Soufrière Hills is the volcano that buried Plymouth, the capital of Montserrat, when it woke in 1995. The ash set so deep over the town that you now walk into it at what used to be roof height. The southern half of the island has been a sealed exclusion zone ever since. With a permit, a certified guide and a radio line open to the observatory, you get about an hour inside the buried capital, and you tread on hardened ash past shopfronts filled to their ceilings and a church tower standing in grey mud. Not everything down there is buried. On the slopes above the old town whole neighbourhoods stand where they were left, roofs gone and walls open, the bush climbing back through the windows. They were emptied in 1995 and 1996 and never reoccupied.
Jack Boy Hill, on the edge of the zone, is a platform with a mounted telescope looking straight down the eastern flank, over the grey delta that swallowed the old airport at Trants. Steam drifts off the dome on most clear mornings, and the silence up there is the strangest part. The summit is permanently off limits on foot, so the only way to see into the dome is from a small plane. The scoured flanks, the gullies cut by pyroclastic flows and the pale gas seeping out of the rock resolve into one working machine. Twenty minutes north you are on an ordinary Caribbean island again: rainforest in the Centre Hills, black-sand bays, and four thousand people at work. Montserrat's other famous ruin is up there too, and the volcano had no part in it. George Martin built AIR Studios here in 1979, and more than seventy albums were recorded there in ten years. Hurricane Hugo flattened it in 1989, six years before the mountain stirred, and the buildings still stand roofless in the greenery. The volcano's last act was to make more island. In February 2010 a piece of the dome gave way and the flows ran a kilometre out to sea, cooling into about a square kilometre of new coast.