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On Dominica, an island marbled with waterfalls, rivers and hiking paths, taking a more vigorous Caribbean vacation.
When I saw that the only way down the 300-foot cliff was a series of ropes and roots for handholds, I gasped. Below, a field of rocks was being battered by the Atlantic. I wistfully thought about earlier Caribbean vacations, when the main activity was sitting on a beach, lifting a pastel drink that complemented the startlingly aqua water. But after reminding myself I hadn’t come to Dominica for lolling, I grabbed a rope and began the climb down, backward, to reach a place called Wavine Cyrique, which I’d been told was one of the best sights on the island.
