Port Antonio, Jamaica and more...

What a difference a few days of land time can make for a non-sailor.  I have my land legs back and the walkabout around Port Antonio and the surrounding area has given me a completely new perspective of the Caribbean and its people..


The Stahlratte at the marina dock in Port Antonio..

 One of the smaller travelling boats...

 A beautiful sunset from the dock...

This old house, built in 1858, sits across the road from the guest house where most of the crew are staying while in Port Antonio.

A rented van, and a road trip was in the works...
I was a little unnerving driving on the (wrong) side of the road, and certainly some tenseness was expereienced by those of us in the back of the van..

Lots of homes which appeared to be extensive inside...

 Blue skies and warm days...

 Bananas and more bananas...

There appears to be many different layers of Christianity on the island, including  this version...

I wandered over to check out the wood of some exotic tree, and found this little Billy Goat Gruff living in the stump, or at least shading himself...

Please......

Did I mention the blue skies???

 This old trawler was being renovated from a commercial boat to a private yacht, one or two dollars at a time...

The owner had taken a rubber inflatable, and replaced the rubber with fiberglass and stripping....

We found a beach close to Ian Fleming  Airport, which just happened to be James Bond Beach.   I understand one of the Bond movies was filmed here....

I asked these guys if they knew anything about the history of the aircraft...but they weren't talking...

We headed out, looking for adventure....

 We arrived at 9 Mile, the site of Bob Marley's mausoleum.  I was intrigued with the wood that this shack was made from, and this fellow insisted on a photo...

We were in Rasta country...

And this means you....

Bob Marley is an industry that supports many aspects of the community....

 They may not be the Wailers, but this dude sported a Canada hat and put out some cool vibes...

"Bob Lives"...

 This is Bob's bedroom, when he was growing up in 9 mile...

 Apparently this is the rock that he spent many a day smoking and meditating, according to the guide...

A happy crowd of touristas...

 Many touristas were enjoying a smoke or two....

 There was a hole in the wall of the compound: joints going for $15 USD, and baggies for $60!  I sure hope that some of the dollars were going to the locals...but I suspect not...These kids were filling their packsack and pockets with weed.  I imagined them wondering how(when they get busted) did the cops know that they were stoned and packing...not that there was anything to signal "stoned freaks"...Ah the innocence of youth.

Our driver....

Little school out in the back country....

Lots of little houses in the mountains...

 And lots of Bob Marley references....

Small town Jamaica is very cool....

Jungle Jamaica is even cooler...

Finally, back to the ocean....

 Can you say vintage...

A Victorian front....

The famous Blue Lagoon of movie fame...(that's not Brooke Shields)

Unfortunately for the Jamaicans, all of the property if bought up by moguls of the land-based kind, and there is very little access for locals and the rest of us...

Somebody needs to do some work on this vessel...

A beautiful surfing and bathing beach just north of Port Antonio..

One of the Stahlratte travellers, minus her moto....

A surfing beach....

Carmen likes yellow and black bikes....

A good day at the beaches....

The Eastern  coast of Jamaica...

An ad outside of a beachfront bar...

I guess she hasn't seen too many old guys....

The day ended with a street scene and the biggest, loudest speakers that I have ever seen..These guys were dishing out the music...loud enough to be heard in Cuba.

 This Rasta man was beyond the music...

It was so loud that the decibels shook the colour out of the camera....

Big enough??

Yeah Mon....

Meanwhile, back at the Marina....

Big, Bigger, and Biggest...(at 15 million or so)

All of the riders and travellers are getting antsy to sail to Cuba and begin the journey around the Island.  The Stahlratte sets sail Sunday morning.  Good winds and God's speed should put us into Santiago by Tuesday...

Port Antonoio Jamaica...Mon

Stahlratte April 13...off Jamaica

On the evening of April 9^th, the bikes were loaded onboard without incident. While it was tough to watch Captain Ludwig mandhandle Blondy onto the rubber raft for the transport to the Stahlratte, I knew that he had done this transfer before, and he did know what he was doing.

The next morning, the moto people and the other travellers gathered at the dock for the embarkation from South America.

I was very pleased to see that the crew had done an excellent job of wrapping the bikes. There was no way that waves and water were going to drown the bikes...

Soon, we were underway and preparing to head for Jamaica...

Soon after leavetaking of Cartegana, the wind and the weather combined to serve me up with the biggest headache and case of nausea since my last drunk 26 years ago. Someone had asked me if I had my sea legs, and remembering the somewhat easy transit in December, I replied in the affirmtive.

After leaving the safety of the Cartgena headlands, and setting a course towards Jamaica, the winds picked up and the pitching of the boat was very noticeable to this Canuck, who lost all of his sea legs very quickly. Initially, I attributed my nausea and uneasiness to a bad hambuger that I had bought in the local square the night before. With the remains of the burger and anything else coming out of both ends, I sought some relief in my bunk. My bunk was forward in the bowels of the ship, and the rolling was just too much for my internal gyroscope, and I soon was looking for a better perch for the long night. I settled on a couch very near to the bathroom, knowing that I would be using it a lot during the night. I did not get any sleep the first night, and when the boat took and unusually big wave, I was thrown across the breadth of the boat. I remember sitting on the deck, thinking that a broken arm was a bitch of a way to end my ride. Fortunately, nothing on me was broken and I guess I had just been dreaming of the incident where my youngest son had broken his arm after a fall out of bunk on one of our beachombing expeditions off the west coast of Vancouver Island.

This was not the west coast, and the night was very long and stressful for most of the travellers as we struggled to adjust to the pitch and roll of the strong seas. The lack of sleep, a combination of another bout of food poisoning, and a definite case of sea sickness put me out of commission for the best part of three days. I would sleep fitifully, arise to pee and get some water, and then return to my bunk to try and regain some sort of sense of balance and to place the horizon in my brain where it should be, instead of the topsy-turvy messages that I was unable to decode sucessfully. Eating was out of the question, and while I was no longer up-chucking, I was not taking anything of substance in, either. After about 40 hours of heavy winds, the seas began to calm a bit, and on the third day, as they say, I arose to a better view of the world.

Heading for Panama??

A girl from Toronna at the helm...

The skipper decided to head around the western end of Jamaica, in order to avoid further headwinds..

Going fishing...

Look what flew into the boat....

 Making the turn around the northwestern tip and heading for port...

 Port Antonio,  Jamaica....

 Finally we land...