Fort-de-France to Mount Pelée

The day didn’t really start with a plan - and that was probably a good thing.

We left Fort-de-France mid-morning, once the city had properly woken up.

Shops opening, shutters half up, people already deep into their day.

It felt like the right moment to head north, before the heat got too insistent and before we’d overthought it.

Jean-Luc from Ti’Route Martinique picked us up just outside the hotel. Easy smile, calm energy. No clipboard, no rehearsed welcome. The car was clean and cool and honestly that was enough at that point.

Once you get out of Fort-de-France, the island changes quickly. Roads narrow, green gets thicker, and suddenly everything feels less organised but more real. Banana trees lean in close, sugarcane flashes past the windows. You stop checking your phone without noticing you’ve stopped checking your phone.

Jean-Luc talked as we drove. Not constantly. Just when something mattered. A village name, a bend in the road, why people up north do things a little differently. Some things he explained, others he just mentioned and let hang there. That felt right.

Mount Pelée never really showed herself properly. She came and went behind cloud, like she couldn’t quite be bothered. And that somehow made her more impressive. Even hidden, you feel the mountain there. Heavy. Patient.

The air cooled as we climbed. At one point my phone said 22 degrees and I remember thinking how strange it felt to be pulling on a light jacket in the Caribbean. I didn’t mind it at all.

We stopped a couple of times where there wasn’t really a sign or a lookout. Just a place where the road opened up and the view made you slow down. Sea below, cloud above, everything in between very green and very quiet.

Lunch was at Le Petibonum. Clifftop, open air, the kind of place that doesn’t try too hard. The view does most of the work anyway. Fish was fresh, flavours simple. Dessert involved bananas and rum and I probably didn’t need it, but ordered it anyway.

After that we wandered Saint-Pierre. “Wandered” is the right word. There’s no rush there. Ruins, rebuilt sections, history just sitting in the open. It’s beautiful but also unsettling, if you think about it too long. We didn’t. We just walked.

A bit of rain came through. Not enough to stop anything. Umbrellas out, umbrellas away. Streets shiny for five minutes, then dry again.

Getting around Martinique isn’t difficult exactly, but it’s not seamless either. Buses run when they run. Taxis exist, but not always when you want one. Outside Fort-de-France especially, you’re better off not relying on perfect timing.

Having Jean-Luc for the day made everything simpler. He adjusted things without saying much about it. Took a different road. Waited without making it feel like waiting. Those details matter more than people realise.

If it helps practically: a full-day private tour like this usually sits around €250–€300, depending on how far you go and how long you’re out (late 2025 prices). It’s not the cheapest way to travel, but it’s easily the least stressful.

Tips aren’t expected, but they’re appreciated when someone gives you more than just a ride.

Martinique isn’t showy. It doesn’t perform for visitors. You have to meet it halfway, slow yourself down a bit, and let the day be slightly unstructured.

That’s when it works best.

Enjoy Martinique. It grows on you.

Merci beaucoup
Lindsey