The Clydesdale ride

Ok, let me state up front, we did not go to Clydesdale. Nor sir, where we went on Sunday 25^th July had some of the worst roads I have ever seen in my life. This was all part of the Blue and John Crow Mountain range where bad roads are the regular feature. In Jamaica, road maintenance is a no no so whenever you go to areas where there is heavy rainfall and frequent landslides you know what to expect. So we never reached the final destination since the road to that section was virtually impassible, we were told.

It was a great outing however. Those mountains with their numerous shades of green, the mist kissing the hills, the absolutely gorgeous colours of the wild plants and the sprinkling of modest homes, some perched precariously on the hillside, are always a welcome sight. Not to mention the cool, pure, refreshing mountain air such a distinct contrast to what we breathe daily down here.

The road up to Gordon Town and Guava Ridge was reasonable. Then we started a non stop climb on horrible roads but through quiet, scenic, sparsely populated and quaint villages whose names I have forgotten except for the fairly large village of Content Gap.

We celebrated Michelle’s birthday two days early by cutting a delicious carrot cake donated by Betty in a bus stop along the way. That is where the fit ones also had their breakfast but people like myself who do not believe in starvation, had eaten the Juci breakfast that Chris (the driver) bought for us.

Incidentally, Andrew who had also jumped into a vehicle part way, reminded us that the 25^th July was the 1^st anniversary of our hike to the Blue Mountain peak when his girlfriend sprained both her ankles and he being super strong, carried her down the mountain on his back.

When we got to St. Peters which is a virtually abandoned village just below Clydesdale and we were advised not to go any further as they road to Clydesdale was unpaved and almost impassible. We were shown an alternate swimming spot in the Yallahs River which incidentally has its origin in that area, and all but me the cold enjoyed a swim.

In the meantime I tried to hike up to Clydesdale but when I got to a fork in the road, did not know which one to take so returned.

At St. Peters I was bombarded by residents who griped about the neglect by the MP and the fact that Chestervale youth camp was closed and that is where most people used to work or sell their supplies. That I was told was the reason for the deterioration in the area.

They also advised us not to return the way we had come as those roads were too bad and suggested that we go via Silver Hill to Section, Newcastle and Irish town. That too was a pleasant route and apart from the bad spot between St. Peters’ to Silver Hill, the roads were very much better.

Of course by then, the fun loving ones had joined me in vehicles while only the round the islanders rode all the way home.