Showing posts with label Cudjoe hill. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cudjoe hill. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Of Caving,Thai kids, Omens and, Claustrophobia



Entrance to Blue Hole, Westmorland
What I think will be the most memorable story for 2018, is what I dub the Cave Event in Thailand.

In brief, On June 23, 2018, 12 young soccer players ranging in ages from 11-16, who went exploring the six-mile-long Than Luang cave complex at a park in Northern Thailand along with their 25-year-old coach, went missing.


For ten nail-biting days parents and indeed the  entire world, anxiously followed the progress of searchers from that country plus numerous international volunteers, many of them experienced divers, as they braved the murky waters inside the flooded caverns, squeezed through narrow twisting tunnels, climbed sharp ledges at great peril to themselves, but despite not finding them for days, they refused to give up hope and just kept going.
All geared up to enter Green Grotto cave, Discovery Bay, Jamaica
 
Miraculously, on July 2nd, they were spotted by two British divers, fearful and hungry but thankfully safe, on a high ledge deep inside the cave.  

After feeding and giving them medical assistance, the rescuers were faced the awesome task of getting them out of the flooded caverns, a journey of some three miles, without even knowing how many of the stranded youth could actually even swim. 


This was a dangerous and staggering task that had to be completed quickly too, as the rescuers soon realized that oxygen levels were being rapidly depleted. Further, the rainy monsoon season was due to begin in days, thus further flooding the caves, despite the effort being undertaken to use a massive pump to get out the millions of gallons  of water already inside the flooded caverns.

Outside the Guadirikiri Caves in Aruba
At one point, it was even feared that they would have to keep the boys inside for months for their own safety as getting them out looked too dangerous. And it was indeed dangerous, as a former Thai Petty Officer,  Saman Gunam,  unfortunately, lost consciousness on his way out, after delivering air tanks inside the cave to facilitate the rescue.

Sadly,  Saman  Gunam later died.


Finally thanks to the skills and technology of  dozens of 
Engineers, geologists, military persons, health care volunteers etc from all over the world, assigning two divers to each boy and medicating the young people so they would not panic in the murky waters, all the boys and their youthful coach were rescued on 
July 10th 2018.

Inside Two Sisters cave, Hellshire
And would you believe that the pump that had been taking out the water from the cave to facilitate their exit, broke down almost immediately after the last person was rescued? This caused the water to start rising rapidly to the point where experienced divers who had gone back inside to recover the gear that was left inside, had to exit quickly to save their own lives!

Eerie isn't it?

Considering all this happened during the exciting  FIFA World Cup which was being played out in Russia and in which upsets have been the order of the day, I couldn't help wondering if this event involving the young Thai soccer players was some kind of omen. 

Marking inside the cave at  Cudjoe Hill, St. Catherine, made by the Tainos in Jamaica before Columbus arrived and wiped them out. Nanny's brother Cudjoe also hid out in that cave for months, when the British were trying  to capture and subjugate the Maroons. 

For example, could it be that in four or eight years, Thailand, a rank outsider in the soccer world, could become a world beater or this young soccer team would eventually represent their county at World Cup? 

I hope I will be around to find out if this was really a soccer omen!

While I know this drama held the attention of people all over the world for all sorts of reasons, for me it was especially eye-opening in understanding my own self!

For I am an enigma in that, although I tend to be extremely claustrophobic, I actually enjoy caving. 

Native Americans built fascinating abodes in the caves at Mesa Verde

However get this clear, when I say caving I do not mean I am a spelunker.


 No sir, I don't go into unexplored caves to study anything. I just like to go into well-established caves with professional guides to look and learn.


However, its is only since the incident with these boys that I realize that my love of exploring the underground and claustrophobia just cannot co-exist! 

For it has never occurred to me before that something like a flood or earthquake could occur while I was under the ground.... especially in my homeland, Jamaica, which sits on a serious seismic fault.

One of the caves along the Cuna Cuna trail in which Nanny hid for months

I cannot even conceive of how I would survive trapped underground for an hour much less 10 days. 

In fact, I have no doubt that I would actually go crazy if I was trappedn underground, anywhere.


This Thai drama has caused me to have a great deal of respect and admiration for those Thai youth who all seem to be in reasonably good spirits, despite being trapped in the dark, no bathroom, no food and not knowing if they would ever come out alive! 

What a terrible 10 days that must have been. 


This has also prompted me to have even greater respect for Jamaica's only female National Heroine, Nanny of the Maroons.


She led the Maroons in Jamaica to victory against the British in the early 1700's when they defeated the Spanish, captured the island and tried to re-enslave the former slaves who the Spaniards had transported from Africa to work on their plantations.

It was the complex caving system that the Maroons studied, which helped them in their struggles, as they were able to strategically select those caves which had water inside, in which they could hide for months on end while waiting to ambush and kill the  British soldiers. 


It was not until hearing about the Thai youth and seeing their plight in living color that I got a much greater appreciation for the suffering that Nanny and her people had to endure, as they hid from the oppressors.


As for me, will I continue going into caves? 

Maybe not right now. Luckily, I have been into all the interesting caves in Jamaica but maybe later if I am in another country and hear about a fascinating cave, who knows what will happen?
You have to ascend many steps to reach the entrance of Hato Cave, Curacao

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Never a Dull Moment

I could just see the "Star" headline 'Well Known Bridge Champion Caught With Stolen Car" or better yet "Wife of Criminal Attorney Heads Car Stealing Ring".  


Seriously though, sometimes we forget we live in Jamaica and take these things for a joke when they could be lethal, for had that the "stolen" car not being driven by a lady  but instead by one one of the regular male drivers  the the headline could most likely read  read "Car Thief Shot After Attacking Police with bicycle Pump". So we need to thank god for small mercies and that all ended well.

This was the potential dramatic ending to a wonderful weekend of riding, swimming, eating and frolicking as the members of "Fun and Thrills Adventure Club" rode out in search of fun over the Emancipendence Holidays.

On Emancipation Day, we the sane ones, rode to Caymanas river while the crazies pushed their bikes up to Hollywell.
lol (based on the pictures I saw!)

Caymanas ride was easy and uneventful. I was at Dunrobin at 6.30am as arranged only to see poor Nicole Thompson there as she had been told to meet the other riders at 6.15am.

I had to remind her that there is Jamaica time and then there is Fun and Thrills time. As we waited, up drove Neville anxiously asking if we had seen his sister Lisa as their father Ayatollah had sent him to find her. (Lisa only recently started riding).

Although Nicole assured him she had not passed, full of anxiety, he drove off searching for her. About fifteen minutes later she arrived, amply protected under Pat's riding wing.

All went well until we got to the river where there was rope across the gate and a young man thought he should shake me down for an entry fee of $150.00. When I informed him that the fee was for parking and I was riding, he told me things had changed and we had to pay to swim.

As I started to enter, he tried to block me, but I had to warn him that if he touched me it would be assault, so he sullenly stepped aside. Then he stepped aside for Sheriff but kept the other eight or ten rides who came up after, sweating at the gate.

They eventually got in without paying and all went well at the river although, because of the drought, it was quite shallow.


That suited Theresa fine however as despite all her attempts at diving, she never went below the surface of the water!                                                                                                                       I had actually decided to ride back to Kingston but when I was ready, I discovered that my back tire was punctured. The Ayatollah loaned me his bicycle, but the seat was a bit low and although I did manage to ride to as far as New Haven, when Neville drove up, I jumped into his support vehicle.                                                                                                                                    Being out of it, I only heard the next day that poor Aswaria had an accident and have to get 7 stitches on her foot. She is a good sport so I hope she will be back on her bike soon.


On Sunday we had a more difficult ride, this time to Mountain River Cave. 

As usual, the group was late so when Chully and Chuck rode up, I took off with them. Chuck stopped off at Jose Marti round-about to wait for the others, but we continued until we got to just below Dovecot and saw David waiting with a support vehicle and Grace all saddled up and ready to ride.

I later had her eating crow as she swore to Chully that it would be a flat ride all the way as "She drove that route every day for one term."

Flat ride my foot, it was mostly hill and it is the first time in recent history that I went thorough 4 containers of water.


Chully with his macho-self, rode away and left me just outside Kitson town and as we neared Guanabo Vale, Donovan caught up with me and I stayed with him. We were running out of water then Larry and his sister drove up and gave us a little, just enough to take us to the bottom of Cudjoe hill where Delroy,  a former tenant of mine, lives.

He loaded us up with water and to tell the truth, as the sun was really billowing down, had he not told me it was just a mile left 'and not a country mile either," to our destination, I might have given in to my normal inclination and jumped into an air-conditioned auto.

But I kept struggling up the hill. When we were almost at the top, Donovan's vehicle drove up and he headed to get his fluids then changed his mind and jumped into the vehicle although I assured him that we had less than quarter mile to go.

Alrick and I suspect, Maurice (aka RIBI,) lost money off me as they had expected to see me arriving in a vehicle, but I rode up in fine style only to find out that Chully who had left me in the dust did not ride up the hill, neither did Sean who has become quite a strong rider although he rides infrequently.

After a good breakfast, a lot of clothing material (claats!) were being described by Ayatollah for Barry had taken away his vehicle to go to his farm and it had the swimming clothes for Chully and Fatman.

 I left him ranting and raving and walked down the treacherous path to the river, followed by Alrick and RIBI. I actually had hoped to take the easy route to the river which is beyond the huge rocks that others relish climbing down, but unfortunately the easy route is now overgrown and I was attacked by burrs and insects and had to return with my tail between my legs to where we have to climb down over the huge rocks.

I must admit though, F&T has some real gentlemen, so all was well but (rider) Stanford refused to climb down the rocks so missed a great swim and frolic in the water, which was again quite shallow because of the drought.

As we enjoyed the water and camaraderie, the air was pierced by a blood curdling scream as Bernadette had gone into the cave behind the waterfall and encountered some little 2 inch fish and let out such a scream that would have led a man from Mars to think she had been attacked by a dinosaur!

It was a really great day and I couldn't even remember the woman I had cursed off on the previous visit when she sought to denigrate us with her constant reference to what the "white people' did and how they reacted as opposed to how we did. Typical house slave. Anyway, I don't even know if she was there on Sunday.

As usual, RIBI and a few mad ones rode back whereas most of the us simply got our revenge on the hill by riding down until we got to the flat area then piled into the support vehicles.

On Independence Day the ride was also great, especially when we got to the cool, peaceful Bog Walk Gorge with the Rio Cobre river flowing peacefully beside the road.

Before we got to the Gorge, we were joined by Andrew at Angels, as he had left out early to make a stop. We were running a bit late as Ayatollah had gotten a puncture in Kingston and Charles the second got one at Jose Marti round-about. It was there I saw Barry and was quite surprised as I had assumed he would have ridden with the A team over the hills but he admitted he wasn't a hill rider. (The A team had wanted to ride up to Clydesdale but compromised by joining us but via the difficult route.)

I rode mostly alone but by the time we got to the end of the Gorge, I was dying of thirst as my second bottle was in Chuck's vehicle. Luckily, Carolyn came along and saved my life then when we got to the first coconut stall, everyone stopped, and Maurice treated me to a cool nut.

This was at the back of Jucci Patty where a number of persons had already gathered. We waited a while for the A team but when they failed to arrive, we headed to our final destination. They never arrived till we had headed to the river and were enjoying a wonderful swim as the Rio Cobre which was beautiful and clean this time, unlike the red water we encountered on our first trip there.

When we went up for breakfast, the drama unfolded, for up drove Betty in Bernadette's vehicle closely followed by two severe, no-nonsense looking policemen.

As it unfolded, Bernadette has had tracking equipment in her vehicle for five years and had recently complained to the security company that they were not doing their job properly as her vehicle had gone to all sorts of remote and strange places and they had never called to ask her if she was with the vehicle.

Today was therefore their day of revenge, for Betty had gone to buy gas and couldn't find the switch to unlock the gas tank so the helpful attendant had gone into the car and pressed a button which turned out to be the panic button!

So finally, Bernie's alarm company got some work to do and quickly called the police to let them know a possible kidnapping or car theft had taken place!

 Although Betty said she did not think it was she the police wanted when she first heard the siren, when she finally stopped, it was the clicking sound of the guns that brought her down to earth!

One policeman admitted that it was because she was a lady why they bought the story she told, so they followed her to verify that the owner did in fact give her permission to be in the vehicle. We had a good laugh when it was all over, but I shudder at what might have happened had one of our male counterparts been driving, for the trigger happiness of our police often ends in tragedy for poor young men.

I had to leave early so after breakfast did not even get the opportunity to return that twelve love Carolyn
had given me in St. Mary as I jumped in the first vehicle leaving which was Chuck's, for you know Caymanas racing cannot survive without him!

Breakfast was not too great as I cannot eat our national dish of ackee and saltfish as it makes me sick and there was no mackerel. So I had to settle for liver which I don't really like. The Guinep juice was fantastic though and it was overall, a good day with all ending well.

As Chuck was in a hurry, Maurice and I rode from his home, me downhill all the way and Maurice uphill most of the way, but what the heck, he is a man so he must work!


Incidentally, on my way down, I saw about four or five police vehicles at Wickam Avenue and wondered what major crime had taken place, only to hear on this morning's news that it was a ganja find at an unoccupied house.


As we enjoy our various forays into the countryside however, we must give tremendous thanks to people like Omar, Brian, Sheriff, Donovan, Charles, Ayatollah, Chuck, Mark and the ever-present Howie (except this weekend) and all the other people who have made their vehicles available to us on all these rides and all the people who put up with the boring feat of driving at 5 miles per hour behind us so we can enjoy ourselves. None of this would have been possible without all these great guys and girls who give of their possessions and time so willingly for our pleasure.