Then, after more blue water, an island appeared on the horizon and I caught my breath.
I can only imagine how it might have looked to Christopher Columbus under a full moon back in the day when the world was new, but today, in the morning sunshine, it looked truly magnificent with its volcano standing tall through a swirl of mist and with a dense green forest at its base. Our plane circled the island before making its final approach onto a small airstrip.
When the plane came to a full stop, Captain Edward flicked switches with a flourish and pulled on levers to power down the plane. ‘Welcome to Luminaire. Please remain seated until the doors are open.’ But a second later Tom was out. He’d grabbed the emergency door handle and practically thrown himself out of the plane and onto the hot dusty ground.
Meanwhile, I had to wait until I was helped from my seat and hauled out feet first.
Once we were outside, the first thing that struck me was the awful smell.
The hot humid air being blown across my face was infused with the smell of rotten eggs.
‘Phew, that really stinks!’ I remarked. ‘No wonder this place is uninhabited.’
‘Yep, but it’s surprising how soon you adapt and get used to it.’ Tom warned me. ‘A couple of hours and your senses will be dulled and then you just won’t be able to smell it anymore.’
I held my nose and doubted that very much.
We pleaded with Captain Edward not to forget to return for us.
‘I’ll be here at 6p.m. tomorrow. But, if you are not here, I won’t wait!’ He warned.
‘We will be here. Just please don’t forget us.’ We begged.
Just to be sure he did remember us, I plied him with the promise of a generous Christmas tip when he came back and then I kissed him a fond farewell on both cheeks. Both Tom and I, in dread of desertion over the holidays, then made a great fuss of watching him leave and waving him off, knowing that we were alone on this island for two days now no matter what.
Loaded up with our heavy backpacks and an assortment of camping gear and other necessities, Tom and I set off walking inland along a narrow grassy path through a forest of tall bamboo. I had a kettle and a frying pan tied to my pack that clanked together as I walked making me sound like a rather annoying one-man band. Tom walked with his two butterfly nets waving in the air like he was making a distress call and he carried his separate pack too containing all the special plastic boxes we would need to use to transport our precious cargo of collected caterpillars. As I walked, I was acutely aware that there was no one other than us on this island. The only sound I could hear was a warm breeze whistling through the bamboo canes. It sounded eerie. Like unseen people whispering: ‘watch out – we see you – watch out.’
If Josh and Lucas knew I was here, then I’m sure they’d be sending in the marines.
If Ethan knew the full extent of what I was doing here, then goodness knows how he’d react.
The route, which we hoped would bring us out at the start of segment three, seemed to have been carved out of the bamboo by a staggering drunk armed with a machete. I was in the lead position and the tall canes on either side of us made it impossible to see very far ahead.
Occasionally and confusingly, the trail opened and went off in many other directions.
Tom said these narrow diversions could have been made by animals.
I wondered what kind of animals. Gorillas, lions, tigers, giant snakes?
Tom suggested monkeys, armadillos, racoons, large iguana, or wild pigs.
I kept referring to my map to get my bearings and as bamboo forest became rainforest terrain, not for the first time did I start to have very real doubts about whether this crazy plan of mine was actually a good idea after all. Here we were, on an island, just the two of us, intending to be here overnight without anywhere to stay or without any bathroom facilities.
The thought of the latter stopped me dead in my tracks.
No shower or flushing toilet—for one night and two days!?
‘I’ve just realised something!’ I said to Tom, stopping so suddenly that he bumped into me. ‘We have no contact with the outside world here. There’s no internet. No cell phone service. What if something happens to either of us? Like an emergency? How on earth will we get help?’ My voice was so high and so shrill, it caused a commotion amongst a flock of nearby birds who all took off at once, causing me to immediately dive for cover into a big prickly bush.
Tom replied. ‘Well, I have a radio. I guess we could use the emergency frequency.’
‘Really? A radio. Oh, that’s okay, then. Good job!’
I wondered why I hadn’t thought to bring a radio.
Maybe it’s because normally I’d always left that kind of thing to Ethan?
I carried on walking, checking the map and guide that I’d downloaded onto my phone.
‘I just realised something else.’ I said to Tom in an equal panic. ‘I have both the map and the guide on my phone, but we are going to be here for two days and the battery on my phone only lasts for half that time. What will we do? There are no electricity or recharge points!’
‘I have a solar powered charger and a USB cable. So, we’re fine.’
‘But what about at night? When it’s dark? Did we remember to bring torches?’
‘Lori, haven’t you ever been camping before?’ Tom asked me in all seriousness.
‘No. Never. The closest I’ve come to it is staying in a wooden hut on a beach.’
‘Well, that sounds a bit like camping, I suppose.’ Tom noted with a shrug.
‘Not at all. I had an en-suite bathroom and an electricity generator.’ I admitted in dismay.
We’d only managed to hike for an hour or so and the stink of rotten eggs in the air was starting to make me feel rather queasy. My backpack seemed to be getting heavier and heavier.
I didn’t like to complain (and I was determined that I wouldn’t) but my new boots were already rubbing on my heel. I really wished I was still wearing my lovely new and comfy flip-flops instead. When we came into a rocky clearing, I was so glad to stop and rest, because my back was bent over and aching to compensate for my heavy load and my shoulder muscles were silently screaming with pain. I plopped myself down on a rock and immediately disturbed a small black scorpion. It jumped onto my foot and ran across my boot and then made off to hide under an adjacent rock. I was glad not to be wearing my flip-flops, after all.
‘Okay, so this is where we join the trail at Segment Three.’ Tom informed me. ‘It’s a good five-hour hike to the plateau, where we’ll find the sulphur springs and the hot spa pool.’
‘Oh, yes. That’s sounds truly wonderful!’ I breathed. ‘Let’s camp there tonight!’
No doubt, after today’s endeavours in searching for our butterfly and all the resulting aches and pains and blisters we are sure to suffer along the way, I really fancied putting up my tent and then spending some time wallowing about in skin rejuvenating mud. I then imagined myself floating in a cleansing therapeutic spa pool afterwards. It would be even better than the natural spa on St Lucia and so worth an exhausting five-hour hike.
But Tom didn’t agree. ‘Actually, the sulphur springs here are unlike those on St Lucia. Here they are simply cracks in the earth’s crust that allows steam and toxic fumes to escape. Plus, the spa pool is not for swimming. It’s actually called The Boiling Pool because it’s full of bubbling sulphuric acid.’
I bit down onto my lower lip and held onto my already aching disappointment.
‘Then where do you suggest we camp tonight?’ I asked him.
‘We should camp in the rainforest. It’ll be far safer there.’ Tom suggested.
‘But there might be snakes and spiders!’ I objected. ‘Rainforest is the same as jungle!’
‘Yes. I expect you’re right. But we’ll light a fire and that might warn them off.’ Tom replied casually, as he set off to follow the path ahead, now that it was his turn to take the lead.
I tried to keep my mind on
the positive and my eyes focussed on looking for butterflies as we made our way through the rainforest, which wasn’t easy as the ground was slippery and riddled with tree roots and vines. I actually fell over a couple of times. The landing was soft, but it was really hard to get back to my feet again with my bulky backpack on, so I rolled about in the mud much like a hermit crab in an ill-fitting shell, while Tom marched ahead.
If Ethan had been here, he would have stopped and helped me to my feet.
If Ethan had been here, he would have insisted on carrying half my heavy stuff.
If Ethan had been here, he would have held my hand and escorted me along the way.
We eventually stopped in another clearing and rested for a while. Tom got out his little gas camping stove and his coffee pot and brewed a ridiculously strong expresso coffee that he served to me with a chunk of cake. He said the sugary cake and the caffeine would help to boost my flagging energy levels. I suppose that at least he’d noticed I was flagging.
We soon set off again, now like giant tortoises lumbering along with our shells on our backs.
Along the way, we spotted several different types of butterflies fluttering about but they were all small yellow ones. Nonetheless, it was very exciting to see butterflies here. I listened carefully as Tom identified them all and informed me of their common and Latin names.
‘Let’s hope we can find the Green Morpho very soon!’ I said to him optimistically.
‘Yes. I hope so too. If only for identification purposes. Lori, you should remember that our prime objective here on this island is not to collect butterflies, as they are far too fragile to transport. Instead, we must focus our search on finding the Green Morpho caterpillars. The best way to do that is to look out for and find the one and only flowering plant that our fussy Green Morpho caterpillar chooses as its food source –and that’s Clitoria Ternatea – the Butterfly Pea.’
‘Ah, yes. Because where you find IT you will surely find THEM!’ I recalled him saying.
Chapter 13
As we walked, I remarked to Tom on how the strong sulphurous smell had disappeared again. Interestingly, he said that it was actually still here, but we’d simply adapted to it as these levels of concentration. We were now deep into the tropical rainforest. It was dense and dark and surprisingly noisy, as all around us, up in the trees, behind the trees, in the bushes, were ominous grunts and screeches and high-pitched calls. We trudged slowly along what was supposed to be an established trail in this segment, but some parts of it were so overgrown that it was hard to know which way was right or wrong.
When we were unsure Tom took out a compass and double checked our heading.
Eventually, we could tell that we were getting closer to the sulphur springs, because the smell of rotten eggs had returned and the air once again had become heavy and pungent.
Tom rummaged through his backpack and produced two cloth facemasks for us to wear.
‘The sulphurous air here is not dangerous, but these might help, if the smell bothers you.’
We plodded on, but I could still smell and taste the sulphur in the air and on my tongue.
Then we came to a place where the map showed a definite two-way split in the route.
We consulted the map on my phone. It showed there was a choice of going steeply uphill to the bubbling volcanic activity on the plateaux or to carry further on along a level heading through the rainforest and to the last third of the segment.
‘I say we carry on.’ Tom said staunchly.
But, for the last hour or so, I’d been racked with sharp stomach pains and I was suddenly desperate for a bit of privacy. I could feel a surge of volcanic activity happening deep in my belly and I suspected it might have been caused by the really strong coffee I’d drank earlier.
I squirmed as my insides bubbled and groaned and I really needed to go.
But where do I go? It’s not like there are any rest rooms here?
‘Tom, I really want to see the bubbling pool. I think it’ll be very interesting.’ I said with some urgency. ‘Why don’t you wait here while I just go and get a quick photo?’
‘That’s not a good idea, Lori. The air there is toxic and the crater is weak.’
I squirmed again and was just far too embarrassed to admit what was going on.
‘No. I absolutely insist. I’ll be quick. I really want to see that crater for myself.’
‘But it’s incredibly dangerous. Last year, a guide lost his life when he fell through the crust into the boiling mud. We really should keep going. If we increase our pace, we can set up our camp and get a fire going before it goes dark. I don’t know about you but I’m starving.’
‘Then you go on ahead. I’ll catch up.’ I said, crossing my legs at the crossroads.
Tom turned to me in frustration. ‘I really don’t advise it.’
I stamped my foot in pain with flatulence but realised it looks like utter petulance.
‘Buddha says ‘to travel is a better thing than to arrive’ so I want to see those sulphur springs!’
Tom raked his hair in exasperation. ‘That wasn’t Buddha. It was Robert Louis Stevenson!’
‘Really? Are you sure?’
‘Yes. If you are going to quote Buddha, you could at least get it right.’
I bit down on my lower lip again as another wave of cramp hit me right in the guts.
‘Then go!’ He said dramatically, waving a dismissive arm in the air and then removing his backpack and taking out his drinking water bottle. ‘I’ll wait here. If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’ll know you’ve become unconscious from breathing CO2 gasses, and I’ll have to endanger my own life to come and rescue you!’
I ran along the uphill path, huffing and puffing and sweating and wishing that I’d at least had the good sense to leave my backpack with him. I was feeling compelled to rush, not only because I feared having an embarrassing accident, but also because he’d only given me ten minutes to relieve myself before he was coming up here to find me.
When I eventually got to the ridge at the top of the hill, I stopped to catch my breath in the smelly air and to find a safe spot to stoop. Ahead of me lay a huge flat area of ground that was pocked with hollow craters and pools of bubbling yellow mud. It looked like the surface of the moon. I spotted a small raised ridge that might provide me a bit of added privacy and I headed over there quickly while discarding my backpack and whipping down my trousers.
As I stooped, I looked across to the middle of the crater and saw what had to be the infamous ‘boiling pool’ – a steaming and burping and blisteringly hot mud pool – certainly not anything like spa facilities. This place was more like Jurassic Park than any Caribbean island I’d ever known. All around were craters and jagged cracks in the ground with steam escaping from them. Having now seen this place for myself, I’d started to believe Tom’s account about the place being unstable – it looked like the volcano could erupt at any time – and I could imagine how a man could easily fall through this fragile crust to his death. It all looked entirely possible and very scary indeed. I quickly tidied myself up and tip-toed as close as I dared to the boiling pool to get a photo. Then I turned around and held my phone in the air to get a selfie with the bubbling crater in the background – thinking my boys would be impressed and intrigued by this lunar-esq landscape – when I heard a noise behind me coming from a nearby crater just a few steps away. It sounded like a squeal and then a whimper. It sounded like the cry of a child.
I tucked my phone away and went to investigate. What I actually found in there was a monkey. It was lying on its back at the bottom of the crater and it was a pitiful sight. It was hard to know how long it had been in there. I look down and all around and wondered how it might have become trapped? It whimpered again in a plea for help when it saw me standing there. ‘Come on Monkey. Get up. Climb out.’ I told it in an encouraging tone.
But it just lay there, limp and lethargic, with sad wide eyes, and in a crater only about four feet deep. No
t too deep or too hard for a monkey to climb out and to escape from. Maybe it was in shock or simply too afraid to help itself? But I could hardly go away and leave it there.
I was going to have to go in there and get the poor creature out myself.
I decided to test the strength of the bottom of the crater first to see if it would hold my weight. I dropped in a heavy stone, not too close to the monkey obviously, who had started whimpering again. It seemed to be solid enough down there, so I climbed in and slid towards the little chap. He looked at me with such grateful eyes and so I bent down to lift him gently into my arms and to cradle him securely like a baby. I murmured soothing sounds to him about how I was going to get him out and make him better. And, I was just about to stand up and start to make my way back when I suddenly felt really dizzy. Then everything went totally black.
When I woke up sometime later, I saw Tom’s face full of concern.
‘Lori, can you hear me?’
‘Monkey?’ I groaned.
Tom was shouting now. ‘Yes. I have the damned monkey. What on earth possessed you to do that alone?’ His voice was full of panic and disbelief. ‘When you didn’t come back after twenty minutes, I came to look for you. I found you unconscious and holding onto a monkey in the bottom of a crater!’
‘What happened to you giving me just ten minutes?’ I asked him in a croaky dry voice, while trying to sit up. ‘Ouch, I have a pounding headache. What happened?’
‘The craters up there are filled with toxic gasses that are heavier than air and seep through the ground and accumulate inside the bowl. You could have died!’
‘Oh my goodness. You did warn me about toxic gas. I thought you were exaggerating.’
When I saw that Tom had saved the little monkey too I was most relieved.
But Tom was clearly angry and disappointed with me and who could blame him?
‘Here, drink some water and take a painkiller. We need to keep going.’
After a reasonably short time, I recovered, and we set off again. Tom said we were now well behind schedule and so he kept up a hasty pace and remained uncommunicative as we hiked.
The Next Adventure Page 17
