Land of PLENTY

TO THE UNINITIATED, ST LUCIA IS AS TRANQUIL AS IT APPEARS ON POSTCARDS: ALL PALMS, PLATINUM SANDS AND LUXURY BOLTHOLES. BUT, TAKING ITS CUE FROM THE VOLCANIC FORCES THAT FORMED IT, THIS IS A COUNTRY THAT SERVES UP PLENTY OF HIGH DRAMA — FROM OOZING MUD BATHS TO STORIED SAILBOAT TRIPS AND MOUNTAIN TRAILS

- ADRIAN PHILLIPS

Have you ever heard a frog’s whistle? It’s made up of two notes, the second slightly longer and higher than the first. I’d describe it as a chirpy ‘ger-leep’.

And when thousands upon thousands of whistling frogs start ger-leeping from damp hiding places in the early evening — making great bubblegum blows with their throat pouches in a chorus that seems to swell by the minute — they sound like a mass rally of penny-whistle players.

It’s fabulous. And, now the sun has set, the weather is ratcheting up the atmosphere further. Rain drums mercilessly on the iron-clad roof and dashes itself into a fine mist on the wooden railings of the veranda. Lightning jags across the night sky, and in that neon-lit fraction of a second, I see rain draping a grey shawl over the bay and across the silhouette of the mountains. Then darkness rushes back and thunder rolls like the deep, long growl of some celestial guard dog behind the sky, deeper and longer than any thunder I’ve ever heard before.