Off-road climbing in St Lucia with a Land Rover Defender and Suzuki Jimny
Abseiling waterfalls, broken Land Rovers and small Japanese 4x4s to the rescue – it's all part of daily life on Adrenaline Island
Leon Poultney is a writer, driver, rider and lover of all things automotive. He runs Flat-Out Creative and contributes to the likes of Stuff, DriveTribe and anyone else who will have him.
***
Several rotund American tourists stop and gasp for air at the top of Signal Peak, which sits proudly on the north side of St Lucia's Pigeon Island.
Fanny packs, branded golf caps and tote bags with gigantic logos give the game away: these ruddy-faced individuals have just rolled off the gigantic cruise ship that's currently sat idling in the seaport at Castries and they look perplexed, as well as knackered.
Why? Because they've just stumbled across two idiots scrambling along the narrow walking trails in a rented Suzuki Jimny, swinging around the protected military ruins and kicking up dust in front of the numerous photo opportunity sites as they race to beat the weather and reach the starting point of an epic and tricky-to-reach rock climb.
Jimny to the rescue
Try this without some local knowledge and it's highly like you'll be pointed towards the nearest prison, but thankfully, the nearby resort that I'm staying at is on friendly terms with the National Trust and has exclusive access to one of the most picturesque roped climbs on the island.
It's now Thursday and I've been on the Caribbean hideaway since Saturday. In that time we've managed to break an old Land Rover Defender 110, abseil down a waterfall, mountain-bike around an old sugar plantation and secure the most unlikely back-up vehicle to continue our quest.
The point of this trip was always to unearth the hidden side of St Lucia – the overgrown paths, the tricky terrain and challenging driving routes that face anyone who ventures outside the comfort of an all-inclusive resort, but I got a lot more than I bargained for.
Just one of the amazing sunsets on the island
Closer to the edge
With only a few hours to get acclimatised after a long flight from the UK, I'm up early and dodging epic Caribbean downpours to meet my guide for the day. The resort I'm calling home for a few days mainly caters to the keep-fit types, offering daily aqua aerobics classes and yoga on the beach, but there's a lot more on offer if you care to dig a little deeper.
Anone wanting a proper adrenaline kick are pointed to the man with a library of local knowledge. Marlon is the island's coolest climbing instructor and he just so happens to use a tricked-out Defender 110 to ferry folk around. My kinda guy.
After some convincing (and due to a distinct lack of interest in his programme from other holiday makers), Marlon agrees to accompany me on a road trip (and loan me his wheels). But in order to get it past his bosses, we have to pretend we are off in search of some killer climbs. We load up the chunky off-road machine with helmets, ropes and water to throw the powers that be off our scent and head into the dense jungle foliage of Dennery.
The chunky Defender looks well at home in these surrounds
St Lucia is unlike many of the typical postcard Caribbean atolls in so much that it features some crazy elevation for such a compact place (3,143ft above sea level is the highest point), while the interior of the volcanic island is largely covered in thick, inaccessible jungle.
We peel off one of the handful of main roads and follow a demanding, mud-spattered track for a few miles. Recent rains mean small landslides block the road ahead, while rapidly sprouting plant life requires the odd machete-wielding session to clear the way. The Defender's manual gearbox needs 'mechanical sensitivity' in order to keep the revs up and momentum going on the toughest parts.
It generally copes admirably and its knobbly off-road tyres (that are worryingly worn in places), roof rack and spade mounted to the rear ensure it looks the part surrounded by lush rainforest. We stop for what I can only assume is a snack break, but Marlon begins unloading the rear. He points towards an overgrown path and we begin a half-hour hike along a slippery route towards our intended waterfall destination. So we are climbing, after all.
The Errard Waterfalls are not for the faint-hearted
My guide is kitted out in Wellington boots, shorts and a t-shirt as he nonchalantly hacks away at the dense vegetation with an enormous blade. I feel overdressed in trainers. The remainder of the trek involves slippery streams, steep climbs and much foul language as deep mud pools digest my footwear, but the vistas from the top of the 66ft-tall body of cascading water are well worth it.
Errard Falls, like many things to come during my stay in St Lucia, is a lot higher and more demanding than I imagined, but the adrenaline buzz felt after gravity does its thing makes the toil worth it and the view of the rainforest canopy as cold water piles into my eyeballs is a memory that will stay with me forever.
The damp and meandering drive back to the north west of the island takes in the many banana plantations of Dennery, where the roadsides are dotted with drying snakeskins. According to my guide, local farmers kill and peel the deadly fer-de-lance snake and hang up its entrails as a warning to others in the area.
The snakeskin graveyard warns of danger ahead
But just as we roll past another snakeskin graveyard, the Defender emits a worrying crunching noise from its gearbox. The clutch and manual 'box have been temperamental all day, but Marlon insists its just a quirk of his beloved British workhorse.
My guide soon changes his tune when he realises the remainder of the journey back to the resort has to be in either first or second gear. It is slow, hot and torturously loud, but we manage to coax the bit lummox back to our hotel before the sun sets.
The mighty Jimny
Before I start fielding phone calls from Land Rover's PR department, I must point out that the Carribbean Defender probably didn't benefit from the stated service schedule, nor was it worked on by an authorised dealer, but what's worse, spare parts take weeks to arrive here, meaning our ride for the week is now defunct.
Not a bad place to break down
A quick phone call to the tourist board throws up a few options, but the only 4x4 the small spattering of car rental companies have on their books (that don't cost an absolute fortune) is a mighty Suzuki Jimny. Quite the step down from our ultra-rugged Defender, but if anything can tackle the upcoming terrain, it's the tiny Japanese tank.
In my naivety, I assumed it would be a brand new Suzuki Jimny that would arrive at the resort, arguably one of the coolest little cars to come out in recent years. But alas, it was a battered, previous-generation model with plenty of miles on the clock that eventually spluttered into the car park.
Regardless, the little off-roader proved to be a warrior when it came to navigating some of the extremely demanding 'roads' that veer off some of the more established stretches of Tarmac.
The Jimny eats up 'roads' like this
It takes more than two hours to drive the 34-miles from Rodney Bay to Soufriere in the south, which Marlon recommend for its challenging routes, with the blacktop zigzagging across steep hillsides, winding through green-covered valleys and grinding to a halt at the various small towns.
In any other part of the world, this drive would be quite daunting and a little frustrating, but the views of a crystalline ocean afforded by some of these elevated mountain passes is worth every bit of discomfort.
This little third-gen Jimny, with its puny 1.4-litre engine and four-speed automatic gearbox, sounds like it is going to explode on some of the more demanding climbs and there's one final test in the form of a proper off-road section before we reach the exclusive Anse Chastanet Resort, where a local mountain bike ride awaits.
An iconic view of the Piton Mountains. (Image by: Leon Poultney/Flat-Out Creative)
Suzuki's Jimny is trusted the world over as a cheap, economical and ultra-reliable way to get from A-to-B. It's far from comfortable, but that's part of the appeal here. With manual windows wound down and the little auto 'box constantly hunting for gears, it's a memorable, if not entirely enjoyable drive.
On top of this, it's phenomenal how the lightweight machine manages to make mincemeat out of rocky paths and steep inclines. It might pack about as much puff as an earthworm, but it somehow manages to drag itself along routes that would typically be off limits to everyone else.
One epically long, noisy and arduous scramble along an unnamed path leads to one of the most breathtaking viewing points on the island. It's clear from the surrounding vegetation that not many venture here but as always, fortune favours the slightly stupid.
Seeking shade, the Jimny way
One final climb
With the Land Rover still well and truly crocked, it's up to me to transport the climbing gear and my guide to the final adventurous activity of the week.
A lingering issue with my left knee means it's swollen up like a balloon thanks to the week's various physical activities (and the Defender's ridiculous clutch), while the inclement tropical weather has decided to dump a load of rain on the exact site of our intended rock climb.
Not what a novice climber expects to see
With cruise passengers and overweight tourists suitably vexed, we decide to take a detour to the very north of the island, where the landscape miraculously changes from thick, green vegetation to dry and dusty plains.
This is the wild Atlantic side of the Island and the sparsely populated region makes for some awesome off-road action. Even my adventurous guide Marlon is impressed with the little Jimny's prowess over some of the trickier terrain. It's like a toy. Should it get stuck, my passenger merely hops out and bounces the rear of the car until it is freed.
A break in the weather sends us hurtling back towards Pigeon Island and frantically unloading the rear of the diminutive 4x4. The hike down to the rocky shores of this historically significant site is tough enough.
The Jimny affords access to the 'Wild Atlantic' side of the island
With absolutely no indication whatsoever, we veer off one of the sign-posted walking paths and scramble down an almost sheer drop before miraculously being deposited, dishevelled but unharmed, alongside the uncharacteristically rough Caribbean Sea.
From here, it is a case of coasteering around to the foot of the rock climb, which requires some fairly intense, un-roped ascents in itself – my knee and backpack laden with camera gear suggest I turn around and head back on several occasions.
"You're one of the first to try this activity," Marlon reveals as he attaches a karabiner to my waist. It turns out the activity was only recently added to the long list of challenges he offers to adventurous residents.
Marlon, the man with the local knowledge
There's no time to think about that though, because the cliff face we are perched on sits about 30ft above sea level and the rocks below look like they'd mangle anybody foolish enough to lose grip.
Due to the nature of the climb, it's difficult to start from the bottom (the sea is usually too rough), so I'm instructed to belay down before making my way back up again.
This is supposedly the entry-level rock face (the most challenging involves a Hollywood-style overhang) but every muscle in my body is burning when I finally haul my broken shell above the precipice.
Beer and jerk chicken taste extra good after a day in a Suzuki Jimny
The little Jimny is merely a speck in the distance from up here on this high rock. It still looks weird surrounded by historical and culturally important landmarks, as well as perplexed tourists. 'We definitely aren't supposed to park there,' I muse, in order to take my mind off the painful climb back down.
But that's the appeal of the little Japanese bruiser: it's a go-anywhere, park anywhere sort of vehicle. Granted, it is one of the least refined things on the planet, but on this adventure at least, it out-lasted a Defender and delivered us to places most holidaymakers wouldn't even know existed.
Join In
Comments (14)
A lot of love for the Jimny on here these days, and boy do I love it!
They are great little off-roaders, my mate just got one to replace his Vitara, after his wife blew up the engine. He’s impressed with it
Defender for life......
I would take a discovery 1 or 2
Yes it’s a good off road. But yet I have found my slife stuck up to axles in mud just mud. Before any one says you don’t know what to do. In the 49 years of driving them l been wear you would not believe. On one of disco my discs were cut in half. Was told that salt was not the best thing to drive through.
You can keep the Jimny and Defender, I’ll take a Discovery 1 or Classic over them. Or ideally a new Defender. Basically something comfortable and capable.
I hope you are not talking about the newest defender XD
Well why not? It’s basically class leader offroad