French Guiana ... Prisons, Paradise & Rockets

A French overseas territory, French Guiana is most noted for its penal colonies, especially Devil's Island where its most famous prisoner, Papillon, was incarcerated. What we viewed as a paradise on our arrival was anything but that to the thousands of prisoners who were transported from France to live out their lives here in a hot, insect-infested, hellhole of place. Come explore the prison islands of Iles du Salut, then travel with us up the River Maroni to historic St. Laurent and take a road trip inland to the capital city of Cayenne. 

Îles du Salut - Salvation Islands

October 2015

We arrived in Îles du Salut (Salvation Islands) after a 27 day passage from St. Helena Island. It was good to be on land again and stretch our weary, sea-lame bones. Though these islands seemed like paradise to us, they were, in fact the location of the notorious French penal colony, Devil's Island, now a popular tourist destination accessed via a ferry from Kourou. Visitors are only allowed on St. Joseph and Royale ... Devil's Island remains off-limits to tourists.

We ventured to Ile St Joseph first. Other than a small guesthouse, there are no amenities on the island, but a well-maintained path led us along the island's perimeter. The French first sent colonists to the Guianas in the mid-17th century in hopes of establishing a stronghold in South America, land of the mythical, golden El Dorado. They used these islands as a staging point for new arrivals before moving them to the mainland. Lack of planning and supplies resulted in a huge death toll; most of the 13,000 colonists died of disease. That however, did not deter the French from sending convicts here. From 1852 to 1862, the French emptied their continental prisons and shipped 13,000 undesirables to the Guianas. Convict deportation to the Guianas continued through the mid-20th century. There was no salvation here for the early colonists, nor for the prisoners that followed.

Ile St. Joseph was initially used for political prisoners … any adversary of Napoleon III was considered a criminal and deported. Prisoners were housed in small, isolated cells and were not allowed to communicate or smoke. Guards ensured this by constantly walking on the metal grids that formed the ceilings of each cell. The prisoners were required either to stand or lay on the bare ground. There were no beds nor chairs. Stools were not allowed into the cells until 1936.

We dinghied over to Ile Royale, the largest of the Salvation Islands. Ile Royale was the “welcome center” for processing new prisoners. It was also the administrative center for the prison and, as such, the residences and social center for the prison staff and military were located here. Their facilities differed greatly from those of the prisoners. There was only one road leading along the shore and we followed it. It was hot and steamy. When we walked in the shade of the dense foliage and palms, it was quite pleasant. In the direct sun, however, it was intense. Cicadas hummed a hot tune. There were not as many birds as I would have imagined, only finches and a few colorful parakeets flitting around. There were terns and plovers down by the shore. There were, however, lots of agouti … red-rumped agouti, to be specific. Closely related to guinea pigs, these medium-sized rodents roamed all over the place and were not particularly disturbed by our presence.

Some of the surrounding area and renovated buildings are now used as accommodations for guests on the island and are mingled with the ruins of the quarters for the old prison staff. Other buildings provide photos and explanatory information about the prison. The church seemed out of place here in what was a hell for most of the residents.

An exhibit inside the church caught our attention. It told of the escape of Rene Belbenoit. Sentenced to life imprisonment for theft, he made five escape attempts and the last one was successful. In his book Guillotine Sèché (Dry Guillotine), he recounts a two year journey on foot through the snake-infested jungles of South and Central Americas to the USA. Supposedly, it was the publishing of his book and story that finally led to the closing of Devil's Island.

Want to read more about the Salvation Islands?

We departed Iles du Salut at first light, heading northwest along the French Guiana coast. Within minutes, the sun was up and blazing and Ile Royale was aglow. Though we were motoring only 10 miles offshore, there was little to see. The land here is flat and low, fringed in mangroves. Beyond Kourou, there are no other cities or towns on the coast. Based on our previous experience with unlit fishing boats at night and taking the advice of others who had sailed this route, we opted to do the 110 nm trip to St. Laurent du Moroni in two days, traveling only during daylight hours. Our goal the first day was to position ourselves near the entrance to the Fleuve Maroni in order to be able to catch the rising tide heading up river in the morning.

The day was hot and humid, the sun so bright it hurt our eyes, even though we were wearing sunglasses. There was a shimmery haze of heat, however, whenever we looked towards shore. We saw numerous fishing boats, some close enough to wave at us. They fished with nets in open boats (pirogues), their floats and markers laid out in what seemed a haphazard fashion, the midday sun blazing down on them. We saw a pod of dolphins along the way, but they were working, not playing, and didn't stick around long. Several large, bright yellow butterflies fluttered by, moving several knots faster than Cups, on a mission, no doubt. Later on, a rabble of black butterflies made their way past us … perhaps a butterfly convention up ahead? A scruffy-looking tern landed on the solar panels and was quickly shooed away, but he was determined to land and found a spot on the bow pulpit to settle for a few minutes.

We anchored for the night off the entrance to the Maroni River (Fleuve Maroni), well-positioned to catch the rising tide upriver in the morning. We lost the ocean swell as soon as headed into the river and then the water began to change color. From turquoise green, to grey-green, to khaki brown to coffee brown. We heard howlers roar and monkeys chatter. The hum of cicadas provided constant background noise. Earthy smells and smoke replaced the smell of the ocean. The shoreline was thick with mangroves and dense, tangled foliage. A daunting sight, we imagined, for unprepared colonial settlers with no experience in such a hot, humid, hostile environment and a sense of doom for arriving prisoners.

The 40-mile transit up river was easier than anticipated and soon we saw several sailboat masts. Read more about our life on the Maroni River in our blog here.

Saint-Laurent-du-Maroni… a sleepy riverport town

Arriving in a new port after a month at sea is always a momentous occasion. After traveling the 20nm upriver, St. Laurent du Maroni (SLM), French Guiana's second-largest city, was a welcome sight. Even its name conjures up lovely thoughts, don't you think? However, when you find out what it's associated with, it alters your perception a little. It's a sleepy little river port that sits just across the river from Albina, Suriname. The buildings are dilapidated. The roads are pot-holed. The people are friendly. Getting a mooring and checking in with Immigration and Customs was a prolonged 3-day affair. Things move slowly in French Guiana, but there’s not much angst or hassle; it’s just slow.

The first thing we noticed when we came ashore to the marina office was a large bronze statue of a shackled prisoner. SLM was the arrival port for all French prisoners. Convicts would be processed at Camp de la Transportation, just across the street, and then assigned to one of several prison sites in the area, including Devil's Island. You can get a detailed look of Saint Laurent du Maroni here.

We wandered around a bit to acquaint ourselves with the town’s layout, then made some important stops… the ATM to get Euros, the fresh market to replenish the larder after our ocean voyage and the boulangerie (bakery) to get a fresh French baguette.

Boat chores are inescapable, especially after a long voyage. There’s the usual maintenance, then repairs and, of course, things like laundry and hauling fresh water since the river was too silty for the watermaker. The list was long, but we had incentives… once we finished the chores, we could concentrate on playing! Read our blog about boat chores here. It’s neverending.

Le Camp de la Transportation

“Six thousand convicts locked up in our prisons put a severe strain on our budget, decaying steadily day by day, and constantly threatening society. It seems to me that we can make hard labour more effective, less moralistic, less expensive, and above all, more humane by using it to develop French colonies.” So spoke Louis Napoleon Bonaparte in 1850 in a public speech. The first deportation of prisoners from France to French Guiana began in 1852, just two years following his speech.

We purchased our tickets for a guided tour of the Camp de la Transportation. Passing through the arched gate and into the prison grounds was somewhat disquieting knowing that 70,000+ convicts had passed through this same portal under much different circumstances. Between 1890-1930, Le Camp was constructed by convicts solely with punishment in mind. Read more about Le Camp here.

On the Road to Cayenne

We rented a car for a couple of days and headed to French Guiana’s capital city of Cayenne. The 256-km ride was fairly unremarkable though we made a few stops en route.

Kourou (KOO-roo), noted specifically as the location of Le Centre Spatial Guyanais, the European Space Center, is a town that has grown up around the space center and it is pretty cosmopolitan. We passed through quickly then revisited on our return trip.

In an hour, we were in Cayenne. Our hotel, Hotel des Palmistes, was touted to be an 1890-vintage Creole mansion with a bar, restaurant and nine guest rooms located right on the Place des Palmistes in the center of town. We found a parking place right in front and remarkably, it was everything we thought it would be. We were in Cayenne!

Exploring Cayenne

Cayenne, for which the pepper was named (not vice versa), is the capital city of French Guiana. It's not particularly large, ~120,000 people, but it's Guayane's “big smoke”. Located on the Atlantic at the mouth of the Cayenne River, the city has a mottled history. First colonized in 1604 by the French, the Portuguese destroyed the original settlement, but the French returned in 1643, only to be beaten back by the local Amerindians. A permanent French settlement was established in 1664. Constant territorial conflicts had the city controlled by the French, Dutch, and English over the years until it was finally returned to the French in 1814. It was part of the French penal colony from 1854 until 1938, although the penal colony legacy is less evident here than in other areas we visited.

The weather was hot and humid. The city streets are narrow and crowded. Old Creole buildings show their age and lack of maintenance. It reminded us of New Orleans architecture in the French Quarter… fancy wrought iron balconies, full-shuttered windows, bright colors, but unlike New Orleans, these houses were faded, tired, and dilapidated.

Walking around town was interesting and provided a limited impression of French Guianan city life.

Next stop on our to-do list was La Musée Departemental Alexandre-Franconie. Located within an old Creole house bought by the government in 1884 from Gustave Franconie, the Alexandre-Franconie Museum is an eclectic glimpse of French Guianan nature, culture and history. The museum only offered limited Saturday hours. The sign on a huge, old building read Conseil General and in faded, barely legible letters below “Musee Departemental”. We had to ask if it was the right place. It was. We paid our €3/pp admission fee.

Cacao

I'd read about the Hmong Sunday market in Cacao on several websites as well as Lonely Planet. Cacao is a small Hmong village about 70 km (40 miles) south of Cayenne. The Hmong people are originally from the mountainous regions of China, Vietnam, Laos and Thailand. During the Vietnam War, France and the USA recruited thousands of Hmong people to fight against the North Vietnamese. After the war, Hmong refugees fled and sought political asylum elsewhere. France repatriated several thousand people to French Guiana where their industrious natures and talents have thrived. Not much goes on in French Guiana on Sundays and it seemed a worthwhile trip... so we were off.

Once we left the city limits, the road narrowed significantly and followed the contour of the land up and down (15% grades!) and around hairpin turns. We encountered single lane, wooden plank bridges that clop-clop-clopped as we took our turn to drive across.

At last, we reached Cacao. We were amazed at the number of cars and throngs of people in the tiny town. It was packed. We wandered around looking at the fine crafts on offer. Some folks especially kids were dressed in Hmong traditional costumes. We took advantage of some authentic phở (fah) for lunch.

We returned to Cayenne hot and tired, but glad we’d made the trip. We packed up and planned for an early morning departure to Saint-Laurent with a stop in Kourou. It was time to return to Nine of Cups and get ready to move on.

Kourou

As we passed through Kourou on our return trip, we learned that tours required advance reservations, were 3 hours long and in French. We passed on the tour and wandered around on our own to see what we could see.

A Little Taste of France

‘Vacations’ end all too quickly. We were soon back aboard in Saint-Laurent finishing up last minute boat chores. Before leaving however, we were invited to a cruiser group dinner at Le Mombari, a well-known local restaurant, to enjoy moules-frites. The national dish of Belgium, moules-frites is very popular in Northern France and in French Guiana. A kilo of mussels in a marmite (black kettle) is served with a large plate of frites (French fries) on the side. We found a kilo was plenty enough for two to share. The traditional way to enjoy this dish is to use the empty mussel shells from the first one you eat as pincers to extract the subsequent mussels. Served with cold white wine and French bread to soak up the delicious, creamy broth, it was a feast for the palate. The fries, by the way, are served with mayo.

Suriname was either 1.5nm directly across the Maroni River from us (Albina) or ~150nm to a safe anchorage at Domburg, about 35 miles up the Suriname River, and 8 miles north of Paramaribo, the country's capital city. After three weeks in French Guiana, we were heading back down the Maroni River. Come on along with us to a new country, Suriname… previously known as Dutch Guiana.