What ended with flames, dogs, and old tires began with an innocent little walk in the hills. Ever since Ben and I got married, our hikes always seem to end up with us accidentally walking on private property, and then trying desperately to get out unseen as fast as possible.  Naturally, our latest hike ended up the same way, although it started out very nice.

Ben and I are trying to save money, so we decided to skip the fancy stuff for my birthday this year and go hiking in a new place. To give you some context, “hiking” for us usually ends up being bushwhacking through some marginally dangerous area, and one of usually gets stung by a wasp or poisoned by a manchineel tree or something along those lines. Don’t ask us why we keep doing it. Maybe it’s an addiction.

Trails are great (and slightly less painful), but there’s something about going where no man has gone before (at least in the last year or so). We always end up finding the most exhilarating views and loneliest places, which makes it all more than worth it.

On this particular hike, we began at the Grandes Cayes area in French Saint Martin. There is a nice though somewhat rugged trail that goes around the hill to a hidden beach called Petit Cayes, but we decided to go straight up. We tried once before, but we got rained out and had to go home. This time, it was a perfect day! This area of the island is so nice. When the grass is new, it ripples in the wind like an ocean of green. Simply mesmerizing.

By February, though, the grass is less flexible. We discovered why they’re called “blades” of grass. By the time we were done, we were criss-crossed with cuts and bleeding slightly. I felt like I had been in a sword flight with a bazillion Lego-sized Musketeers.

Once we got to the top of the hill, we could see absolutely everything! It was such a clear day that we could see Anguilla and its keys, Tintamarre, Pinel Island, and St. Barth’s in detail. We looked down and saw a helicopter and a someone parasailing below us.

Amazingly, we could also see the ocean floor through the water. It was so clear that we could pick out the reef, the drop-off, the sandy areas, and the sea grass. At this point, I was really wishing we had brought our snorkel stuff. If you’re looking for a good place to snorkel or dive on Saint Martin, this is (in my opinion) the best spot of all. Also, check out Tintamarre— can you believe people used to live there? Today, it’s uninhabited and pretty expensive to get to, even though it’s close. Heck, you can go to St. Barth’s for cheaper and actually get to do stuff. Still, the allure of Tinatamarre is calling me. I’m jealous of the people on those sail boats.

After I published this, someone sent me this link for a cheaper fare to Tintamarre. I’m adding it here, just in case you want to go!

We followed what looked like a trail for a while, but eventually it turned into a meandering path that disappeared altogether. We found a 200-yer-old property line, and walked on top of it for a while. Back in the day, landowners had their slaves haul rocks to build short walls all along their property. I can’t imagine having to carry those big rocks up the hills! It is brutal enough just to climb up there. Eventually, the rock wall disappeared into a thicket of thorn bushes, so it was back to wading through the six-foot-tall grass and looking for random cow paths.

Once we got to the summit, we felt like we were on top of the world! We did a bit of bouldering for the fun of it.

At this point, we were just about directly above Petit Cayes Beach, and we know that there’s a path somewhere in the hills that goes directly to the beach. I’ve seen it from the other side. So we started looking.

That’s where we went wrong. 

At this point, we began to wade aimlessly through the grass, looking for some sign of the trail. There was no sign of it anywhere. Eventually, we decided to throw in the towel and go back down. Unfortunately, we had lost the path!

We needed a vantage point, so we ended up walking up this super steep path to a high mountain. We discovered more great views, and the less-than-great news that our original “path” was ridiculously far away by now. Like three peaks over.

Also, Ben almost ate this spider:

You know what they say: the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Obviously, this was coined by a mathematician and not an explorer. We decided to go for it, and went straight down the slopes. It was about a 30 degree angle and we couldn’t see where we were walking, but every time we tripped over a rock or fell into a hole, the long grass caught us softly.

To give you an idea of what we walked down, here’s a picture of the hill. We started from where I took the picture and ended up on the left edge of the dump. That’s wasn’t the goal, though, obviously. From the top, it looked like we could get close to the dump and walk around the edge. Oh, sure. That worked out great.

By this time, I was wishing I could pull out a parachute and just jump down. Ben went hunting for a trail, and I walked/ tripped/ fell down the hill and met up with him at the bottom.

Once we got down there, we discovered, much to my dismay, that the only way out was through the dump. I could walk up and around or attempt to shred my legs further in a thicket of thorn bushes, but if I wanted to be done with our everlasting wandering in the endless grass, the dump was it.

Of course, I wasn’t thrilled by this idea. It wasn’t as bad as the time we got lost on the Camel’s Head in Phoenix, jumped down into what we thought was a piece of undeveloped desert, and found ourselves in a minimally-landscaped, highly-secure, multi-million dollar estate’s backyard with a dog, but it was still pretty bad. Some employees at the dump saw us considering our options, and they started whistling and motioning at us. At the time, I was sure they were going to call the Gendarmes on us. Looking back, they were probably warning us of the unpleasant landscape we were headed for. In either case, we were kind of stuck.

So down we went, into the dump, walking briskly around the edge and hoping not to run into anybody who would yell at us. By the way, I by am no means advocating this. Hopefully you can use our mishap as a way to avoid your own.  We were definitely not enjoying it, especially when we took a wrong turn and ended up right in the middle. Yuck! Now, I’m not hating on the dump, because it looked well run, but it is a dump, after all. It didn’t smell too nice. We were seriously regretting our decision not to go up and around at this point.

Now, if you know me at all, you’ll know that I am a RULE FOLLOWER. No, I’m not going to have another piece of pizza. One per person– didn’t you hear the announcement? Of course I’m not going to return your text during class. The teacher said no phones. No! I can’t share my password with you. The terms and conditions said I can’t. And yes, I read them before clicking the box.

Needless to say, I was really freaking out at this point.

We suddenly found ourselves in the middle of a swarm of flies, and took off running. Flashes of the dump passed me as I ran: a stack of tires, some shreds of clothing, little tongues of flame licking at paper and cardboard. There was a pack of dogs rooting around at the edge, and they looked at us like we were crazy as we flew past. We came to the edge, where there was a steep but short drop and enough room to slide through the fence. Down and through we went, fast as we could go, and came out panting on the other side. Wow, I don’t want to do that again!

We walked, exhausted, to the water’s edge, balancing carefully on the piles of bleached coral that had washed up on the shore. Our hundreds of tiny cuts stung as we washed them in the ocean water. We sat down, exhausted and happy that we made it. “I guess we’ll laugh about this later,” Ben said.

What’s a hike without a little adventure? 

Tell me in the comments: what is your most memorable hiking experience?