26 September 2006 22:35
Saturday afternoon found me in the parking lot at Jack Sprats with the rest of the group (Rick, Karen, Isaac, Brooke, & Michelle). Not only were we using Jack Sprat's parking lot, but we used their showers/changing rooms as well, figuring the "For patrons only" sign wouldn't trouble us since we had every intention of eating there. Eventually.
He was easygoing yet still fairly efficient...somewhat of an odd combination in Jamaica. We settled on a price and then he and a couple kids pulled the boat as close to the beach as they could get it so we could pile in. I didn't think to pace the boat off for its length when I had the chance later, but I'm guessing it was roughly 25' long--fiberglass shell with five bench seats that could seat three abreast.We worked our way gingerly past the barely submerged rock outcroppings sprinkled liberally throughout the cove and then moved to parallel the coast a quarter mile out. The swells were coming in on our left rear which did nothing for our stability as the boat repeatedly wanted to wallow 30 degrees to the right. Then there was this lovely rolling to starboard as Neely would force her back on course with the rudder as the face of the next swell came in. (You'll have to forgive any errors in my vocabulary; my knowledge of all things seafaring is fairly sketchy).
The water calmed down once we entered the shelter of Parottee Bay; which, in addition to being situated on the lee side of the island, is also protected by a series of shoals that extend fairly far out to sea. On one of these shoals there's a waist deep area three quarters of a mile out that is host to the Pelican Bar. (I actually found a video here, I skimmed through it, but don't claim responsibility if there's anything sketchy in it). After passing between the bar and the shoreline, we continued on a course for the mouth of the Black River.Forty-five minutes after leaving Treasure Beach, we were entering the mouth of the river. It was an odd perspective, seeing the same boats and shops and bridges from the water level that I'm familiar with seeing from above on the streets. Neely exchanged a couple of boisterous greetings with friends hanging out on the waterfront and we glided under the new bridge connecting Black River with the main road to southwest St. Elizabeth. It's not new having a bridge there, but the physical structure itself is yet young...it opened sometime last year after a very long stint under construction while a second temporary bridge was in use right next to it. Past the bridge were the half-dozen tour boats lined up at rest along the bank. (Us chartering a boat all the way from Treasure Beach was somewhat the long way to go about it, I think most tours start from the river mouth).
It wasn't long before the boy standing in the bow called out to Neely who immediately let off the throttle to drift by a crocodile floating right up against the reeds in the water's edge. Personally I don't care too much about seeing them, or rather, it's not an end-all be-all. Still, it's apparently what gets oohs and ahhs out of the tourists, because Neely and his crew of eyes were pretty good at spotting and pointing out the crocs for the rich outta-towners. The wetlands themselves were pretty interesting though, in a "this is very interesting and beautiful but I'm glad I'm going home to dry land in an hour". Scenes from various movies filmed in the Louisiana bayou or the Florida everglades came to mind--scenes I was all the more glad I wouldn't have to live out. Murky waters filled with who knows what critters and bottomed with some slime that ain't seen sunlight since who know's when...un-hunh, not for this boy.
Meanwhile we gracefully s-turned our way through the wandering curves of Black River. So-named for its appearance, the water's actually clear but the dirt (slime) on the bottom doesn't do very good at reflecting light. It's the second-longest river in Jamaica (a whopping forty-four miles), but we only went a short way up. I don't know for sure, but I'm guessing we were about halfway up between the town of Black River and Lacovia. Grass, lilies, and a lot of very cool mangroves. The mangroves were the only thing that made me want to get out of the boat, at points their roots were more than thick enough to crawl around on for quite a ways without getting one's feet wet. Although, if they're like most other Jamaican trees, then they're host to very populous colonies of ants and a myriad assortment of lil' critters with too many legs for cohabitation of the same tree with me.
We turned around at the first bridge we came to several miles upstream from the town of Black River. Brooke and Michelle were familiar with the small shop located at the water's edge run by Sister Lou. We enjoyed some Ting and fruit drinks before piling back in to head downriver. The light was fading as the sun had already descended behind a storm cell west-northwest of the island. The trip towards the bay seemed to go a lot quicker, even discounting time for crocodile stops on the way up. I spent more time actually looking with my eyes, since I no longer had enough light to shoot even marginally sharp pictures by.
Despite the drop in air temperature as dusk fell, we soon moved from the river mouth out into the bay where the ocean water was still warming the air in the first five or so feet above the surface. Swirling through alternating pockets of warm and warmer air, the ride all the way back to Treasure Beach was actually comfortable temperature wise, despite being slightly damp from salt spray. Full night fell after we'd rounded Parottee Point and were headed southeast into the much more open sea hitting the south coast. We were facing directly into the swells now and Neely had to jockey the throttle to keep the ride as smooth as possible, easing off after each crest to soften the return to earth.
St. Elizabeth slopes from the Santa Cruz Mountains at 2600' westward down to sea level. From our position a half mile out from the coast we had a full view of the lights from the shore all the way up to Southfield. There was a lot of ambient glow from haze refracting the scattering of lights, a glow that contrasted with the darkness of the Caribbean sea lit only by starlight and the occasional flicker of lightning from the cumulonimbus cell still active west of the island. Having never been out in a small boat at night before, it was a novel experience for me. Actually; having never been out in a small boat with no running lights, a life-jacket I doubted would keep me afloat, at a distance well beyond the extent of my swimming ability from shore, and with nobody on dry land knowing where we'd gone or even that we had gone--I had to ask myself whether this was the most brilliant thing I'd ever done. My next thought was to wonder how long it would be until the coast guard showed up to investigate a small boat with no running lights skirting an island with a notorious drug-running problem.
I had a good laugh over that one. I’ve never seen the JDF Coast Guard out and about, and if the US was running an op of some sort or another down here they’d more than likely have sensitive enough equipment to realize our boat was hauling too many warm bodies to be running drugs. I enjoyed the ride regardless as we bounced our way past the brightly lit houses on the shore. I’d turn around occasionally to watch the lightning, but mostly just watched the shoreline going by. Our particular bay was marked with a grounded bouy that had a green beacon on it. There was a resort at the west end of the bay, but even though the bay was small there wasn’t much light cast in our direction. Neely eased through the shoals more by memory than sight, but we wound up on the beach safe and sound.
We waited around until Neely’d stowed his boat with the other three or four, a process involving two cables from separate points on the shore to anchor the boat about forty feet out in the water (it was all of waist deep there). He also removed the fuel tanks and seat cushions, but left the outboard--after he’d removed the propeller. Theft deterrent I assume. Note to self: when stealing Neely’s boat, I need to remember to bring a propeller. Our sole light source during the entire packing up process came from somebody’s Nokia cell phone which had a weak LED flashlight. The owner of said light was kind enough to show us the way out to the road. We’d come by way of the beach, but getting from our current bay next door to the one at Jack Sprats that way would’ve involved some rock scramble by light of the new moon.
Back in the parking lot at Jack Sprats we utilized the changing rooms again before proceeding to order pizza. The pizza was good (so were the left-overs the next day), and we had a nice quiet and relaxing dinner talking about whatever came to mind and listening to the ocean behind us. My thoughts did tend to dwell on the 2.5+ hour drive facing me, but we wound up surviving that.
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