On Sunday, we took a giant, somewhat miscalculated walkabout to the backside of nowhere. It was pretty great.
Since we had a whole day with no other agenda, we schemed some kind of exploration to take us beyond what we’ve already seen. Hog Island seemed like a cool destination. It’s a small, undeveloped island reachable mostly by boat—if you have a boat—but also reachable by walking through Mt. Hartman National Forest, sanctuary of the critically endangered Grenada dove. Say no more.
We figured a bus could get us pretty close to Mt. Hartman, and we’d enjoy getting out of the city for a hike. We just didn’t estimate distances very well. We hopped off the bus and still had some walking before turning off at the Dove Sanctuary sign. As the road led out of town, the ratio of sheep to houses increased. The most common sheep we’re seeing here is the goat-looking Barbados Blackbelly sheep, an African-origin hair sheep (no wool) bred to survive heat, humidity, and parasites. Small fields of pigeon peas had scarecrows that looked like they might be outgrown school uniform shirts. There was an occasional cow. And dogs. Always dogs.
To Stella’s delight, the road was surfaced with pumice-y volcanic rocks. Soon, there were mostly trees lining the road. Even Andrew didn’t know the names of these trees, but some looked like they might grow bananas or papayas and many had fronds of tiny leaves and seed pods, sized from finger length to arm length.
We did not see any doves, which isn’t too surprising since there are only like 140 of them left in the world. The Grenada dove (Leptotila wellsi) is the National Bird of Grenada. They are, apparently, kind of chunky for a dove and, in my opinion, lovely. A thin black circle lines their eyes and they have white underside, light tan head and neck, with dark taupe wings and back. You can take a look at them and check out conservation efforts.
At some point—when the road tapered to a trail—we recalibrated. Hog Island was still a distance away, and while it sounded neat, the only way home after enjoying it would be retracing our steps. We veered right to follow the actual road, heading towards the peninsula of Lance aux Epines. This route took us through some seriously scrubby area, then an industrial area where a security guy eyeballed us—probably wondering how these tourists can get themselves so lost. After a turn through a narrow, woodsy stretch, we popped out by the immaculate Secret Harbour Boutique Hotel & Marina. Again and always, I am fascinated by the juxtaposition of things.
This slice of Grenada—Lance aux Epines—features many rental homes for vacationers and university folks and, as such, has a different vibe than our neighborhood. We wove our way up past some mansion-like houses perched in viewsy locations, then down past white people walking dogs on leashes and students waiting for the St. George’s University bus. With a bit of direction, we found the public access to Lance au Epines beach and sat in the shade of a palm for peanut butter sandwiches and mangoes.
Swimming refreshed us, then we brushed off the sand, reapplied socks and sneakers, and zigzagged back to the main road to catch a #1 bus back home. It was Sunday, so most of the buses were having a rest day. A guy driving a bus marked #1, which was not running as a #1 bus that day, stopped anyway because he saw us looking like we were stuck needing a bus. He only runs as a #1 sometimes because most of his business is as a taxi for university people, which pays better. Anyway, after four miles of walking, we were grateful for the lift home, where we all had a siesta.
We have not given up on the idea of walking to Hog Island, or on seeing Grenada doves. At some point, we’ll give it another try.
