Jamaica - Blue Mountains (2/4)

The road to the Blue Mountains from Kingston was pretty tough but we took it slow on its turns and tiptoed around the obligatory potholes. What was more concerning was that we seemed to be driving up further than we thought that we should be. The accommodation gps coordinates showed it a little off the main road not too far from the town of Redlight but we hadn't seen any of the landmarks indicated in the directions. So we asked some folk for directions but they hadn't heard of our destination, turned around, asked more folk, got the answer that we needed to climb up the mountains more and finally found the turn-off. 

Driving in the mountains was, we discovered, a dance between taking it slow, tooting the horn and soliciting help from people on the roadside. Little shacks precariously balanced on whatever small bits of level land could be found and became bars where people hang out. These people were essential to check the way and also to get help in turning as some of the bends did require that we do three-point turns to make them. It's hard to imagine that the bars got too much custom as there were few cars up here which at least helped as finding room for cars to pass on the narrow road was a challenge.

The road we needed to take off the main road (the B1) was the most challenging. It was single lane with almost no passing points and steeply downhill. This was why we thought we didn't need to climb so high from the gps - this small road, a mix of gravel and dirt track, took us down in elevation a long way. We were both nervous about this but had no choice as sunset was fast approaching. At one point, we found a couple of kids on the road who came up to the car and asked us where we were going. We tried to explain and they figured that we were heading to Noel's, a name that didn't mean anything to us. We inched forward at low speed with the kids keeping pace and the crowd of kids grew until we came to a bend that was steep and incredible uneven and we really did not think we could make it. We parked off the road in a rare level bit of grass by another car that was clearly abandoned. The kids mobbed us. Meanwhile, Amy went on foot down the rough lane a little and found a group of young French men who said no way we could drive it. They were staying at the same place but left their vehicle up the road and walked the rest of the way. 

Amy called the destination and Michelle, our host. She said she'd send her husband out to help. We waited nervously with the kids as the sun got low in the sky. It didn't take long for the husband, who was Noel, to meet us, on foot. He spoke with a strange accent that was a mix of Jamaican and London (Brixton area I guess) and explained that he lived in the UK for a long time before returning to Jamaica. He drove our car the rest of the way, me in the back seat wincing every time the undercarriage hit the ground. I did not feel good about getting out again. 

The lane going to the Blue Mountain accommodation. This is actually one of the better bits.

It wasn't too far to the destination which was a coffee farm that clung to the steep hillside with a series of narrow man-made tiers. The buildings owed their presence to incredible concrete foundations. Noel took us to our abode, a little wooden cottage on two floors. I was a little shellshocked from the drive and tension and it took me a moment to adjust to understand what I was seeing which was an absolutely wonderful and quite luxurious home. The downstairs had bunk beds, a small table with two chairs, a kitchen with seating area looking out side the side of the mountain and a bathroom. And a button to turn the hot water heater on. Hot water! And outside, an external room (without a door but facing the jungle rather than a place where people would be) that had a bath in it. A bath! On the second floor was a large double bed and again views down the mountain side and open to the elements on two sides (Jamaica is a place that does not need pane glass in the windows). This cottage was just a piece of art in using local wood and integrating itself into the jungle.

Our cottage from the outside. All the buildings were built by Noel or at least designed/engineered by him and built by local hands including some teenagers learning the trade. Michelle said that when he was out here and she was back in the UK, he'd keep on putting up new buildings and she'd get frustrated and want him to stop. Noel described it though as a necessity to save the land as without the concrete, the land would eventually collapse with the rain storms.

The kitchen and living area. In the evenings, we sat on these seats and played cards. In the mornings, we ate breakfast and read. It was a really nice spot to be.

Noel wasn't done building on this slope. 

We ate well that evening on the provisions we bought in Black River and rapidly revised our expectations of this part of the holiday. Perhaps we wouldn't be driving back down to Kingston and visiting the city after all. Perhaps we'd stay put and never leave and so never have to face the road again?

After a glorious night of sleep, enjoying the slightly cooler mountain temperature, we breakfasted on wonderfully ripe papaya and head out on foot to discover more about the area. We found some local falls where we watched for a while a hummingbird making a nest. But in general we didn't go too far. 

Amy at the falls. She said that she preferred these to YS Falls as we were the only ones there besides the industrious hummingbird making it feel more like a private and magical moment.

We stayed in the cottage and the communal area (where there was wifi) all afternoon. It was a good chill day followed by another meal. 

The communal area under the main house where Michelle and Noel lived. There were other buildings for guests that didn't have kitchens and this communal area had a kitchen they could use. This area also had books and wifi. The French crowd left after the first night we were there and another couple left the night after so we had a couple of days with the place to ourselves.

On the second day, Noel gave us a tour of some of the land and then set us to making coffee. We pounded the beans with a stick to loosen them from the chaff, picked out the bad beans and then roasted them for over an hour. During this time we chatted to Noel and watched hummingbirds. After we were done, we sat and drank some of their coffee though not the beans we roasted (which we were later given in little bags to take away as mementos). Amy thought that the roast was too uneven but was too polite to say. I just thought that it tasted of coffee and wasn't too enamoured until I added a lot of sugar to it. But it was still a very special activity that neither of us expected and Noel's generosity of time and beans was noteworthy.

Noel roasting. We tried to do what we could but neither of us could keep the stirring of the beans up for very long without taking a rest and those beans were at risk of being burnt... so Noel ended up doing most of the work alas.

I took time that afternoon to hike to two more local waterfalls without Amy. It was really very hot and I pushed myself quite hard on this hike. En route I saw how the locals lived. Not everyone lived on a road and there were plenty of homes only accessible on foot on these hiking trails. There were plenty of people gathered at the lowest of the two falls I saw. People would check in on me if they passed me to ensure I was not lost and we'd always end up having a lengthy exchange on where I was from, how I found Jamaica etc. I am not sure if they were suspicious of me or not but it came across as welcoming and friendly. I started to ease more into Jamaica here and breathed a little easier starting to understand the importance of hospitality to their culture.

A residence on the trail I took down the mountainside. Electricity was often being tapped off the line illegally according to Michelle who said they were a rare legitimate customer but I also saw a lot of what looked like amateurish tapping but connected to a meter mounted on a concrete pillar. Regardless, these homes all seemed to be electrified even if they were remote and hard to get to except on foot.

That evening we took advantage of an offer to have a local person cook for us. Her daughters delivered food in containers and it took us two nights to get through it. Great stuff. We weren't too sure what they would have thought with how we ate the festivals (a deep fried bread I thought a bit like a doughnut) though. We added sugar and lemon juice to them and ate them for dessert but they are meant to be eaten as part of a savory meal. We also supplemented our Black River purchases with foraged fruits (mangoes and a grapefruit) and some plantains and lemons from Noel and so managed not to need to shop during our stay in the mountains.

Our final day in the mountains was spent in Holywell park. This was our main draw to the area. The Blue Mountains are an UNESCO World Heritage Site and this park had a couple of short hikes. However it wasn't really worth the drive up there (which Amy did as I was still not happy with the steep and rough lane up back to the main road) as the place we were staying at was actually more beautiful. Still, we got some nice views of Kingston and got in some exercise. The information available at the park was laughable for example we found boards showing us photos of mushrooms labelled "mushrooms" and in fact one board had empty squares on it inviting the visitor to fill the squares in themselves with what they discover. 

There was space here for camping and views south to Kingston.

We picked up some stranded travelers in Holywell- a French couple who were using taxis to get around. The taxi didn't seem to want to pick them up citing breakdown (which apparently is code for can't be bothered) so they got into our car. Amy and I were baffled at their level of trust. We took them down our dirt lane to the middle of nowhere and abandoned them on a hiking trail they weren't familiar with. I recognised their destination (RafJam) as being one I passed through on my hike to falls the previous day and knew it would get them there but their faces when they realised they didn't have a clue where they were did make me worry a bit that they would panic and get lost. I hope they made it.

On the upper, better-paved portion of the road to the coffee farm, we came across some work on the electrical system replacing a transformer. We needed to wait a few minutes for them to clear during which time I got out and chatted to one of the locals that was just hanging out on the corner, as they did. By this point of the holiday I realised that this was what you did in Jamaica. Every moment was an opportunity to make a friend. Meanwhile, the French couple in the backseat were gently starting to panic.

The time we spent in the mountains was a sweet highlight for me. The lower temperatures and beautiful cottage with a good kitchen, hot water, bath plus the food we bought, foraged and were gifted and the generous people we met like Noel and indeed all those random souls helping us with hairpin turns and in passing other vehicles.

Leaving was a sad affair. I made Amy do the tough driving on the B1 through the rest of the mountains to the north coast. The roads were dreadfully potholed for a segment and the dappled light coming through the trees didn't help to spot them. But the mountains really were beautiful. When we hit the north coast at Buff Bay, I took over the easy drive on the coastal roads to our next destination: Boston Bay near Port Antonio.

B1 road through the mountains as driven by Amy adroitly avoiding the potholes. - video not showing up? Try the link.