The Peak

Felicia and Solavy hug halfway up the north slope.

The view of Fort Dauphin's northern bay from the summit of Pic Saint-Louis.

This was one of the last raspberries growing by the side of the trail.

The grasshoppers here are as luridly colored as the ones in Florida.

Wind erosion has shaped some of the mountain's rocks into unusual forms.

Christian and I try not to get blown off the top.  Photo by Felicia.

Felicia and Wes stand atopthe very highest part of the summit.

From here you can see the unpaved road, designated as a national highway, that goes north all the way to Vangaindrano.

Written October 12, 2012

Manambaro

This post is dedicated to Andy Kiser and Marion Chamberlin.

A while ago, on my father’s advice, I wrote a list of places I want to see in Madagascar before I leave here.  Most of them are in the south, since I’ll need considerable time and coin to get north of Mahatalaky or Antanimora.  Since I’ve already determined that I’m not going to be able to see the whole island, I might as well focus on getting to know my own area thoroughly.

So when Felicia, in town for a post-COS surfing extravaganza, invited me on a climb up Pic Saint-Louis, the mountain that towers above Fort Dauphin, I jumped at the chance.  It also gave me a chance to spend a few days with Wes, “guy time,” as he calls it.

For the rest of Tuesday and Wednesday we just relaxed in the Mahavoky Hotel, and watched movies while Felicia got her fill of surfing at Monseigneur Beach.  Thursday morning we got up at five or so, had a breakfast of street pastries, and met up with four Gasy guys.  One was our designated guide, Christian, only 17 or so.

It took us a while to even get out of town from the hotel.  The sun broke rosy pink over the beach.  We took the road towards Mahatalaky, approaching the mountain from the north.

We might have missed the trailhead if the Gasy guys hadn’t been so familiar with the route.  It was little more than a path that led into the sugarcane by the side of the road.  We fairly sprinted up the trail in our eagerness, despite it being pretty steep, through head-high grass, over boulders and along watercourses that had been carved into the earth.  It was easy to see how a tourist, or anyone unfamiliar with trailfinding, could get lost on this face of the mountain.

The view became more and more astounding as we climbed.  I slowed us down by stopping to take pictures.  Unfortunately, seeing the town from on high means that you get a full view of how much QMM, the titanium-mining concern, is working behind the scenes.  They have three different... settlements?  sub-divisions?  bases?... let’s call ‘em housing areas, with immaculate streets, manicured lawns, and rows of identical houses, just like you’d find in America.  Of course these areas are surrounded with trees and chain-link fences to hide them from view of the general population.  It’s just a touch sinister, how artfully they hide their business of turning mountains inside-out.

Not this mountain, though.  As we approached the top, the trees thinned out, and the wind came upon us in full force.  I had to secure my hat to my backpack so as not to lose it.  The summit itself is a bare dome of rock, with decades of climbers’ graffiti scrawled on it.  The wind was so intense we had to shout to hear each other.  But the panorama from the top is unparalleled.  You can see all the way to Saint Luce to the north, all the way to Italy Bay to the southwest, and a good ways past Manambaro to the west.

We descended the lee side of the mountain, a longer route, but not quite as steep.  The trail goes along a spine of smaller peaks and delivers you an easy distant away from the town’s streets.  We passed raspberry thickets and plenty of traveler’s palms.

Once in Fort Dauphin, we all parted ways.  Wes and Felicia were planning a luxurious lunch at one of the vazaha restaurants, and I had to get home.  After a quick meal at HK, I got on the taxi brousse and was on my way back.

There are still more than a dozen destinations on that list.  Evatra Peninsula, Faux Cap, Andoahela National Park.  How does the song go?  Climb several mountains, ford one or two streams?

NO!  EVERY MOUNTAIN, EVERY STREAM!

And now you’ll have The Sound of Music stuck in your head.