We were looking at the folded paper map of Martinique that was laying on our lap, its sides crinkled and torn, as all tourists driving in rental cars in foreign lands seem to have and do, and simultaneously looking out the window, trying to gage our location, direction and orientation.

We were somewhere on the red line on the map, the red line being the main highway going North. We figured that by deviating and following the small yellow squiggly line instead, we could, would, perhaps might, get up close and personal to one side of the volcano that is Mount Pelée.

So after a quick visit through the town of Saint-Pierre that morning, we found ourselves driving along on the red highway of a line, and then deviated (right turn Dave!!) towards the small squiggly yellow line.

The yellow line of a road was pretty decent for awhile, not a highway by any means, but enough for one car to drive happily along. This was a two-lane road however and we think that there was possibly room for that to happen, if perhaps one car moved over while the other oncoming car went by.

And then, with time,



what should appear in front of us?



Simultaneous cries of "Aww, isn't he cute" quickly became a questionable conundrum as we got closer.



He was big. And Brown. And Large. (Perhaps a little scary looking?). There were horns. Yes, perhaps not overly impressive horns as far as horns go, but horns nevertheless. Horns that looked like they could cause some serious type of holey damage. Like impale the car. Or a person. Or a person in a car.

Dave closed the window and locked the car doors. Like really, will that help? Any?



The conundrum was in the chain. The chain went from his horns and lay directly across our path and was tied to something on our right.

There was no way over the chain. That would bring forth immediate impaling on the driver's side. There was no going around the chain as the ditch on the road prevented us from veering off in that direction. And there was no going left either.

There was only us. The Road. The Big Brown Bull. And the Chain. Dave tried telling him where to go. Sign language didn't help.



Dave honked. We think we noticed a bull ear-twitch. Dave asked him to move, all nice-nice. I think the bull's nice brown eyes blinked. Showed us what he really thought of our plan. And we were quickly out of plans.

I somehow got the bright idea (or was I volun-told?) that if I got out of the car, and enticed him to perhaps follow me (or charge after me??), I could quickly get back in the car and we could keep going. Bright idea, right?

So I got out of the car. Knees-a-shaking. This was a French bull, right? Dave (I have no idea what he was thinking) decided he would back the car up just a bit which left me frozen, in place, by the side of the road.



So there I was. Standing there. Knees-a-shaking. On the side of the road. By myself. Facing the bull. I stared at him, at his big brown eyes. And his horns. And the bull stared back at me. I have big brown eyes too !! I smiled or perhaps I cried, I'm not sure. I think perhaps I whimpered. His ear twitched. I swear I heard a snort. I think I snorted back. We locked eyes, and I told him, "Bull, you don't scare me!! " Thankfully I wasn't wearing red, El Torro, Ha!

I smiled, and winked. And then he did a whole body shrug, his brown wrinkled skin flickered and he was soon across the road in just a couple of steps. I think I shrieked and simultaneously backed up and jumped into the car in one acrobatic feat of a move, doors locked behind me (thanks Dave!), a process that took less than a nanosecond.

And in the somewhat safe confines of the car, with the bull now on the right side of the road, we were free to keep going, phew !! So here we were, on the yellow squiggly line of a road that exists on the map, a mere path in our world, trying to make our way ever closer up the side of the volcano called Mount Pelée.

We laughed as we all tend to do after we've faced some sort of exhilarated danger. And then they called me The Bull Whisperer. En francais, SVP.

Ken and Lynn were full of udderly ridiculous jokes, the puns were totally terr-a-bull, and none of this is bull-oney, I swear !!

We kept on going, the road started to get a little skinny(ier),



the lush green vegetation surrounding us got larger, thicker, and where was that road again??



It was hot and humid and looking like it would soon rain. Sure enough, the mist and droplets started, the windshield wipers came on. We were down to first gear only as the car climbed further up at an almost impossible incline. Branches were starting to scrape the sides of the car,



and after the brief rain shower, the windows opened and some leaves actually came into the car. We continued to bobble head our way on up, the car sinking into the deep v-shaped ditches etched into the road and needing a bit of extra oomph to get out of there. Bumpity, bump, bump...

We continued on, out of sheer determination now. I mean we'd come this far, right? Ken murmured that it would be prudent to turn around. I believe one of us replied that there was nowhere nohow that we could possibly turn the car around even if we wanted to.

At some point we came across an old, derelict, barely standing shack of a tin house, with enough rusted cars in the yard to warrant raised and quirked eyebrows, roosters hanging around, a few dogs basking in the heat and humidity of the afternoon, and everything looking like it came out of the backwoods of a horror movie. This time Ken muttered to himself that "perhaps one of us, the one of us that speaks french, could, perhaps, should, get out and ask for directions".

"Not happening" I said. I'd rather take my chances in the car. With the bull. Then to knock on any door within ten feet of that place. Yeesh.

And then there we were, we'd reached the end of the road, just as the map depicted. With the car stopped, the sun came out, and Ken and Lynn were beyond thrilled to unfold themselves out of the car, I think their body language says it all, don't you?



The yellow squiggly line that was the path had come to a stop and according to the billboard we were at an altitude of 700 meters. The only way to continue was to climb/hike/crawl the remaining distance (only another 800 meters of elevation) to reach the top of Mount Pelée. Quite do-able by billboard standards, but only this cartoon car on the map was going any further,



and we certainly didn't see any lazy sheep hanging around as the billboard promised.



It started to rain, Dave got that worried look on his face,

"I think it's time we go" he hinted. "Like now". The road down might not be as pleasant as the road up, if it's raining and the rivulets quickly turn into streams that quickly turn into raging rivers and that would not be a good thing.

So we got back into our trusty white rental car, with our trusty driver, and drove the narrow road back downhill,



while Lynn, squished and folded up in the back seat, was using her lap as a cutting and serving board, dishing out some amazingly delicious sandwiches made up of the chorizo, double creamy Camembert, all on a fresh baguette,



and the sun came out and all was well in the world once again.

We met another beast on the way down,



yet this one stayed on his side of the road,



however, y'all know what's coming don't you?? The same big bad brown bull was in the same spot where we had left him just mere moments ago. This time we were all trained.

Dave honked the car horn. The bull's ear twitched. He snorted. I whispered and winked. He moved and crossed. The road was free and clear of chain. We moved on and in our rear-view mirror saw the bull crossing back to his side of the road. We laughed.

And then we followed the red line of highway of a road all the way around to the East Side of Mount Pelée, hoping to get a better view on that side. The red highway line turned into a yellow squiggly line and there were (thankfully) no bulls on this one. The road stopped at a little rest-stop where here too the remaining distance/climb was only do-able by foot.



And so it seems that Mount Pelée, shall for this time remain dark and mysterious, hidden in the cold fog and clouds,



ready to be explored on some other day.