Batons & Treetops

Once again we were perfectly located for national festivities. Although Independence day is not until the 22nd of February, the Baton has to travel by foot all around the Island… rather like the Olympic torch …. and today was Laborie’s turn. We woke up to flags on every building …. bunting across the high street … a special sports day for the girl’s school below us … all dressed in their house colours of red, yellow and green shorts and white shirts. People had been gathering since mid morning … bringing their folding chairs, claiming spots in the shade.

At 2:00 music and loudspeakers began … a small grandstand was erected for mayor and officials … a tv crew showed up and we (who could see and hear all this from our balcony) headed down to join in. A veritable sea of turquoise, yellow, black and white greeted us … everyone had flags … in their hair … in their hands … on t-shirts … flying from poles. Old and young celebrating 46 years of independence, and we were warmly included.

The mayor of Laborie formally handed over the baton to St. Vincent de Paul, an organization important to the community – the young man who would be carrying it on to the next location stood solemnly in front of the crowd and cameras. The volume increased. Schoolchildren of every age lined the streets — coloured ribbons in their hair – flags waving madly … everyone danced, sang and clapped. It was joyous, deafening and completely delightful … and we felt honoured to take part.

Once it was over, the crowds dispersed and children returned to school for the remainder of classes. On the way back up the hill, one little girl – Raquelle – grabbed my hand and chattered away like a long lost friend about the parade, and dolls, and Canada … until we departed at the school gates. What a wonderful afternoon.

It’s typical to have heavy rain overnight and first thing in the morning – usually skies start to clear by 8 and people go about their day. Wednesday morning looked pretty glum though … strong winds battering the coconut palms out front and such a deluge one could barely see the garden let alone the bay. Not ideal for zip-lining! But, true to form, by 8:30 it was brightening to the east and by 9:00 the sun was out. Bus connections were good … we sat waiting for the Castries bus to fill up and watched a long line of chattering teenage students with police escort (guy on a quad bike) marching to independence park to practice before the big day. Another Stirling Moss wannabe had us at the Dennery Bus shelter a good 40 minutes ahead of schedule , but we happily whiled away the time observing the world go about its business. When we arrived a lady was busily sweeping out the shelter … handbag hooked on a handy nail and water bottle close by …. chattering to us and passersby in Creole. We wished her “Bonjou“. St. Lucian Kweyol is very close to Haitian and definitely French based. dlo for water; souple for please; sitwon for lime; mesi for thank you; wee for yes; Konmen pou sa? how much is it?; Mwen Byen – I’m fine.

We watched in fascination the constant stream of people going past … workers with wheelbarrows … school kids … shoppers with empty bags one way, full coming back … a bicycle with bunches of bananas being delivered … office workers in smart clothes … a guy on a bike with a dark, floppy hat and a machete in in his hand! One man at the bus stop was taking a truck part in to be fixed (he and Glen had a discussion about old Mazda trucks) … another man joined in, setting down a heavy bag of groceries and a brand new saw. He got on the bus but left his saw behind. “Not to worry” said the first man … “I know him”, but then a cheeky grin crossed his face as he intimated that maybe HE would forget about the saw, and keep it himself. Minutes later the first man returned via another bus and rushed to reclaim his saw with much backslapping and laughter. There was so much going on, it was 11 o’clock before we realized it and our ride to the zip line had arrived.

Hazan, the park manager, driving a brand new truck … still with plastic on the headrests … slowly navigated the road. ‘Road’ was perhaps something of a misnomer … there were far more potholes than tarmac, but the scenery was gloriously jungley. A tumbling stream, turned muddy from the rain, long, hanging vines, banana plants, vivid pink shrubs, giant, almost prehistoric tree ferns, and enormous stands of bamboo you could build a house from.

We were the first to arrive at the reception centre … a large, thatched affair … open to the surroundings and incorporating a large tree in its midst. There had to be at least half a dozen resident dogs lounging about, looking hopefully at each new arrival in case tidbits might miraculously appear. We signed our lives away on the waiver forms <grin> (this place has the most amazing health and safety protocols — there’s a double cable system plus extra security line for rope bridges, etc.). There were 6 of us … a young couple from Liverpool, another couple from Texas, and we two.

Bernard and his partner were to be our guides … personable, friendly, professional … plus a fine, deadpan humour. We were individually fitted with harnesses and helmets … relieved of our phones (Bernard would film and photo us throughout) … and proceeded up the stairs to the first of 12 zip lines … more of a ‘get comfortable’ run. One guide zooming ahead to supervise our arrival, while the other clipped and un-clipped us from the wires … the only thing we were entrusted with was to attach our safety lines when crossing the rope bridges. Correct method for sitting … feet crossed … one hand on the harness, the other encircling the cable behind to slow one’s progress (if necessary) never in front … and one at a time, we were off. Each line getting higher, longer, faster … zipping past lush undergrowth … over ravines and streams … and eventually over the tree canopy itself. Lots of climbing and suspended rope bridges between lines, but there were water stations along the way, and one could rest on the platforms and chat while waiting for the others to catch up. It was immense fun, and not in the least scary … even at 30 mph and 150 feet off the ground!

There were snacks, fruit and juices afterwards …. a chance to view the amazing videos and photos the guides took … and a comfortable ride back to town with Hazan. Absolutely no question … we’d do it again in a heartbeat.