724 Kilometres - 21 Days
1 October – 28 October 2014
MAP
PHOTOS
1
October - Boston, USA – Montego Bay, Jamaica - By plane
I
was thrilled as this was the day I was to leave the Americas in search of
warmer weather. I packed my belongings into a single bag and Steve was dead on
time to drive me to the airport for my flight to Jamaica via New York City.
Everything went smoothly except for Delta Airlines charging me for my luggage.
Only one carry-on bag was free; the first checked bag cost $25, while the bike
cost an additional $150! This made the flight quite expensive, but at least
they didn't weigh the luggage.
During
the flight, one could see the incredibly clear blue ocean far below. The water
was so clear that it was possible to see the sandy bottom. The tiny islands
looked idyllic and, then suddenly, there it was - Jamaica!
Before
being allowed into the country, I had to purchase an onward ticket. So, I
bought a ticket to Miami at the end of November, hoping to give me enough time
to cycle Jamaica and Cuba. At the time, the United States prohibited one from
flying to and from Cuba, so I had to plan ahead.
Once
done, I collected my bag and bike and hailed a taxi to Gloriana’s. Unfortunately,
when I opened the bike box, I found that the bike shop had taken the entire bicycle
apart. I didn't have the right tools or knowledge to reassemble the bicycle, so
I did what I could and then searched for a bicycle shop.
2-3
October - Montego Bay, Jamaica
The
following morning, I savoured my Blue Mountain coffee at a Hibiscus-adorned
table and felt like a million dollars. So good was it that I stayed an
additional day. In true Jamaican style, I lazily contemplated what next to do.
Ultimately, I sauntered the short distance to downtown, which sported a smidgen
of Jamaican history, and a supermarket to stock up on a few needed items.
Sadly,
the slave trade is very much a part of Jamaican history. By the 18th century,
Jamaica was one of the most valuable British colonies. However, the conditions
endured by the slaves were horrendous. Families were routinely separated, and housing
and sanitary conditions were dreadful. Beatings and torture were rampant and many
died from overwork and starvation. The life expectancy of an enslaved West
African in Jamaica was only seven years!
By
the time the slavery trade was abolished in 1807, almost two million slaves
were brought to Jamaica, with thousands dying on slave ships. Then, after
nearly 250 years of resistance, emancipation from slavery was finally won in
1838. The Europeans were brutal.
Returning,
I trundled past numerous beach bars where rum came in all colours, shapes and
sizes, but I was in no mood to enjoy this novelty.
4
October - Montego Bay – Fisherman’s Inn - 42 km
The
weather was already sweltering when I cycled out of Montego Bay. Progress was
slow as I stopped at beachside bars to get water and chat with villagers.
Falmouth,
a typical Jamaican town with a long history, had a few old buildings. It was still
too hot to explore, so I continued along the coast. The village of Rock is home
to a phosphorous lagoon, where one can see phosphorescence at night. I opted
for the Fisherman’s Inn and waited until darkness to witness the spectacle. Unfortunately,
the Fisherman’s Inn was neglected, with scarcely anyone about, but still, I didn’t
complain as the room was inexpensive, right on the lagoon and it sported a
lovely pool. Luckily, a convenience store at the gas station supplied an
inexpensive evening meal.
Later,
rain started bucketing down, and the boat never went out. I was immensely sad
about the missed opportunity.
5 -
7 October - Fisherman’s Inn – Ocho Rios - 77 km
True
to my nature, I couldn’t wait another day and cycled to Ocho Rios. The weather
was blistering hot, so the going was slow, and the hills I encountered slowed my
pace even further. But, at least butterflies darted around my head, not flies
as in other parts of the world.
Besides
the oppressing heat, the day was fascinating. Past Runaway and Discovery Bay I
cycled, where vendors sold the ever-present Jerk Chicken accompanied by rice
and beans. In Jamaica, there’s no stopping without someone striking up a
conversation. Soon, I was invited to stay the night, but I declined and proceeded
to Ocho Rios.
Ocho
Rios’ well-located and aptly named Reggae Hostel is a stone’s throw from the
beach and right in the town centre. The hostel was pretty laid-back, and
practically everyone stayed longer than planned, so I booked a dive for the
following day.
The scuba
diving was spectacular and revealed the most extraordinary visibility. The
water was crystal clear and offered an abundance of colourful fish. So fabulous
was the dive, I straightaway booked a dive for the next day as I thought it was
well worth the effort and money.
At
the hostel, I was presented with a bracelet in Jamaican colours from Sheldon (a
kind Jamaican guy) and his girlfriend. How awesome is that?
8
October - Ocho Rios – Port Maria - 45 km
I couldn’t
stay in Ocho Rios forever, so I made my way along the coast. I didn’t get far before
being flagged down and offered accommodation.
The
Jamaicans have the most charming way of addressing a person. One could often
hear them call out: “Be careful, young lady” or “Hello, pretty girl, you need a
room?” even to an old hag like me. But then, it’s not to be taken literally; it’s
their general way of addressing people.
The
area where I bunked down was pretty rural but offered stunning views and a
surprisingly modern abode. As I was operating in low gear, I stayed the night
and listened to reggae music and watched Jamaicans rolling and smoking their
joints while slowly swaying to the rhythm of the music. I love the Jamaican
way, slow to move but quick to smile. Later, I biked the three or so kilometres
into Port Maria, picked up food, and discovered that the entire town knew my
whereabouts. But then, I guessed a white woman on a bike can hardly slip under
the radar in Jamaica.
9 -
10 October - Port Maria – Port Antonio - 78 km
The route
swung inland over the hills, past rural settlements seemingly untouched by the coast’s
lively tourist trade. My path soon spat me out at a beach, from where the way led
to Port Antonio. As my bike had problems, I looked for a bike shop, but sadly they
were closed. The town was a bit of a dump, mainly because of roadworks, which
turned the whole place into a muddy mess.
The next
day, I stopped by the bike shop, where the staff adjusted the gears as best
they could.
Although
I was barely in Jamaica for two weeks, I could easily see myself living there. Its
picture-postcard scenery, coupled with the kind people, food, music and culture,
made me fall in love with the island right from the start. I sauntered to the
marina, savouring not merely the occasional waft of marijuana but the aromatic
smoke from the innumerable jerk stands.
11
October - Port Antonio – Morant Bay - 75 km
A
traditional breakfast in Jamaica consists of saltfish and ackee (a fruit), accompanied
by callaloo (a spinach-like vegetable known as marog in South Africa) and a
side plate of yam, dumplings, and plantain. Both ackee and callaloo are from
West Africa and likely arrived in Jamaica on one of the slave ships. Still, it
didn’t make the tastiest of meals for vegetarians.
Again,
a narrow, potholed road hugged the coast for practically 40 kilometres until veering
inland over the hills towards Morant Bay. In the process, the route passed the
famous Blue Lagoon, where I stopped for a dip. Sadly, I didn’t resemble the
14-year-old Brooke Shields in the movie of the same name. Still, the water was
as crystal clear as portrayed in the film.
12
October - Morant Bay – Kingston - 65 km
Loading
the bike was at leisure as the distance to Kingston was short. But, again, the
day was a stinker as the path followed the coastal route, which deteriorated
the closer it got to Kingston. Mercifully, being Sunday, the traffic was light.
But, while slaving up one of the few nasty hills, a bee flew under my cap and
stung me on the eyelid.
Once
in the city, I hunted down the Reggae Hostel, situated on the outskirts of town
but still within walking distance of shops. I was pleasantly surprised to
recognise travellers I had met in Ocho Rios (it’s a small island, after all).
The following
day, I woke with my eye swollen, virtually shut. A pharmacy provided
antihistamine syrup, but it made me sleepy, and I refrained from retaking it. Apart
from party, there wasn’t much to do in Kingston, and I only stayed one more day,
doing the routine rest day chores and discovering all there was to see in famous
Kingston Town.
14
October - Kingston – Milk River Spa - 88 km
Instead
of taking the main road, I opted for the seldom-travelled coastal route. But,
again, the comments and looks I received along the way indicated that not merely
was this a less visited area, but a white woman on a bicycle was a rarity.
Milk
River, a tiny community sporting a few churches and a large school, signalled
the end of the day’s ride. A sign indicated a hotel and spa and “The best hotel
in the world”. Judging by the condition of the signs, I didn’t expect much, but
I still investigated.
The
hotel was intriguing. It featured a few private baths in an old wooden building
offering comfortable but sparsely decorated rooms along a creaky veranda. It
was rumoured the water provided a cure for numerous ailments and I wasted no
time submerging myself. The room rate included dinner and breakfast, something I
was happy about as I was ravenous. Being the sole guest, I was treated like
royalty.
15
October - Milk River Spa – Junction - 44 km
Before
departing, I had one final dip in the hot spring before following the coastal path
further west.
The
route led past God’s Well, a deep sinkhole. It’s rumoured to be inhabited by the
ghosts of a Taino maiden and a scuba diver (unrelated) who drowned there whilst
trying to establish the depth of the well. A short while later, I stopped at
Alligator Pond for lunch. Little Ochi was a popular restaurant where one could
order freshly caught fish on the beach. Here, tables were in brightly painted
boats upon stilts, and reggae music blared from a rickety timber bar.
Following
lunch, I set off up the mountain in the stinking midday heat. The climb was steep,
and the way was in poor condition. People called me in to rest and advised me to
take a taxi as, according to them, Treasure Beach wasn’t reachable by bicycle.
I very nearly believed them as the going was dreadfully slow and exhausting. Upon
slinking into Junction, I spotted a guesthouse and called it a day. The place was
cheap but comfortable, and I was grateful for the pool in the oppressing heat.
16
October - Junction – Treasure Beach - 30 km
I
emerged at first light to do the remainder of the climb in the cooler morning
air. Unfortunately, I soon discovered there was no such thing as “cooler
morning air”, as the weather was already sweltering. There were days I honestly
doubted my sanity, and this was one of them. In the heat, I wrestled the bike
up the hills. Like the previous day, villagers informed me it wasn’t possible
to get to Treasure Beach by bicycle. Fortunately, only one hill remained, and I
descended to the coast.
Surprisingly
dry and barren, the area looked distinctly African, with thorn trees and goats
roaming about.
Treasure
Bay was home to a few beachside restaurants and guesthouses. Luckily, it wasn’t
“all-inclusive”—there were no lounge chairs on the beach, only a few fishing
boats. I discovered a place on the beach and kicked back in the shade for the
remainder of the day.
18
October - Treasure Beach – Black River - 30 km
A
short cycle brought me to Black River, where I bunked down at Waterloo
guesthouse, built in 1819 and reputed to have been the first place in Jamaica
to have electricity. Black River is a tiny but interesting settlement, providing
a smidgen of a promenade and a few old wooden buildings dating back to
Jamaica’s early days.
The
reason for overnighting in Black River was to take a boat up the Black River
and into the Great Morass, a fascinating boat ride featuring plenty of birdlife
and a fair share of crocodiles.
19 -
20 October - Black River – Negril – 75 km
The following
day, my route continued along the coast to Negril, Jamaica’s party town, where
everything was overpriced and immensely touristy. Still, the Caribbean Sea’s
crystal-clear water lured me in, and the remainder of the day was spent floating
in the ocean.
It’s
not unusual in Jamaica to see middle-aged ladies strolling hand in hand in the
company of a handsome young stud. Jamaica is a place where ladies can rent-a-dread
or rastitute, as it’s called. Countless European women have ongoing
relationships and return regularly to Jamaica, similar to older European men frequenting
Thailand for the ladies.
21
October - Negril – Montego Bay - 75 km
My
last day of cycling offered an easy and interesting ride to Montego Bay. The
road hugged the coast, and I got caught in a heavy downpour. Not bad, considering
October was one of the wettest months in Jamaica.
As
the rain came pouring down, curio sellers called me in to take shelter, and I wasted
no time accepting their generosity. As soon as the rain abated, I investigated
the nearby Tryall waterwheel. This massive Tryall waterwheel is approximately
200 years old and still turning.
Once
in Montego Bay, I returned to Gloriana’s as it was the best-priced abode I
could find. In addition, the next flight to Cuba was only in a week, leaving me
plenty of time to explore.
22 -
28 October - Montego Bay
Jamaica's
temperatures scarcely change from one day to the next and remain around 25 to
30 degrees Celsius year-round. In October, clouds generally gather in the
evenings, followed by thunderstorms that never last more than an hour or two.
Amazingly, all this happens with virtually no change in temperature.
With
so much time, I popped into the nursery, offering many colourful and exotic
plants. The tropical Caribbean climate in Jamaica facilitates a diverse
ecosystem. When the Spanish arrived in 1494, the country was deeply forested
apart from small agricultural clearings. The European settlers cut down the
trees for building purposes and cleared the plains, savannahs and mountain
slopes for cultivation. New plants were introduced, but, thank goodness, a few indigenous
plants survived.
In
the days to follow, I walked the streets of Mobay, packed with curio stalls all
selling similar items. The interesting part was that on cruise ship days, the
prices almost doubled, and it was not a good idea to go shopping on those days.
In the meantime, I searched for a bike box but couldn’t find any. So, in the
end, I stuck two fridge boxes together, hoping they wouldn’t fall apart before arriving
in Cuba.
29
October - Montego Bay, Jamaica – Havana, Cuba - By plane
The taxi ride to Montego Bay airport
couldn’t have been more than five kilometres from the hotel. Mercifully, the
airport had a wrapping service as I doubted whether my homemade bike box, held
together by duct tape, would last.
From the start, it was clear Cuba was a
different cup of tea. The first thing I noticed was the abundance of space on
the plane, which is quite a rarity today. One could even spread out to snooze
before descending into Cuba. Next, we witnessed a most unusual sunset, revealing
well-organised farmlands below (I guess they were tobacco fields).
Clearing customs and immigration was
exceptionally easy. Then, with the formalities done, I excitedly hailed a taxi
to Hostal Peregrino, situated in an old building in Centro Havana. You can
imagine my surprise when I rang the bell and a key tied to a string was lowered
from the window above. This marked the start of a remarkable
visit to fascinating Cuba.
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