Montserrat

On 18 July 1995, the dormant Soufrière Hills volcano burst into life on the island of Montserrat. This was the first of several eruptions that ultimately destroyed Plymouth, the island’s capital city. Almost two-thirds of Montserrat’s population were forced to flee, many relocating to the United Kingdom. By 1997, fewer than 1,200 remained on the island.

In the years since, much of Plymouth, including its central business district, has been progressively buried under ash and debris from repeated pyroclastic flows. These events have resulted in it earning the nickname, “Pompeii of the Caribbean”. The volcanic activity continues, generally affecting the vicinity of Plymouth, and the island's eastern side, which once housed its airport. The old airport was buried by flows from the volcano's most recent eruption in 2010. 

However, despite 16 quiet years, the volcano is still active: ground inflation and volcano-tectonic earthquakes are still recorded, and sulphur dioxide spews steadily from still hot fumaroles on its lava dome, forming a gas plume that descends towards the coast. Consequently, the southern part of the island is, to this day, considered by the authorities as uninhabitable and unsafe.

For as long as I can recall, I’ve wanted to visit Montserrat and see the buried city of Plymouth. In fact, if I’m honest, its inclusion on the cruise we booked definitely influenced our decision. Most cruise companies give it a miss as it lacks a wharf suitable for large cruise ships. The island can only be reached by tender, thus restricting access to smaller vessels like our ship, the Silver Shadow. 

Montserrat didn’t disappoint. Our boat dropped anchor shortly before 8:00am in Little Bay on the island’s northwest coast. After breakfast, Garry and I joined a minibus tour that took us down the island to Plymouth. Our route took us through several new settlements established to house the former capital’s diaspora, including Brades, the territory’s interim capital and the township of Salem.

In the hills above Salem lies the Montserrat Volcanic Observatory (MVO). This slightly jaded white semi-circular building was our first stop of the day. It was officially established in 1999 to monitor the restless Soufrière Hills volcano, assess its many volcanic hazards and risks, and attempt to forecast its future behaviour. It also offers an uninterrupted view of the mountain from a safe and relatively protected location.

Getting to the observatory was an adventure itself. The northern end of Montserrat is incredibly hilly. As a result, the road constantly climbed hills and dropped into deep ravines. The road from Salem was particularly hairy. It was incredibly steep, featured hairpin turns, and was paved with uneven, heavily weathered (i.e. potholed!) concrete. 

Sadly, the volcano’s summit was shrouded in low clouds during our entire time on Montserrat. However, its gently arcing flank was clearly visible from the MVO, as were remnants of its most recent pyroclastic flows. Below is an image of what we saw, along with what you can see on a good day. The observatory screened a short film about the 1995 eruption and subsequent destruction of Plymouth. This neatly set the scene for our next stop. 

Currently, the island is divided into a series of hazard zones. Zone 1, which covers its northern end, is considered safe to live in, while higher-rated zones in the south are considered progressively more hazardous. Zone 5, encompassing more than a third of the island's southern end, is currently an exclusion zone. Visitors aren’t normally permitted to enter it. However, authorised local guides can take visitors briefly inside if MVO staff grant approval on the day. 

Luck was on our side. Our minivans were given permission to visit Plymouth. To get there, we drove along Friths Road, over the Belham River, and around the base of Garibaldi Hill. Whenever Zone 5 is deemed too hazardous to visit, tourists are restricted to visiting a lookout on the hill. Apparently, sand is the island’s largest export earner as the local sand is perfect for making quality cement. As a result, the area bordering Zone 5 is a hive of activity, supporting several sand quarries. Our group passed several laden dump trucks and conveyers pouring freshly mined sand into large mounds. 

Before we knew it, warning signs marking the exclusion zone’s boundary came into view. I couldn’t believe I was about to tick off another bucket list experience. For the next three kilometres, we made our way to the coast through dense vegetation. Dirt banks on either side of the road were a stark reminder of the nearby volcano. Our guide reminded us that these were actually overgrown ash and pyroclastic deposits.

Our route into Plymouth took us past the town’s former technical college towards the remains of its main jetty. As we drove, ruined buildings came into view, some cloaked in vegetation growing in a layer of ash up to half a metre deep on their concrete roof. As we approached the coast, the scene became progressively more surreal.

The Molyneaux Building was one of the more surreal sights we encountered. This four-story building was built in 1989 as the corporate office for Cable and Wireless and the Government’s Audit Department. It’s built entirely of concrete and was the island's tallest building. These days, only its top two floors are visible. The rest of the building lies under almost seven metres of mud and ash. That’s it in the first image below.

The jetty was nothing to write home about. That is, until our guide pointed out that it once stretched more than 50 metres into the harbour. These days, thanks to the volcano, less than ten metres of jetty stands in open water as pyroclastic flows progressively create new land. Our guide shared images of the town before its destruction and spoke of fleeing with his child as a dark and deadly volcanic ash cloud descended on his home. We later learned that he once managed the island’s old airport before it was inundated by volcanic debris.

Looking back towards the volcano, we could see it gently rising behind the town. The smell of sulfur permeated the air. A large boulder field was visible in the distance. Our guide explained that these boulders were three kilometres away, making them appear deceptively small. They were actually the size of a small house or a large bus. Then he pointed to a misty haze shifting below the cloud line. This mist wasn’t cloud; it was venting gas and steam from the caldera drifting directly towards us. It was an eerie sensation watching the haze come and go as our guide spoke of the volcano's destructive history.

Once his presentation was completed, we returned to our minivans for a drive through the western edge of central Plymouth. The experience was truly mind-blowing. We drove by buildings filled to the roof line with mud and debris. We were driving on a flat road, which meant level ground was once several metres below us. This realisation was brought into stark relief as we passed the Flora Fountain Hotel.

The hotel, built in 1984, consisted of two adjacent buildings. The ground floor of one building housed Angelo’s Supermarket, distinguished by a series of arched windows. A second circular building housed a fountain in a central courtyard, hence the hotel’s name. The internet is filled with images of Angelo’s supermarket buried to the top of its arches. You can see my version of these above. 

Above you can see the upper floor of Arrow’s Manshop Store, a ruined building noted for its yellow window frames and two semi-circular wings. Nearby was an elegant office building, with arched windows still intact, but buried partway up to its second floor. Further on, more roofs appeared at ground level. At times, everyone on the bus audibly gasped as we passed one buried building after another.

Our guide saved the best for last. We stopped briefly outside St Anthony's Anglican church. Sitting on higher ground,  slightly north of the town centre, this area was never buried. Instead, a concrete-like layer of ash has settled on everything. Our guide invited us to step outside and take a few photos. He then invited a couple of us to follow him down the road. He took us around the side of a boundary wall surrounding the church, up a shallow dirt bank (more ash deposits!) and along the side of the building. 

Suddenly, we found ourselves standing in a doorway looking into the ruined structure. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Daylight broke through the gutted ceiling, revealing abandoned wooden pews and dramatic collonaded arches lining its central nave. Splashes of vibrant vegetation gave the entire scene a surreal post-apocalyptic feel. It was a magical moment. Hopefully, my photos have done it justice. I’ve also included an archived image of the church in its heyday.

 

The tour returned to Little Bay, where Garry caught a tender back to the ship. I decided to visit the local museum located on the edge of the island’s new cricket ground. Sadly, it was closed. However, the walk gave me a closer look at the island’s new white-walled, red-roofed Cultural Centre that opened in 2007. The island’s long-term plan is to transform Little Bay and the surrounding district into the island’s permanent capital. These new facilities, including a deep-water jetty, are being constructed progressively in support of this vision.

With little else to see, I caught a tender back to our ship for lunch. That's another item successfully ticked off my bucket list. I can finally say I’ve visited both the original Pompeii and its modern replica. The destructive power of nature is certainly a sight to behold, and just a little humbling. Garry and I also worked out that it’s the third active volcano we’ve visited. Previously we’ve explored lava flowing from Kīlauea in Hawaii and walked through the crater of Whakaari/White Island in New Zealand. We really must stop visiting active volcanoes!

Farewell 2025

The last few days of 2025 have simply flown by. The weather forecast hasn’t been the best since we arrived. As a result, we’ve taken advantage of a full fine day and spent time exploring some of the local highlights at Cook Beach and the surrounding area.

Our first full day was spent exploring the headlands at the beach’s northern end with Matt and Shelley. This included the Shakespeare Cliff Lookout, nearby Lonely Beach and some well-earned hydration at The Hive, a local micro-brewery. 

The following day, a massive storm swept through the area. It caused local flooding along parts of the eastern coast, including the Bay of Plenty. We spent the day indoors playing board games and giving Shelley’s brother-in-law’s new slushie machine a solid workout with plenty of frozen Margaritas. I’ve also whipped up a few ginger Caprioskas during cocktail hour.

On Tuesday, Garry and I took advantage of another break in the weather and headed for Hahei to do the Cathedral Cove coastal walk. As best I can recall, this is the first time I’ve ever been to Cathedral Cove. Despite the crowds, it was an awesome experience. Its iconic natural arch was as impressive in real life as it is on Instagram.

Afterwards, we rewarded ourselves with a late lunch of fish and chips and beer at the Pourhouse, a micro-brewery in central Hahei. However, it wasn’t my first walk of the day. I’d already risen early and joined Matt for a walk along Cooks Beach. By the time Garry and I got back home, I’d clocked up an impressive 15700 steps.

We had 23 people in attendance for New Year’s Eve. The yard along the side of the holiday house looked like a used car yard, and we had a tent pitched in the backyard, while Hamish and Karin parked their motorhome next to Garry and me. The annexe bunk beds and the garage itself were also filled with guests.

Our hosts set a “70s Disco” theme for the evening. Garry and I successfully cobbled together some last-minute costumes with the help of others. It was a huge night full of fun and laughter. It was a great way to see in 2026.

Garry and I spent our first day of the new year visiting Hot Water Beach today. It’s been at least 45 years or more since I last visited this iconic New Zealand beach. When the tide is low, you can dig holes in the sand and soak in warm thermal water percolating through the sand. Sadly, everyone had the same idea, resulting in a rather chaotic experience. However, I can chalk up another bucket list activity, one of many I’ve got planned for this trip.

Cutting it close

We’ve experienced an incredibly nerve-wracking start to our vacation. I must take full responsibility for the stress we endured yesterday. Months ago, I booked a motorhome for our ten-day stay in New Zealand – in part to provide us with comfortable accommodation while creating some last-minute flexibility with our itinerary.

Matt and Shelley warned us some time ago that twenty or more people might be staying in Brian and Janice’s holiday home at Cooks Beach. As a result, we’d either find ourselves relegated to a tent or sharing bunks with one or more families in an open-plan annexe attached to the beach house garage.

I used a third-party marketplace website to book our motorhome. However, at the time, I failed to notice that the company supplying our vehicle closed at 1:30pm on Saturdays and was closed on Sundays. Our flight was scheduled to land at 12:15pm on a Saturday. This made the vehicle pickup tight but doable. That is, until I subsequently realised the motorhome depot was based in Pokeno, a 30-minute drive from the airport. I’d missed this detail as the company offered a complimentary airport transfer. As a result, I assumed it was based close to the airport.

I contacted the depot to see how it would handle a flight delay. I got some very standard answers that made it clear they’d close on time. Follow-up correspondence left me with a sense that I was communicating with an outsourced call centre. In other words, I couldn't get any sense of what would actually happen on the ground. We were simply told that if we arrived after 1:30pm, we’d have to wait until Monday to collect our vehicle.

This morning our flight to Auckland departed on time and, thanks to favourable winds, landed 20 minutes ahead of schedule. A quick transit through immigration and customs resulted in Garry and me meeting our airport transfer around 12:30pm. This left us with an hour to reach the depot, complete formalities and be on the road before it closed at 1:30pm. Things looked good.

Queue the first dramatic plot twist. Traffic slowed to a crawl as we hit the southern motorway. Our 30-minute airport transfer quickly transformed into an hour-long start-stop crawl. However, luck was on our side. I’d messaged a staff member as we left the airport. They kindly waited until we finally arrived, 15 minutes after closing time. I couldn’t believe it. Her conduct was in stark contrast to the cold, formulaic corporate culture that had permeated my earlier interactions.

Queue the second plot twist. As we tried to start our motor home, we discovered its battery was flat. Our waylaid staff member called a technician and spent another 20 minutes servicing the vehicle before we finally hit the road. She also gave us a spare battery-driven jump-start kit in case the vehicle wouldn’t start after visiting the local Supermarket. We’d been warned earlier that we were best to stock up at the Supermarket in Pokeno as grocery options were very limited at Cooks Beach.

We reached Cooks Beach, our destination for the next seven days, shortly after 6:00pm. Let’s just say we slept well last night. A brisk walk at dawn along the beach this morning has reset the dial after yesterday’s drama. Let the vacation begin!

Oh yes, and before I forget, we’re expecting 23 people for New Year’s Eve. Booking a motorhome was definitely the right decision.