KEVON FELMINE

Se­nior Re­porter

kevon.felmine@guardian.co.tt

It’s rainy sea­son, and if you know me, you know that’s my favourite time to hit the bush.

But every time, I get the same ques­tion:

“Al­lyuh re­al­ly hik­ing in the rain, boi?”

Like it’s mad­ness. But yes, we’re still go­ing.

Now, I’m not say­ing rain can’t be dan­ger­ous—it can be. But so is cross­ing the high­way, and peo­ple still do that every day. Hik­ing in the rain just means you have to be smart. That’s all. Hike Club—that’s our lit­tle crew of na­ture-lov­ing fel­las and gyals—knows when and where to go, wet or dry. Over the years, we’ve learned which trails are best for sun, and which ones come alive when the rain falls.

So let me tell you why rainy sea­son is prime time to buss a hike.

First thing: the bush look­ing bess.

The for­est is lush and full of life. The flow­ers are bloom­ing, the rivers full, and the wa­ter­falls? A whole dif­fer­ent lev­el.

Just this month, we went up to Mara­cas Wa­ter­fall and the Bal­a­ta Basins in Mara­cas, St Joseph. We timed it just right, af­ter heavy rain fell the en­tire week. Rain even came down while we were on the trail, and let me tell you, that was a bless­ing. Some­times the for­est gets hot and sticky, but the rain cools your skin. Plus, the small streams along the trail start to flow nice­ly, so it’s ac­tu­al­ly eas­i­er to grip when walk­ing. The moss doesn’t get so slip­pery with the wa­ter run­ning over it.

Now, if you know Mara­cas Wa­ter­fall, you know it’s the tallest in the coun­try—about 300 feet. But in dry sea­son, it’s more of a trick­le than a tor­rent. Not in rainy sea­son though. With all that wa­ter com­ing down from Mt El Tu­cuche, it turns in­to a prop­er cas­cade. Like a nat­ur­al pow­er show­er beat­ing down on your back—pure mas­sage.

An­oth­er one we love is Tu­rure Wa­ter­steps. You have to walk about 2.5 km up the Cumaca Riv­er. But when the rain falls, those lime­stone steps? Lawd. It looks like some­thing out of a movie. Wa­ter run­ning clean and clear down these gi­ant steps, fill­ing lit­tle pools that glow blue when the sun peeks through. Re­al mag­ic.

But be­sides the pret­ty views, rain hikes come with oth­er perks. First off, few­er peo­ple on the trail. The limers who are just out for vibes tend to stay home when it’s wet, so the place is qui­eter—and clean­er too. The air is cool and fresh, the walk is good for your blood cir­cu­la­tion, and that sound of rain falling on the leaves above you? Like na­ture’s own med­i­ta­tion. Re­al stress just melts away.

Now, I’m not go­ing to lie—rain hik­ing is not for the care­free or care­less. You have to know your trails. Some rivers rise fast even if rain isn’t falling where you are. Matu­ra Riv­er, with those Mys­tique, Mys­tic and Mer­maid Pools, swells up re­al quick. One minute you’re wad­ing an­kle-deep, next thing wa­ter at your waist. And Rio Seco Wa­ter­fall? Beau­ti­ful—but that trail is prone to land­slides. One mo­ra tree falls, and that whole side of the hill com­ing with it.

Then you have the wildlife. Rain brings out all kinds of crea­tures — frogs, crabs, small an­i­mals, and of course, snakes. Es­pe­cial­ly mapepires. We’ve al­ready spot­ted a few on trail, but once you stay on the path, don’t pelt stones, don’t pro­voke, wear long pants and boots — you’re good. In the bush, a snake is just an­oth­er neigh­bour do­ing its thing.

If you’re in need of some out­door ther­a­py, don’t let a lit­tle rain stop you. Grab a crew, find a rep­utable guide, and make the most of the sea­son. The for­est is wait­ing.

So yeah, we like to say God is a Tri­ni—but let’s not tempt fate, eh. Hik­ing in the rain isn’t for every­one, but if you love na­ture, love a lit­tle chal­lenge, and your mind open to re­al beau­ty, this is the time to go. The trails are call­ing, the for­est is singing, and the rain bless­ing every­thing it touch­es.

But don’t get car­ried away. Al­ways check the weath­er be­fore you bounce. If the Met Of­fice drops a warn­ing, do like Kes—boil some co­coa tea and take in the rain from your gallery. If the riv­er looks swollen or the breeze blow­ing hard, ease up. Na­ture full of vibes—but it doesn’t make joke.

Just move smart, re­spect the bush, and know when to turn back. Rain hik­ing? That’s not mad­ness. That’s free­dom.