Island of giants

Dominica rises from the sea like a volcano teeming with life. Landing on this island is like stepping back in time, where forests and rivers spring forth everywhere, surrounded by the deep blue of the sea. I walk along the narrow streets by the coast. Houses painted in vibrant colors reveal the joyful energy of its inhabitants.

Curious to explore the island's water veins, I take a tiny wooden boat along the Indian River. Spaghetti (his real name) rows while telling me about the biodiversity of this tiny but unique place on our planet. Among palm trees and mangroves, I gradually discover the island's spirit.

In every corner, I find fascinating creatures, enormous iguanas and even snakes resting high in the canopy, and crabs on the sand shaping the terrain upon which the forest depends.

The next day, looking for where the river migrates, I decide to venture into the island's blue heart. With David as my guide, we dive in the coast of Rousseau, Dominica's port, bustling with ships bringing goods and tourists who shared my desire for exploration. I thought I wouldn't find much in these waters where the human footprint is so evident. I couldn't have been more wrong.

The crystal-clear water offers views for many meters in every direction. From below, the pier has a mysterious air. Its pilings are covered in coral, barnacles, and even enormous lobsters. On the floor, sheltered by white sand, I find healthy seagrass beds and sponges of all sizes, some monumental and almost otherworldly.

In the afternoon, I want to take one last look at the island from a different perspective. Aboard a whale-watching boat, I head out in search of the world's largest predator, the sperm whale. Dominica has a resident population of approximately 200 sperm whales that find optimal living conditions along the island's coast.

The golden sun of the Caribbean sunset illuminates the mountains and the expectant faces of my travel companions.

Stopping the boat's engines, the crew lowers a hydrophone to listen for the characteristic clicks of the sperm whales, which they use like a high-tech radar to locate giant squid in the depths, their favorite prey. These clicks are among the most powerful sounds produced by any animal. Sperm whales also use shorter, more structured clicks called codas to communicate with each other and reinforce their close social bonds.

After a few moments of silence, static, and heightened anticipation, we hear them. These clicks, which I listen to with fascination and admiration through the hydrophone are unique to the Dominica clan, their own cultural identity. They are conversing amongst themselves. I lose myself in my thoughts for what seems like a long time, imagining what they are saying, their interests and desires, their affectionate clicks among family and friends. This gives us a better idea of ​​the direction in which they are possibly located.

On the way, we encounter a small group of pilot whales traveling silently alongside our boat. Completely black, they resemble the shadows of the guardians of the Caribbean. Pilot whales, which are actually one of the largest dolphin species (second only to orcas), live in family groups where the bonds are extremely strong, maintained by the adult females who lead this advanced and harmonious oceanic society.

Suddenly we hear and see the great spout of one of the sperm whales we had overheard “speaking”. He's enormous, probably about fifteen meters long. He travels on the surface like a submarine, with the grace that only nature can design.

After marveling at his presence for about ten minutes, the giant prepares to dive again, arching his back and then revealing his enormous tail fluke. He disappears to dive a kilometer deep, where the Caribbean heat and light also vanish, leaving the sperm whale immersed in its world of sound.

Back on land, I head to Scott Head Beach under the last rays of the sun of an unforgettable day. I'm at the southern tip of the island, where the road and my adventure end.