The Forbidden Falls

by Cliodhna Cunningham (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

A leap into the unknown Martinique

Montagne Perle was smothered in darkness when we began to climb her wild pathways. The footpaths were barely visible and the angle of elevation was acute. But, we plodded along the fern-lined tracks willingly in hopes of seeing the elusive bird spectacle that is rumoured to take place each solstice at the volcanic falls. The locals’ suspicion of this route to the waterfalls became very clear to us after speaking to a few fishermen earlier in the week: none of them had been before and one even warned against the hike because he told us that no-one would be bothered to look for us if we got lost. We were a bit confused about it all but all that truly mattered to us girls was that no one said that the spectacle was a myth. So here we were, climbing hard to keep a steady pace up Mama Perle - acutely aware that with each minute the sunrise was drawing closer. We still couldn’t see much beyond our headlights but we could feel the terrain growing thicker in density: the vines underfoot were carpeted with a spongy ochre moss and the valley was becoming increasingly narrow. Then, a sharp right turn through the undergrowth took us to the river. The river wasn’t dissimilar from an obstacle course: sometimes we would need to balance along fallen logs or clamber over small dams of limestone rubble. We were getting closer but the darkness was slipping away pretty swiftly. At the end of the valley there was a fluorescent blue snake slithering up the vertical rock face. A silent worry registered on all of our faces as we realised that a potentially venomous snake was directly blocking the pathway to the waterfalls. After a moment of standing completely still, Mimi stepped towards the snake and grabbed its turquoise tendril - we all screamed in unison for her to stop but she was at the front of the group so we couldnt pull her back in time. However, to our immense relief, the snake flimsily conformed to Mimi’s grip. It was a rope! Mimi smiled back at us with a mischievous grin and steadily placed her feet on the slippery limestone rock face, pulling herself up a bit too quickly. Mimi howled in sheer elation. We all started buzzing in the realisation of our proximity to the completion of this mission of ours. So, in single file we all hurriedly heaved ourselves up the rope’s length to witness a most tremendous sight: a duo of glassy waterfalls stood above us in colossal measure. We sprinted towards the water, our screaming delights echoing loudly across this new oasis. We chucked down our bags on the rocks and dived into the water immediately: the sweet nectar of Montagne Perle welcomed us dearly and we all held each other in a tight embrace. The night was really struggling to contain the morning light and as we floated in the plunge pool listening to the crashing cadence falling around us, we heard a deep rumbling sound emerging from what seemed like the sky. It was actually coming from the top of the falls, and quickly developed into a delicate cacophony made up of the songs of a thousand different birds. About a second later they came: a shimmering curtain of tropical birds swooping over the top of the falls, skimming the white horses with their celestial feathers. It felt like the rainbow had melted into the volcano overnight and above our heads was the result - vibrant colours pouring out from the secret falls just for us. We all looked at each other in that awe-filled manner that is reserved for those otherwordly moments that words can't really capture. After laughing and swimming about for what seemed like a minute but was reastically probably only three seconds, the birds were gone. Unfortunately, there wasn’t really any time to discuss what we had just seen as our flight was leaving soon. So we packed our bags and hiked downstream in a fatigued haze trying to process the morning we had just lived.