26 February Walking to Barrington Fort

Researching on the internet I found an alternative to our regular Pigeon Island walk – Barrington Fort starting at Catamaran Marina and walking north via a track to Barrington Fort for views across the island.

We locked the dink at Catamaran Marina, did the obligatory tour of the chandlery and then started off on our stomp. We walked up to the main road, turned right past the supermarket and a left turn towards the houses at the foot of the hill. So far this road and track walking is OK. Then we started the climb, up and up, one vertiginous left hander but still on tarmac, across a cattle grid which said private, no access and onwards to the end of tarmac and the beginning of the sand track.  This track must be the one for access to the pair of communication towers.

We climbed steadily taking breaks to admire the developing view of Falmouth Harbour and catch our breath, upwards to the pair of communications towers above us.

As we neared the top the path took us to the 'inside' of the hill and we were looking out over the plain to North Sound. A sudden downpour cooled our burning brows, but we dried as soon as the rain stopped which just as we reached the first ruins; the original gateway to the fort. Now we were walking on massive sandstone flags. Who were the people who cut these rocks from the hill and built the road? I doubt if they volunteered for the job.

And then we were at the top and, in the much used phrase, the world was before us. A Wow moment, not awesome in the true sense of the word, but it packed a punch. Falmouth Harbour, the entrance to the south, the reefs clearly seen and the boats, our Jackster located in the pack next to a super yacht on a mooring. I know why Captain Barrington built his fort here with views out to Montserrat, St Nevis and St Kitts, east to Nonsuch Bay and north over the Sound.

east view

splendorous Falmouth Harbour

You can see the sites of the forts along the ridge of Pigeon island, Shirley Heights, possibly all the way to the capital of St Johns.

There is something eternally uplifting about sitting atop a hill / mountain and looking down on the landscape, picking out the landmarks, and here, gazing across the sea to another country. What is the inbuilt trigger, the basic wiring that inspires us to do this? Is it a survival thing?

north with a sugar cane mill

After sitting and contemplating a while we began quicker descent passing a man on a mule who was coming up the hill after doing some gardening work for an older lady. I guessed he would be taking one of the branch paths back to his house somewhere on the other side. For us it was onwards and down with a direct line to the ice cream fridge in the supermarket. A reward for all the calories we'd burned on our climb this morning.