag with them. Following the Soufriere Hills volcanic eruption in 1995, Brades which was once the least populated part of the island has become the hub of the island. George pointed out where they are building the new capital. Throughout Montserrat there is evidence of dislocation and deprivation, but at he same time positive change and development. Despite the enormous catastrophe suffered by these people they remain upbeat, warm, friendly, and optimistic for a better future. While many of the islands major attractions were destroyed in the eruption, the southern end of the island remains an exclusion zone.
We arrived at MVO in time for the 3:15 video showing. We sat in awe as we watched the horror of the eruption, a vivid reminder of the true destructive force of Mother nature. The video showed Plymouth, the previous capital, once a beautiful town, pastel pretty with gingerbread houses in the Caribbean vernacular style, that today lies in ruins under a deep sea of ash. As we left the observatory we took photos of the smoking volcano, which now appeared much too close for comfort. As we continued on around the island George stopped so we could drink from the fountain at Runaway Ghaut. The water that flows from the mountain stream is some of the best in the Caribbean, and legend says that if you drink from the fountain you will revisit Monsterrat again and again. Edi and I drank from the fountain, but Bob couldn't be persuaded. As we continued our drive out through the exclusion zone George reported that the volcano was currently at low activity, and as there was no rain forecast (rain causes huge slimy rivers of ash creating treacherous conditions)we were allowed to enter. We drove slowly through one of the low laying areas that had been devastated during the eruption. George stopped the car for us to get out and walk around. As we walked through the ruins of a previously beautiful golf course that had fallen victim to the volcanic devastation it was difficult to comprehend the reality of the tragedy that had occurred there. Rooftops of houses poked through the ash wherever you looked, stumps of dead trees, boulders and rocks the size of houses covered the terrain. It was a totally dead zone, it looked like the surface of the moon, or at least how I would imagine the moon would look. The only activity came from the occasional clouds of ash rising from gusts of wind. Edi and I climbed through a second story window of one of the houses buried in ash. Dust covered books still stood on shelves, broken pieces of furniture lay scattered around covered in ash, remnants of a previous life. It was eerie, and very sad, once again a humbling reminder of Mother nature's power over years of human endeavor. I took a photograph of George as he stood on one of the rooftops, then we all got back in the car covered in ash, to continue our drive.