Saint Lucia Forestry Stories: Remembering…Augustin “Klue” Isidore

A living encyclopedia on the nature of Saint Lucia, for whom the island’s forests held no secrets

Tribute contributed by Rhikkie Alexander, September 2025

I first knew Augustin as a teenager while spending time in Fond St. Jacques, Soufriere. However, it was not until 1992, after I returned from studies at the Cyprus Forestry College and joined the Forestry Department, that I truly came to know the legendary man.

I was assigned to the Soufriere Forestry Range, working under senior officers Emmanuel Theodore, Michael Bobb, and Theodore Nicholas (affectionately known as TJ). Mr. Theodore was nearing retirement, and Mr. Bobb was the Forest Ranger managing the Edmund Forest Reserve. Nerius Mitchel and Pamella Alfred, as well as Smith Jn Phillip, who operated as a free lance tour guide at the En Bas Saut Trail, joined the staff of the Soufriere Range, a few years later.

From my general recollection, Augustin had worked in the Soufriere Range for eons, starting from his early teenage years. As I understand it, it was during this time that he earned his sobriquet “Klue”—which means “a nail” in St. Lucian Kwéyòl. The name was a perfect metaphor for the man: he was slender, strong, upright, unyielding, and solid in his frame and character, much like the nail that holds structures together. He was a foundational pillar in the world of Forestry.

His knowledge of the local flora and fauna was nothing short of extraordinary. He could identify every tree, bird call, and animal track, understanding the forest not as a collection of species, but as a complex, living system. This expertise made him an invaluable asset, not just to Forestry, but to the dedicated international teams working to protect our national treasure, the Jacquot (St. Lucia Parrot).

I have wonderful memories of working alongside Augustin during the Parrot Project, where his wisdom guided researchers from near and far. He shared the trails with a remarkable crew from the wildlife team, including former Wildlife Chief Donald Anthony, Alwin Dornelly, Lyndon John, the esteemed Dr. Noel Snyder (whom Augustin, with his characteristic wit, christened “Bab Sal”), Jim Dawson, and James Gilardi. To these scientists and conservationists, Augustin was more than a guide; he was a living library of the forest, whose insights were crucial to their mission. His calm demeanor and profound knowledge bridged the gap between local wisdom and global science.

His deep wisdom extended beyond mere identification; Augustin possessed an innate ability to find practical solutions to any problem we encountered in the bush. Whether it was navigating a washed-out trail, predicting a change in weather, or improvising a tool from what the forest provided, his calm, resourceful mind always found a way.

And our time in the forest was filled with more than just work; it was a community. Special mention must be made of a former worker from the Quilesse Range, Henry Maryatte, popularly known as “How.” This individual possessed a unique gift—he could tell a joke in such a singular way that it would have you rolling in unstoppable laughter, even upon the tenth telling of the very same story. His humor, combined with Augustin’s quiet smiles, created a light-hearted camaraderie that made the longest treks feel shorter.

I remember one incident with Augustin vividly. Caught up in youthful exuberance, we were on a trail from Quilesse heading to Edmund Forest, near the slopes of Mount Gimie, St. Lucia’s highest mountain. Eager to forge ahead and be my own discoverer, I asked Augustin how close we were to our destination. He calmly informed me that once I reached the river—which was about fifteen minutes away—I should turn left, and the trail would lead me straight to Edmund Forest.

My adrenaline shot up with mounting courage and a sense of adventure. I informed the team I was forging ahead and would meet them at the river. When I arrived, the breathtaking scenery of the lush, untamed rainforest gripped me with fascination and awe. In that moment, around 10 a.m., I was transported to another dimension. Needless to say, I became completely lost in a tropical sea of forest, and it took me another eight hours to finally reach Edmund Forest.

I remember with fond memories preparing for the St. Lucia National Youth Council Debate Competition, where I represented Soufriere. The workers of Edmund Forest, including Augustin, became my audience during practice sessions on the forest trails. What was most profound was their insightful corrections, input, and additions to my Kwéyòl debate presentations. Their finesse, eloquent grasp, and knowledge of the language were executed with the fluidity and grammatical precision of a neurosurgeon’s scalpel. They spoke Kwéyòl as Shakespeare spoke English. I remain forever indebted to them for expanding my horizons in the Kwéyòl language and improving my English-speaking skills, especially to the grand master, Augustin “Klue” Isidore.

And our work in the forest was sustained by more than just knowledge; it was sustained by good food. Augustin was a remarkably skilled cook, able to transform simple ingredients from the forest and sea into a feast over an open fire. His meals were a welcome reward after a long day’s trek. And we must also fondly remember our colleague, the late Lester Jn. Baptiste—a true gommier chef whose skill at cooking crabs was legendary, creating a flavor so sublime it made one lick their fingers long after the meal was finished. We tragically lost Lester during the passage of Hurricane Tomas, which devastated Fond St. Jacques and other parts of the island.

But one memory of Augustin keeps curling upon my mind and hits its very nucleus. Our crew was returning from Quilesse to Edmund Forest—Augustin, Bobb (whom I affectionately called MB), and Lester. As we traversed the trail, I heard a branch suddenly break. Out of curiosity, I asked Augustin which branch and from which tree it had broken. Without turning to face me, and with his usual calm demeanor, he told me it was the branch of a palm tree. As I turned in real-time to look, I saw, much to my astonishment, the very branch of a palm tree falling to the ground. Augustin then turned to watch me with a calm smile and continued on his path.

Now, of all the numerous tree species in the forest (over 200 species according to the 1949 plant report on St. Lucia by J.S. Beard), Augustin was spot on. That intuition, that memory, that knowledge, experience, and expertise—I can best describe the feeling as being lost in a maze of thought, rendered vague by a lack of words to explain.

Augustin “Klue” Isidore was far more than a former forestry worker; he was a living institution, the verdant soul of Saint Lucia made manifest. To call him a guide would be a profound understatement; he was a cartographer of memory, a sage of the forest, and the primary keyholder to the ecological and cultural secrets of the Edmund Forest Reserve and the Quilesse Range.

His legendary status was built upon a foundation of encyclopedic knowledge that seemed to transcend the academic and touch the ancestral. He didn’t just identify flora and fauna; he understood their stories, their medicinal uses, their Creole names, and their place in the intricate web of the island’s ecosystem. He moved through the dense, mist-shrouded trails not as a visitor, but as an intrinsic part of the landscape itself, possessing a geographical memory so precise it was as if a detailed map was etched into his very being. For researchers, filmmakers, conservationists, and intrepid tourists, a journey with Klue was not a hike but a pilgrimage—a masterclass in seeing a forest not just for its trees, but for its entire, breathing history.

Beyond his immense practical knowledge, Klue was a guardian of place. He represented a critical bridge between formal conservation efforts and the deep, intuitive understanding of the land held by local communities. His life’s work ensured that the stories of the forest, its hidden waterfalls, its ancient trees, and its elusive wildlife, were not lost but passed on, cementing his role as a cherished custodian of Saint Lucia’s natural heritage.

Augustin passed away on 15 December 2021. His death marked the falling of a great tree in that very forest he loved. While his physical presence is gone, the legacy of Augustin “Klue” Isidore is indelible. He remains the eternal benchmark for forestry knowledge on the island, and his spirit continues to walk the trails of Saint Lucia, inspiring all who seek to understand, protect, and cherish its unparalleled beauty. May the earth, as it lies gently on his bones, circulate his indomitable spirit throughout the length and breadth of our beautiful 238 square miles.

Long live the memories of Augustin “Klue” Isidore!

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