":Fun and Thrills" had planned to conquer the rugged Cockpit country by cycling from Duncans in Trelawny on Saturday 20th November, to Flagstaff, a forgotten maroon community tucked away ruin the hills of St. James. Here, according to recent news coming out of the tourism industry, are heritage trails which take you to the artifacts which are preserved to remind us of the courageous struggle the maroons put up to ward off the British invaders. Well
But I digress.
We too were warded off as we were told beforehand that the road to
So off we set at about 7 am Saturday morning. All went well as we rode easily through the picturesque countryside where sugar is king, to Wakefield, then guises, what, Charles the undisciplined one took off by himself towards Deeside instead of turning off to Friendship. As a result we had to wait a very long time as the support vehicle had to go to get him. Impatient, Michael also rode off to catch him and got a puncture in the rush, so we had a double delay at
After we left
The big challenge came on the road to Sherwood Content for the road was unpaved, and hilly most of the way. I am not ashamed to admit that on two occasions I pushed my bicycle uphill for a while and by the time I had reached Sherwood Content, I was totally exhausted. So after a threatened mutiny, Howie agreed to let us off the hook, that being carrying on to Duanvale and
After much struggle we got to the point where the peaceful, inviting,
We returned to Bodmint just minutes before 1pm and happily Charles the organizer had arranged for a chef and we had a delicious brunch waiting.
After that we decided to get a water massage under a waterfall that Charles had heard about when her he wandered off earlier. This was at as place called
Having been deterred from trying to get to the maroon village on bicycle, we decided to check if it was feasible by SUV. The road was certainly as bad as we had heard once you exited Trelawny and entered into the hills of deep rural St. James, their section of the cockpit country. After driving for what seemed to be hours (but probably was only about half hour) we finally saw signs of life. That sole life was an actual hermit by the name of Mr. Leslie. He seems to have been in his late 60's or early 70's but looked like he was as strong as an ox. The point is however, he had been living by himself deep in the bush since 1987 without human company, and horror of horrors, without electricity although we did hear a radio. He seemed quite happy though and even gave us some ripe bananas and plants. To each his own. However, when he told us that it was another 5 miles (of the same type of road) to the maroon village, we made an about turn.
That evening, Donna who now lives in
2 comments:
The standard of that toilet helps to show why Jonathan Bartley was voted the island's best mayor to the considerable chagrin of Desmond McKenzie.
I didn't know that. I agree with that vote as Desmond is pure mouth.
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