Breaking the Strangler’s Grip: The Hamilton Sugar Mill Chimney Stands Free Again
For decades, the towering chimney of the Hamilton Sugar Mill stood as a sentinel and a reminder of Nevis’s sugar-producing past. Rising 25 metres above the landscape, it’s the first thing visitors see when approaching the ruins, a symbol of resilience, but also a testament to nature’s relentless determination to reclaim the land.
The Towering Heart of the Mill: The Chimney
The chimney is the most prominent feature of the mill. It rises to a height of 82 feet (25 metres) and served as the conduit for hot flue gases from both the boiler and the boiling wall, channelling them out into the atmosphere. Its structure begins with a square base section spanning the initial 12 feet (3.6 metres), transitioning into a circular shape with a 9-foot diameter (2.74 metres).
Hamilton Sugar Mill Information Panel #6
When we began planning the self-guided walk through this historic site, it was clear that time had already worn away at the structures, but nature had taken things even further. And no force had been as relentless as the strangler fig.
Read more about the new self-guided tours of the Sugar Mill here.
The Strangler Fig: Nature’s Relentless Grip
Strangler figs (Ficus spp.) have a way of making their presence known. These trees don’t start in the soil like most others; instead, they begin life as tiny seeds lodged in the crevices of trees, rocks, or, in this case, an old sugar mill chimney. From there, they send out aerial roots that creep downward, wrapping around their host like a slow-moving python. Over time, what starts as a delicate vine turns into a hulking mass of wood and foliage.
Strangler figs can be both a blessing and a curse—while their roots can help hold ageing structures together, they also pry apart stone and brick, slowly tearing down whatever they’ve claimed.
Aerial View: Just How Bad Was It?
From the ground, the fig’s grip on the chimney was obvious, but it wasn’t until we took an aerial look that we truly understood how much of a hold it had. The tree had completely wrapped itself around the old flue, a green cloak smothering the structure. It was an incredible sight—beautiful in its own way, but also quite concerning. If we did nothing, the tree would eventually bring the chimney down. But if we removed it too aggressively, we risked the whole thing collapsing in an instant. We needed an expert.
Aerial Revelation: Nature’s Grip on the Mill
Calling in the Tree Surgeon
Enter David Beejay, a tree surgeon with the delicate touch this job required. This wasn’t a case of simply cutting the tree down and job done. The fig tree had become part of the structure and removing it carelessly could spell disaster. David’s approach was measured: rather than stripping the tree away completely, he carefully removed the upper branches and vegetation, leaving the lower aerial roots intact to provide some much-needed stability. It was like untying an impossibly tight knot—slow, deliberate, and requiring a deep understanding of both plant and stone.
Watch how it happened:
Nature's Second Life
At Vanilla Paradise we are really passionate about being as sustainable as possible, so we've come up with a brilliant way to reuse the branches we had to take down from the chimney. Our talented colleague John Wedderburn has transformed this wood into a unique two-seater chair for our soon-to-open Vanilla Café. Just imagine sitting in this handcrafted chair, enjoying a glass of vanilla tea whilst taking in the Caribbean Sea and Nevis Peak. It's sustainability with a view!
Standing Free Once More
Now, as visitors approach the Hamilton Sugar Mill, they no longer see a chimney swallowed by greenery, but a proud structure standing strong against the Nevisian sky. It may bear some wounds, but it’s still here, a testament to resilience and preservation.
The Mill stands free but shows the damage that the Strangler tree has caused to its stonework
From our shade houses in Vanilla Paradise Nevis, we often look up and see it in the distance, watching over the landscape. It’s a daily reminder of the delicate balance between nature’s power and the stories that need to be kept alive.
