A cycle of beauty in lush St. Lucia

By land and by sea, this Caribbean gem offers outdoor diversions aplenty. Hop on a mountain bike and let the exploration and adventure begin.

By John Henderson, special to the Times
Published September 16, 2007

Bicyclists can ride over waterfalls or stop and cool off in them as they traverse the 12 miles of bike paths that meander through a 500-acre region of St. Lucia.
	[St. Lucia Jungle Biking]

ADVERTISEMENT [St. Lucia Jungle Biking] If you’d like a break from such water-centric excursions as snorkeling and kayaking, saddle up and take a journey through St. Lucia’s jungle by bike. Keep a lookout for the Amazona Versicolor, the national bird, and other creatures.

I've traveled a lot through the Caribbean, and what I see when our boat pulls up near the shore here translates to a dozen other islands. Gorgeous, golden sand beach on a half-moon bay surrounded by palm trees and dotted with comfy lounge chairs.

Find a postcard and fill in a name.

But the scene on St. Lucia has a twist I have not seen anywhere in the Caribbean. Behind the ring of palm trees sits a wooden shack where a St. Lucian man greets me wearing a blue and yellow Lycra shirt and black shorts. It's not the attire usually associated with snorkeling or kayaking. Forget sunbathing.

He leads four of us into thick jungle. A chorus of blue herons, bullfinches and blackbirds fills the air. Either I am headed on a wilderness hike or an anaconda hunt. Instead, standing in the massive shade from the jungle's near rooflike canopy, he pulls out a bicycle.

Welcome to jungle biking, Caribbean-style.

I tried mountain biking once. Once. I did a hair-raising descent of the New Zealand Olympic Team's training course, a journey that left my joints nearly as frayed as my nerves. I want to give it another try, and figure jungle biking is tame enough for beginners like myself, not to mention a quirky off-the-beaten-jungle-path option during a Caribbean holiday.

I got off the beaten path, all right. But tame? Let's put it this way: One look at what remained of the swimsuit I mistakenly wore tells you this was no leisurely bike ride alongside a babbling brook.

A ride through history

Joevan Gabriel, 28, our guide for the day, explains a rough outlay of the course. It consists of 12 miles of bike paths that snake and crisscross through a 500-acre property. Surrounding us are 150-year-old trees with trunks the circumference of grain silos. Speckled through the jungle are breadfruit, avocado, banana, orange, tangerine, grapefruit and mango trees.

"If you get lost," Gabriel says with a smile, "at least you will not go hungry."

The jungle and bike courses are owned by Anse Chastanet, a spectacular 600-acre, five-star resort where cottages dot a hillside overlooking one of the best beaches in the Caribbean. This getaway for the wealthy is an odd backdrop for one of the most tortured periods of Caribbean history.

We strap on helmets, climb aboard our top-of-the-line mountain bikes and slowly follow Gabriel down the main path. After a few minutes we stop at a large, crude, rectangular structure with nothing but the walls intact. We walk through an opening where the huge door once stood and are at the center of what was St. Lucia's biggest slave plantation. In the 1700s, some of the more than 600 slaves on the island worked in this structure producing sugar, molasses, cocoa and rum.

In searing heat, we mercifully stand in the shade and listen to Gabriel spin horrific tales of Mamin, the notorious Frenchman who ran the plantation. Above us on a hill still stands the small house where Mamin lived alone. Nearby sits a giant iron vat where Mamin once boiled cane juice into syrup and beat the slaves while they worked.

The British abolished slavery in 1848, and the plantation continued to produce the goods for export that helped make St. Lucia today one of the Caribbean's most stable and peaceful islands.

Threats of summer hurricanes do the most damage to the economy. Hurricane Dean, a Category 5 storm, passed between St. Lucia and Martinique in August, then skirted Jamaica and the Cayman Islands. The damage was minimal and most resorts were open within days of the storm.

Go ahead, take a hike

After Gabriel's history lesson, we take off to explore on our own. The fat tires of the mountain bikes provide a cushion as you negotiate rocks, branches and holes. I leisurely tool around the main path, where at one time donkey carts hauled molasses barrels to ships headed to the American colonies.

Confidence firmly in place, I take an intermediate loop and quickly curse my complete lack of cycling acumen as the slightest incline made every rock and branch seem as imposing as the Great Wall of China. Frustrated and hot, I backtrack and find a swimming hole cooler than the Caribbean a few hundred yards away. I shower in the waterfall.

This sure beats a golf course.

At one time, Anse Chastanet considered putting an 18-hole Jack Nicklaus-designed golf course here. The plantation is a reminder of a grim time, but a golf course would have uprooted the historic ruins. A horse riding operation was considered. That didn't work, either. Having numerous horses on a jungle trail all day would be problematic.

But Michael Allard, one of Anse Chastanet's managers, suggested biking. Why not? The trails were still around from the 19th century. It's environmentally sound. Youth on the island had discovered BMX cycling. The resort contacted Cannondale bike manufacturer and had its staff train the resort's staff.

In 2000, Bike St. Lucia began.

For an international splash, Cannondale sent world champion Tinker Juarez to check out the operation. He designed Tinker's Trail, a 1,000-foot jigsaw climb on a mountain that sticks out of the jungle like a skyscraper.

"We don't advise you to bike it," Gabriel says. "We advise you to hike it."

I asked Gabriel how many bikers have made it to the top. Just one: Tinker Juarez.

I attempt the assault but it is futile. The 60 percent grade is pockmarked with giant branches and rocks. I ride 10 feet, nearly fall off and then get off the bike.

I decide to hike it. I feel horribly inadequate pushing a bike up a bike path but the result is worth it. At the top of the mountain I catch a spectacular 360-degree view of the Caribbean. Gros Piton and Petit Piton, St. Lucia's majestic, jungle-covered, pyramid-shaped mountains, are in front me. Below me is the construction of the Jade Mountain Club, Anse Chastanet's newest resort, featuring a swimming pool with each room.

The royal blue Caribbean Sea provides the perfect frame for this remarkable portrait. I ring Tinker's Bell, placed there for celebratory bikers at the top, and make my way down. If going up is impossible, going down is terrifying. I careen around corners where one slip could send me rocketing into sticks and shrubs.

When I reach the bottom, I throw myself in the sea. The crystal clear, 83-degree water feels better than any massage. As I collapse on a lounge chair, I feel an odd breeze. I look down. My swimsuit is ripped in front from the bottom through to the waistband.

That sure never happens while snorkeling.

Information from the Washington Post was used in this report. John Henderson, a sports writer for the Denver Post, writes frequently about his worldwide travels.

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IF YOU GO

St. Lucia jungle biking

Guided jungle biking costs $95, including lunch and equipment. For information, go to St. Lucia JungleBiking at www.junglereefadventures.com.

For more information about traveling in St. Lucia, contact the tourist board at (758) 452-4094 or go to www.stlucia.org.

[Last modified September 12, 2007, 15:30:30]