Treasure Beach is a string of fishing villages along the coastal road, now geared towards community tourism. The area isn’t as packed or as commercialised as at the Northern resorts, where the benefits of tourism are monopolised by unethical and uncaring international hotel chains. Rather, the tourism of Treasure Beach remains firmly in the hands of the locals: the small and sleepy bars, restaurants, kiosks and accommodation are largely run by locals. It’s a quiet place; tourist high season runs in the winter. That meant it would just be us, the fishermen, and the beach… my idea of the Caribbean!!
Then I entered the Chill Time. There wasn't much to do save go to the beach, watch the football, chat, play dominoes and swig rum. There were 11 of us in total, from all over Western Europe and the US.
On Sunday, five of us decided to chance the weather (rainy season in Jamaica equals cloud, cloud, and some more cloud… and rain) and make the journey by boat to the famous Pelican Bar – a wooden shack built in the middle of the ocean on a sand bar, and now one of the most famous bars in Jamaica. “That owner there is now a millionaire,” our guide Junior informed us. “Everyone wants to go to that bar. Every time there’s a hurricane, he can afford to just go and build it right up again.” It was certainly a ramshackle affair, and the sea wind whistled straight through it.
We then sailed onwards to Black River, the town at the mouth of the river of the same name. At 44 miles, it is Jamaica’s longest; the crystal clear water is turned an inky black by the moss and mud at the bottom of the river. The river runs into the Great Morass, one of Jamaica’s most important wetlands; but it is most famous for the crocodiles which inhabit the area! The boat sped through the mangrove forests and swamps, and on the way we spotted several crocodiles. One particularly large one (apparently only an infant) basked in the heat on one of the piers, perilously close to the town. We weren’t in any real danger though – the crocodiles are virtually tame: the local tour guides have a vested interest in keeping the crocodiles around, and once the crocodiles have been called over (they each have names) happy tourists can hand feed them.
Once Junior and our driver had sped off, we discovered that it had only just turned noon: plenty of time, then, to pack in a visit to one of Jamaica’s premier natural phenomena, the fabulous YS Falls just half an hour away. It’s a series of ten greater and lesser waterfalls on the YS River covering some 36m from top to bottom; each cascade separated by a pool of perfect turquoise, ideal for bathing. There are zip wires and swing ropes for the more adventurous, and guides can take you through the falls and point out the best places to swim – and jump!
Our guide, Mikey, was only 18 and had had already worked at the falls for three years. It is a job that many would kill for: he takes tourists around the falls, taking photos and videos and helping them navigate the waterways, all in the midst of tropical forest in the coolness of the mountains. The swing rope was terrifying: I hate the “G Force” and any kind of rollercoaster, and my teeth were firmly gritted as I felt my feet leave the wooden platform and lurch into open space! At the right moment, I let go and fell clumsily into the pool a few meters below. After what seemed like an age, I resurfaced and gasped for air. Jumping off the waterfall ledge was a similarly terrifying experience!
After an hour relaxing in the icy shallow pool by the gift shop, we made our way back to Black River after what had been an incredible weekend. What a way to begin my four week odyssey!
No comments:
Post a Comment