STRAWBERRY FIELDS FOREVER

We drove down from the mountains and somehow found our way back to the main coast highway relying solely on the map. We reached the coast near Runaway Bay and headed east. We made one brief stop at a local beach for ice cream. Then it was on towards Ocho Rios. We passed right by Dunns River Falls without stopping, which probably astonishes more than a few readers of this. Dunns River Falls is easily the most famous waterfall in Jamaica. It is surrounded by a privately-owned park, and admission was $20 or more at last check. Dunns River Falls is famous as a destination where cruise ship passengers and other tourists follow guides as they climb up the falls. If it’d been free we probably would’ve stopped, but I wasn’t really interested in paying money to see people crawling all over a waterfall.

We drove into Ocho Rios and found the road leading south towards Fern Gully and into the mountains. Fern Gully is the one attraction I wanted to check out in the area. It’s not even really an attraction – it’s actually a stretch of the main road leading to Kingston, but it is reputedly surrounded by lush rain forest vegetation. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to see it. That part of the road is currently closed. We took a detour, in hopes that we could drive around to it from the upper end. This turned out to be one of the worst decisions of the trip. The detour followed a narrow, bumpy road through a mountainous residential area. Traffic was exceptionally heavy, and in many places the road wasn’t wide enough for two cars to pass. We quickly decided that we’d made a mistake, but couldn’t find a place to turn around.

On the way back down, Christy had to swerve to avoid a jackwagon driving down the middle of the road. She veered left, and I had an intense view of the looming telephone pole that we had no chance of missing. She hit the brakes, swerved back to the right, and nearly pulled it out. We caught the telephone pole with the side view mirror. Luckily, the mirror simply folded in. No damage done, we resumed the drive back down the mountain.

I’ve read that there was growing concern that exhaust from heavy traffic was damaging the delicate vegetation in Fern Gully. It’s possible that the road has been closed to protect the area. I can only hope so – conservation generally seems to be a low priority in Jamaica.

We continue east beyond Ocho Rios. The scenery along here was nice, but it was only beginning to get good. We passed through a rugged area of impressive cliffs and pounding surf reminiscent of the Pacific Northwest. Somewhere along here we passed the mansion at Firefly and the Galina Point Lighthouse. I had intended to visit the lighthouse, but we managed to miss it. For some reason I expected the lighthouse to be on the coastal side of the road. It’s not – it turns out it’s high up on a cliff above the highway. We didn’t realize it until we arrived in the town of Port Maria.

We stopped briefly in town to get cash at an ATM. This proved to be a bit of a fiasco. When I was asked how much money I wanted, it didn’t indicate if the currency was U.S. Dollars or Jamaican Dollars. Since the current exchange rate is 86:1, it makes a pretty big difference. I requested $500, fearing I’d get U.S. Dollars. I got $500 Jamaican, which works out to be about $6 U.S. Later, I found out that the transaction cost me about $6 in fees. Anyway, I made another withdrawal, as I wasn’t expecting $6 to get us very far. This time I requested $2,000, which seemed like a lot, but really wasn’t. It wasn’t until the next day that I realized we still didn’t have enough cash to pay for our lodging at Robins Bay.

From Port Maria we left the gorgeous scenery behind as we followed the main road inland. The stretch of coast south of Port Maria is still wild and undeveloped, which is why we wanted to visit the area.

We found the turn off the main road for Robins Bay easily. We followed a paved but potholed road along the edge of the bay, passing through a large plantation featuring grazing cattle. A bit farther down the road we slammed on the brakes, jaws agape at the view of the Blue Mountains towering in the distance over Robins Bay. A bit farther on we reached a 3-way fork in the road at Strawberry Fields. Back in the late 60’s and 70’s Strawberry Fields was a hippie commune. These days there are only some local folk living in the area.

At this point I should probably mention that we had no actual directions to River Lodge, where we had reservations for the next two nights. The River Lodge hadn’t offered any, and it hadn’t occurred to me to ask. All we had was a rough description in the guidebook, which we’d already learned was great for trip planning but not so good for actually finding things. The only sign at the junction advertised another lodge to the right.

The road in the middle didn’t look promising, so we tried the left fork. It climbed up away from the coast and through a residential area. We realized pretty quickly that we were off track and turned around. Back at Strawberry Fields we decided to try the right fork. This road led us past a large hotel that appeared to be deserted. We continued on, until we reached another fork and the end of the pavement. There was a bar, a small store, and a few rustic homes here. This actually matched the description in the guidebook, so we continued ahead, onto a dirt road. This was brave, as the road was in horrible shape. It was a washed out, rutted mess, no doubt made worse by the recent rains. I wasn’t sure the rental car was going to make it, but somehow Christy navigated past the worst part. We drove on, passing the occasional driveway, but not seeing any sign of River Lodge. River Lodge is in an old restored fort, so I was pretty confident we’d know it when we passed it.

We eventually reached another fork but continued ahead. The road was now beginning to look more like a trail than a road. Surely this couldn’t be correct? Unfortunately the road / trail was too narrow to turn around. Eventually we found a wide spot and headed back. At the first junction we stopped, and I scouted on foot. I walked down a very steep hill, and I was actually hoping that this wasn’t the correct route, as I wasn’t sure the rental car would be able to make it back up. The road forked again, with one branch leading to a house, and another ending at a small, rocky beach in a narrow cove. Now what?

We drove back down the road, unsure of what to do. We were hungry (having skipped lunch), thirsty, tired, and grouchy. We were out of good ideas when Christy spotted what looked like a sign lying on the ground, adjacent to a gated driveway. She stopped, and I got out to investigate. The sign read “River Lodge”. I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh or cry.

I opened the gate, and we drove up the drive to the entrance to the lodge. The old fort is well hidden by the rain forest vegetation, and isn’t really visible from the road. Unfortunately, we didn’t see anybody home. We wandered around the grounds, trying random doors. Finally we heard reggae music playing, and followed the sound to a small but equally deserted room.

Again we were stumped. Then, two young children came running up, asking if we were looking for Birgitta. We were – Birgitta is the owner of River Lodge. They told us that she was at the house, and asked us to drive them there. We were about done with driving that road though, so we insisted on walking. The kids led us back down the road, away from civilization, to the next driveway on the left. We walked up the drive to a lovely house overlooking a beautiful expanse of meadows and cliffs above the sea. There we met Birgitta, who was wearing a robe. I immediately got the impression that she hadn’t been expecting us. This didn’t really surprise me, as it had taken over a month just to get our reservations confirmed.

Later Birgitta explained that they had just returned from attending to a family emergency in Kingston, which is on the complete opposite side of the island. We also discovered that we were the only guests at the lodge.

Birgitta and her husband made up for our troubles with some fine hospitality that evening. Birgitta made up a cottage for us just uphill from their house. Then they cooked us a fantastic vegetarian dinner that was one of the best meals of the entire trip. They even shared a couple of Red Stripes, which helped us unwind after a long, eventful day. The evening ended with a nearly full moon making an appearance high overhead. We slept well that night, eager to go for our first hike in Jamaica the next day.

NO SHIRT, NO SHOES, NO PROBLEM

Sunrise came at 5:15, but breakfast was scheduled for 8:30. It was hard sleeping in, but we did our best. We walked over to the lodge for breakfast, where we dined on pancakes, eggs, toast, and good coffee. Entertainment was provided by a small lizard, which jumped (or fell) from the roof and nearly landed in my coffee.

Birgitta had arranged for a guide to lead us on a hike to Kwamen Falls. We met our Rasta guide, Dela, at 9:30. I was startled when we met, as I initially thought that Dela was naked. He wasn’t, but his clothing consisted entirely of a pair of dark shorts that blended in with his skin. Most intriguing was that he was barefoot. The hike to Kwamen Falls isn’t hardcore, but there are plenty of rocks along the way. They didn’t seem to faze Dela though. I suppose if you walk around barefoot all the time it really toughens up your feet.

Dela had his impressive braids pulled up high on his head. He led us down the road we had tried to drive the previous afternoon, a full-blown machete in his right hand. Early on I learned to give him a wide berth, as you never knew when he would brandish that machete.

He led us through an impressive rain forest featuring dense tropical vegetation and lovely wildflowers. He pointed out edible fruits and some plants with medicinal uses. Occasionally we’d leave the woods to wander through grassy meadows with fantastic views of the wild, undeveloped coastline ahead. Dela told us that it is possible to hike all day along the coast, and camp at a remote beach a few miles south of Port Maria. Hearing that convinced me that we’d have to return here one day – with backpacking gear.

We traversed cliffs above the pounding surf, a succession of rocky points and secluded beaches stretching out ahead of us. It reminded me of the Na Pali Coast in Hawaii, but the hiking on the old jeep road was much easier. The only real challenge was dealing with the heat. Our return hike that afternoon was like walking through a sauna, with temperatures in the high 80’s and extreme humidity. I think I even saw Dela sweating at one point.

We eventually descended from the cliffs to traverse a lovely deserted beach. We passed a small natural arch in a cliff and wandered past impressive surf-pounded rock formations. We wandered back up onto the cliffs for more views, and then turned off the jeep road onto a faint path. Dela’s machete came in handy along here, as he led us down to a secluded black sand beach. At the far end of the beach we found a primitive shelter, where locals sometimes camp. This was almost paradise, although an unfortunate amount of garbage marred the scenery somewhat.

We had a snack (including some incredibly fresh fruit Dela had harvested along the way) before hiking upstream. My boots were soaked from the previous day’s caving expedition, so I’d decided to hike in my running shoes. Unfortunately there are several creek crossings on the way to the falls, and rock hopping wasn’t an option. I didn’t want to soak my only other pair of shoes, so I changed into flip flops. They worked well for the creek crossings, but were downright treacherous on the final steep climb to the falls. I changed shoes several times on the return hike, which clearly amused Dela. He still wasn’t wearing any.

Kwamen Falls is remote and beautiful. It’s probably 40’ or so high, and surround by impressive cliffs draped in vines and other tropical vegetation. Swarms of birds circled above a beautiful blue pool at the base of the falls. The only down side to our visit was profuse mosquitoes and the horrible conditions for photography. It was noon, the day was sunny, and there just wasn’t much I could do with my camera. That was okay though. Who needs photography in a place like that?

We had lunch and a swim in the pool at the base of the falls before hiking back. We returned to our cottage and had cold showers. Then we drove to town to get some groceries and cash. Well, we tried to. When we returned from our hike we discovered that we had a flat tire. There were a couple of local guys cutting the grass near our car, and they assist me in changing it. Fortunately one of them was smart enough to get a log to block the back tire. When we jacked the car up, it rocked alarmingly and nearly rolled over the log. We were on the side of a steep hill, with nothing in between the car and the sea. Boy, Avis would’ve loved that one.

We got some rocks to supplement the log, and the only other mishap occurred when the trunk slammed shut on my head while I was stashing the flat tire. I actually saw stars, but there was no blood, so everyone agreed that no harm was done. I gave each of them a few dollars for the help, and they seemed thrilled.

We drove into Annotto Bay, which is a small but busy town. We picked up some groceries and got (a lot of) cash from an ATM. We were delayed a bit on the way back due to cattle in the road. We were a long way from Wyoming, but this was clearly a Wyoming traffic jam if there ever was one.

Back at the lodge, Christy had a nap while I explored the beaches and coves near the lodge. The beaches weren’t very appealing, but the scenery was fantastic, with expansive meadows, rocky coves, and the Blue Mountains looming in the distance. I took photos until sunset before heading back to our cottage. Then we headed over to the lodge for dinner. We dined on Parrot Fish, red beans, rice, and salad for dinner. It was a fantastic meal, and at $8 per person, it was one of the best deals of the whole trip.

THE BLUE LAGOON

I got up at 6:30 to go running. I was hoping to beat the heat, but 6:30 wasn’t nearly early enough. I ran back out to Strawberry Fields, but struggled due to the extreme humidity. I got a lot of looks from the locals that let me know that they thought I was crazy. Probably they are right. Still I’m glad I did it. The scenery was fantastic, and we were destined to spend the rest of the day in the car.

I returned to our cottage for a cold shower. We packed and drove over to the lodge for breakfast. It was excellent again, and featured a local delicacy, Aki, which was yummy. We paid our bill and drove back to Annotto Bay. There we stopped at a shop to have our flat tire repaired. We were riding on a full spare, but we knew we could easily get another flat. The tire actually had a puncture and a separate tear, and the rims of the wheel were bent. It was pretty bad, but we were charged about $35, which must’ve been the tourist price. Oh well, I was just glad to get it taken care of. We drove east, though lovely Port Antonio. This whole area is beautiful, and I would like to spend more time in the area when we return to Jamaica. We drove on though, as we had a lot of miles to cover.

Our next stop was at the Blue Lagoon. The Blue Lagoon is famous for the 1980 movie of the same name, which stars an underage Brooke Shields wearing little-to-no clothing. We didn’t see Brooke on our visit, but there were several locals there eager to show us around. I could’ve done just fine without their help, but sometimes it’s better to play along. We declined a boat ride on the lagoon, but settled for a short walk to the springs that feed it.

The Blue Lagoon really is gorgeous. The blue color is due to the mixture of warm saltwater and cold spring water feeding the lagoon. Christy enjoyed a brief swim in the lagoon while I took photos. I would’ve liked to join her, but I wasn’t comfortable leaving my camera behind where it might disappear.

From there we continued around the east side of the island. The road deteriorated as we drove, until it became hard to believe that we were on the country’s main road. Before long the highway seemed inferior to the windy mountain roads in Cockpit Country. We were nearly famished by the time we reached Long Bay. We stopped at three restaurants before we found one that was open, but it proved to be worth the effort. We got incredibly hot jerk chicken and fish from a local shack and ate it on a rustic bench on the bench. The food was fantastic, but so hot I cried through the whole meal. Despite the pain, I couldn’t put it down.

Our random selection of Long Bay for lunch proved to be most fortunate. Birgitta had mentioned that Long Bay featured a great beach, and she was right. In fact, it might be the most beautiful one on the whole island. There was nothing in sight except sand, water, palm trees, puffy clouds, and blue sky. It was so pretty it made me cry. Or maybe that was the jerk chicken. At this point, it’s hard to say. At any rate, one of my few regrets from the trip is that we only spent an hour at Long Bay.

FUNKY KINGSTON

The road really deteriorated after Long Bay. It’s a bit rough east of Port Antonio, but in southeast Jamaica it’s a horror. The idea that it is part of the country’s primary highway is laughable. We left Long Bay and began a harrowing traverse along the edge of a cliff. The road is extremely narrow, and there was a blind curve every 50 feet or so. At least the scenery was fantastic. I focused on it, since watching the road threatened to make me sick. Eventually we left the cliffs behind, but the road actually got worse. In some areas the washouts and potholes are so bad you can’t even really describe it as paved.

I originally planned to make a brief stop at Reach Falls. However, according to the guidebook there is some confusion about access. Apparently the government and the landowner were in a dispute, and the falls were officially “closed”. Our plan was to drive up there and to see what the current situation was. What happened is that we were flagged down by a couple of locals when we made to the turn off the main road. Our first mistake was stopping. They told us that the falls were closed on Monday and Tuesday (this was Tuesday), but they knew a back way and that they could lead us there. This didn’t sound too peachy to me, so we politely declined and returned to the main road. Now I wonder what would’ve happened if we’d just kept on driving. My guess is that we could’ve driven right to the falls, but we’ll never know.

We spent most of the next hour or two dodging potholes and stray dogs. We adopted the driving technique of the other drivers around us, which was to speed along the brief stretches of reasonable pavement before slamming on the brakes at the next set of potholes. Of course that didn’t always work. On more than a few occasions we slammed into a pothole. The moderately bad ones caused the car’s cd player to skip. The real monsters knocked it out of commission for a few minutes. The ocean was largely out of site on this part of the drive, though we did get some nice views of the Blue Mountains from time to time. As we got closer to Kingston the road began to improve, but traffic increased dramatically as well. This made us both nervous, as Kingston is a place we’d just as soon avoided. Unfortunately, there’s no way to drive around Jamaica without passing through its largest city.

Kingston is famous for its ghettos, where riots occasionally erupt. Those ghettos are no place for a couple of American tourists in a rental car to be under the best of circumstances. Birgitta had warned us to stay on the main road on our way through Kingston, and to avoid stopping in the city at all costs. We were inclined to take her advice.

Unfortunately that was easier said than done. We were approaching downtown when I noted a street sign. I consulted the map and checked the sign again. We weren’t on the correct road. I had no idea how that had happened, but it had. By the time full realization had dawned, we were in Kingston’s bustling downtown. Luckily, I was able to use our map to guide us back to the correct street. Once on it, we were determined not to lose it again. However, that turned out to be more difficult than expected, too. We followed it to a square and worked our way around to the far side. According to my map, we were going the right way, and should’ve been home free. It looked like a straight shot from there to Spanish Town and points west. That’s when the world’s largest flea market jumped out into the street in front of us.

The map fails to note that the main road through Kingston dead-ends right in the middle of a huge market. Christy brought the car to a halt, and I was overcome with a sense of doom. There were literally thousands of people milling about. We worked our way through the crowds, following a steady line of crawling traffic. We zigged and zagged our way through the market, and somehow found our way to the far side. The entire time I resisted the urge to ask Christy if she wanted to park and do some shopping.

We finally found the open road again, which was a huge relief. We sped out of town, and a few miles later, picked up a brand new toll road leading west. The toll road cost a few dollars, but with a speed limit of 110 KM / hour, it was money well spent. After bouncing around half of Jamaica driving the new road was delightful.

It ended all too soon, but even the back roads we took from the highway to Treasure Beach were better than the main road on the east end of the island. We drove through the Santa Cruz Mountains and worked our way down through small communities back towards the coast. Along here we passed a massive aluminum factory, and noticed that all of the homes and shops in the surrounding towns were built out of metal trans-ocean shipping containers. We eventually left the last range of mountains behind and began a long, steep descent to Treasure Beach.

Our accommodations for the next 3 nights were at Viking’s House in Great Bay. Viking’s House is something like a bed and breakfast. We would be staying with a local Rasta family, which we thought would be far more interesting than a boring hotel room. As usual, I didn’t have actual directions to get there aside from a rough, marginally accurate map in the guidebook. I had Viking’s cell phone number, but was reluctant to call because of the international roaming charges.

We only missed one turn. We figured that out pretty quickly and doubled back to the correct road. We followed it to the end, arriving at Viking’s House just after sunset.

Continue reading about our trip as we explore Treasure Beach.

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