Crooked streets😁

Beautiful flowers beside the walkway on Lombard Street.

The only street more crooked than Lombard Street is Wall Street!

View of San Francisco Bay from Lombard Street

Motorists inch their way gingerly around the corners on Lombard Street.

The crack above was made by the tour bus driver as we passed the bottom of Lombard Street on our way to Muir Woods.

Yea. He got a few chuckles 😁

This tree was planted in 909AD and fell in 1930!

These trees put us humans into perspective!

Muir Woods National Monument is part of California’s Golden Gate National Recreation Area, north of San Francisco. It’s known for its towering old-growth redwood trees. They are humongous and tend to grow in clusters, called family circles.

Some of the redwoods are nearly 1,000 years old and reach heights of more than 250 feet.

The only animals we saw there though were deers and a few chipmunks although the information we got said coyotes and wolves also roam

These trees are really humongous.

To get there we drove on a road similar to ours in Jamaica from Newcastle to Buff, Bay, Portland. 

Naturally cyclists were taking the opportunity to barrel off the hills and round the corners, just as we often did on our similar road.☺ Sure brought back great memories.

For the return trip to San Francisco we had the option of staying on the bus or taking the ferry from nearby Sausalito.

This is where the super rich like director George Lucas and Carlos Santana live. 

It is said that Lucas's farm has its  own fire department for his over 2000 acre farm!

Saulsilito Main Street.

Houses on the nearby islands go for $30 million up.

Alcatraz in the background 

Saulsilito monument 

A house boat in the back is built to look like the Taj Mahal. 

A weird looking houseboat

Houseboats abound.

As a water lover, the choice was clear.😊.

The Bay is beautiful from the sea.

My schoolmate Sonja and I went touring today.

Sections of the Golden Gate bridge are visible despite the thick fog.

San Francisco is beautiful coming in on the ferry.

Another wonderful day on planet earth.

Give thanks.

No Minister Farrakhan

I have always been mesmerized by Minister Louis Farrakhan who I consider one of the greatest orators./ debaters of our time, although I could never endorse his religion which treats women as second class citizens, but that is another matter.

Last weekend at the million man march, Minister  Farrakhan  did not disappoint despite  having reached  the grand old age of 81.

For  man of his depth however, I was disappointed how he allowed himself to be influenced by cheap local rhetoric regrading our maintaining the status quo as regards  the queen of England.

While I support the removal of the British queen and her expensive representative in Jamaica, we need to go much  further to make governance more relevant to our needs, now that we are supposedly independent.

 For to get rid of the queen while holding for dear life to the remnants of colonialism such as the Army, the British devised local government system, Caricom ( the Federation of the former British colonies by the back door ) and the allowing of members of parliament from the commonwealth while banning those who American citizens, can help this country, is in no way progressive or independent.

Take the Local government system as bequeathed by our former colonial masters when it took days to travel from one parish to the next and land phones and other means of communication were in the dark ages, is ridiculous. And who does it benefit? In my book, only the JLP and PNP who get the benefit of having their grass root campaigners financed by taxpayers to the tune of some $4 billion per year. 

Jamaica with its small population, certainly does not need 15 governments and 15 time wasting bureaucracies (14 Local government and one central government) thus using all our resources to pay politicians, consultants and bureaucrats, leaving no or very little resources to build communities. (Incidentally,  the parishes were demarcated in a manner thought best to facilitate the Anglican parishes in the colonies, it had nothing to do with the  the convenience or efficiency of serving the interests the people, as the Anglican church was the official church of the colonizers and the only thing more powerful than that church  then was the monarch).

We should have moved long ago to the concept of three County councils as proposed decades ago after intensitive study, plus local government agencies for the two cities. How much more practical would 6 governments be for a population of 2.7 million as opposed to the 15 we now have?

Then take the army. The British needed a full fledged army to protect their empire in the Caribbean  but where is our empire? (They successfully samfied some colonial minded politicians into accepting the concept of federation to keep the colonies together and we are still holding on to it for dear life via the body called CARICOM) !

We need to restructure the army to serve the interests of the Jamaican people, not to preserve an empire. So what we need is a good coast guard to protect our shores, an efficient engineering corp and an air wing and redirect the billions we are wasting on the infantry which will not even use a couple paint brushes and hammers to fix up the historical site at Newcastle that they occupy.

 Instead the members of the infantry should be invited to join the police force so they can be trained to serve and protect the people of  this nation, not treat us as enemies to be to be cut down, which is what soldiers taught to do.

Then there is his nonsense where members of the commonwealth  including Pakistani Muslims can serve in our parliament and even become prime ministers after residing here for a year while Jamaican who migrate to the US and have gained experience and valuable education are deterred, is absolute madness.

Yes Minister Farrakhan, by all means lets get rid to the Queen of England, her heirs and successors and all she represents, but we need far more than mere superficial tinkering if we are interested in becoming really independent and determined to build this great country into a place where we can live as a proud people.

And by the way, if we are going to remove all vestiges of colonialism, we need to do away with  the "cricket holidays" that bureaucrats still get to go watch that ever so colonial game, with its tea time breaks and all!.

-- 

No Alligators There!

It was really a great day....for everyone but Dr. Kim, I guess. For as she descended the hill to Alligator Pond, a wasp attacked her knee and in her haste to get rid of him before he had done too much damage, she catapulted over her handlebar and damaged her left wrist badly as she tried to break the fall. 

Dr. Kim with wrist in sling

When I got there she was writhing with pain, but the would be doctors in the Fun and Thrills group soon eased her pain with cold water, Reiki (compliments of Stewart) and Excedrin . The greatest moment of it all however was when Chuck arrived with two large Poinciana pods and about 20 feet of rope to make a splint  for her aching wrist. Oh for a camera at moments such as this!

Kim was not the only one who had a spill however for as I descended the hill , I saw Orrell (aka GM) coming out of the bushes at the side of the road and thought to my self that he had found a flush toilet! How wrong I was, for when I stopped to assist and commiserate with Kim, he rode up and admitted that he was emerging from the bushes because he had picked up a skid and landed there.  Luckily, nothing but his pride was damaged however.

Maurice too had his bout of bad luck for as he started to ride from way back at Jucci patties, his bicycle gave out so he spent most of the trip driving. Poor Maurice, for he is the one who does not want to only go on long rides but he would ride to hell and back if possible!

As I said earlier however, it was really a great day...a wonderful ride, the last long ride of the year, and it was orgainised by Thomas, Omar and Theresa. What was absolutely amazing from the very beginning is that we drove out only 5 minutes later than the designated time, to ride to Clarendon Park from where the A team would ride.

Being a permanent B teamer myself, I started riding from Williamsfield, Manchester, thus avoiding the miserableness of Melrose hill. As I took off up the Royal flats hill, I was quickly overtaken by Rose and Charles the first, who I did not see again until they made a wrong turn and had to double back and we rode together after that. It was amusing that they had taken a wrong turn so early, for organiser Thomas had drummed it into us before we started riding,  that we should keep left at the Y junctions and they went right at the very first one and nearly ended up in Mandeville.

The route from Williamsfield was really great, gently undulating all the way.

Then we got to  an intersection where if you went right you would have to climb this huge hill leading up to Northern Caribbean university. That hill was so intimidating that I could not wait to remind my fellow riders that Thomas had insisted that we keep left at all Y junctions. By then we had been joined  by the Ayatollah, Fatman and Sheriff  and heard that Chuck and Bernadette had kept right and ridden up the hill. They were phoned and  the Ayatollah browbeat them, for I suspect, the same reason as I, into returning to join us.

 I was even more convinced  and adamant that we had taken the correct turn, for I had spent many of my youthful days in Knockpatrick where I had an aunt and I have no recollection of that big hill. Actually, I had never returned there since 1967, about a week before I got married, for my dear aunt Gwen was dying from cancer and I will never forget her screams as the pain wracked her body. Yesterday I could not even find where her house had been, for the place had changed so much. More importantly,  I had no recollection of that huge hill leading up to Northern Caribbean University, which had been West Indies Training College and which my cousin Betty had attended.

Anyway, back to the ride. At first, Chuck fiercely resisted our interpretation of the route, because he said if that is where Ayatollah had gone, it was the wrong direction as the Ayatollah has an unenviable reputation of leading us astray. So the Sheriff called Thomas and he confirmed that we should indeed have turned left so we laughed the detractors to scorn.

After a short rest, we rode off and the first local person we saw on the road, we queried if we were heading to Newport. "No" he told us, "You have to go up the hill. " In disbelief we sought a second opinion from a man hanging out clothes in his backyard. He too confirmed that we were heading to May Day which would not take us to Newport. Despondently and after much argument we turned back to take on the horrible hill. I saw a support vehicle coming and immediately waved it down and asked a man walking on the road to throw my bicycle into the back of the pickup.

I was not the only one who shied away from the hill for we saw Chuck ahead holding on the back of a support vehicle ! True, he had ridden up before but for all I know, he had held on to something the first time for he has that penchant, as displayed many years ago when we first took on a ride to Newcastle!

When Thomas caught up with us and we challenged him for giving us wrong directions, however  he laughingly retorted "Good". True I guess, for what would a ride with Fun and Thrills be if some of us did not go off on the wrong track?

"Photographer" Omar poses in front of a windmill

Thomas then compounded his mischievousness by telling us that once we got to Newport, it was downhill all the way. It certainly was not for we kept climbing until we got to the PCJ operated Wignton wind farm which has an elevation of 2,126 feet.

Going downhill from there would have been absolutely wonderful had I ridden my mountain bike which has shock absorbers in front,  for the road was quite bumpy.

However the breathtaking scenery minimized the torture on my hands. The mountainous terrain below, the blue  sea and the Lover Leap cliff from above, were was absolutely breathtaking.

Lovers Leap cliff in the background

The Alligator Pond  river is not one of our best rivers however but I couldn't wait to jump in to cool off.
Once I had cooled off  however I had no inclination to return and since the sea there has a reputation of having a dangerous current, I avoided it, although some of the  more daring ones went in.                                                                                                                                                                      The area itself is not particularly attractive for the collection of hurriedly put up food shacks are just that, shacks.

Breakfast/(lunch) was  delivered shortly before one and this was when Richard nominated the food at Dressekie, St. Mary, at the ride in November arranged by arranged by Alric, the best food of all rides for 2012. I had missed that ride as I was at Silver Sands at a party, but as far as I am concerned, when I am starving as I was yesterday (despite Michelle smuggling me a cup of her delicious soup)  every food is the food of the year!

Regardless, I was too hungry to care and after spending some time enjoying the great camaraderie that comes with Fun and Thrills rides. When  the time came to leave, I displaced Howie from his own vehicle and slept almost all the way home.

Can't think of a better way to spend a Sunday.

Ps. Incidentally  there are no alligators at Alligator Pond or any where else in Jamaica. 

Photographs, compliments of Omar. (I hope!)

Robins Bay Again

This is the second time the Fun and Thrills group has organised a ride to Robins Bay in St. Mary and  although this time we ended up at a different location for breakfast, it was just a memorable. What was great too is that this time no one ended up in the hospital (as unfortunately Pat and Desiree had during my absence ) and there wasn't even a spill as we enjoyed our leisurely ride along the  the extremely scenic Junction road accompanied most of the way by the snaking Wag Water River as it slowly navigated around humongous rocks.

I left my home at about 5.45 am and rode alone towards Stony hill until I was joined by Gary, a professional rider who opted to keep my company up to the square where half of the group was already waiting.

The next stop was the scenic Castelton Gardens outside of which the greatest soup is available.... janga  soup. While pleasing our palates there, we were joined by most of the others who had left headquarters at Hope Pastures later than the A Team.

While we were there, it started to rain but not very heavily, so we set off for a pleasant ride with just enough rain to cool us down.  On most of the way to Agualta Vale, I was riding with Charles Simpson, who though new to riding is fulla stamina. (dancehall lingo).  Incidentally, the humorous story leaked out how  he had been conquered by some of the slopes going up to Stony hill and had to tie a rope on to his SUV to pull him over the hill. I am only sorry that I did not arrive in time with my camera to catch that sight. This is not a first among Fun and Thrillers however for Michael Chuck invented that move some years ago on a ride to Newcastle in the hills of  St. Andrew and I have the picture to prove it!

When we got to Agualta Vale we saw some of the party waiting, but Charles who proudly tells us that he is St. Mary born, convinced me that our final destination was less than 2 1/2 miles away and gullible me swallowed it hook line and sinker. Naturally, in typical Jamaican style, the 2 1/2 miles ended up being about 5 miles. I could have kicked myself for not having stopped to rest with the others.

Anyway I survived and this time our final destination was just at the turn off to Robins Bay proper. As we arrived first and I saw a number of domino tables, I wasted no time in recruiting three local players and got down to business. Before I could either drop or receive a 6 love however, the rest of the posse arrived and breakfast was announced. The food was absoluteluy fabulous and the ambiance just great, right beside the sea.

After breakfast it was straight to the beach for some of us while the MTR's went riding into the bushes in rugged country. We walked about 1/4 mile to a beach but it was full of rocks so after enquires we set off to another which we were told was not too far.

In  true country style, not too far turned out to be very far but it was a nice beach near an area with huge rocks protruding but where the water was fresh and clean and it was situated in a cove which protected us from the fierce currents that Robins Bay is notorious for.                                                                                                          It was another great day of fun and camaraderie with  the group of wonderful adventure seekers from Fun and Thrills riding club.

For more photographs see; http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?id=763366822&frecId=false&qn=1310492716&tid=190063094373469&success=11&failure=0&set=oa.209587812420997

Politics, Mountains and Beaches

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Our mountains are green, lush, picturesque and just plain beautiful. It is as if I become more invigorated each time I go into them there hills.

Today was no different as we rode to Newcastle, my fourth try and my third success. Actually my fitness level is really improving greatly for what used to be a four hour struggle is now a three and a half hour challenging ride. I am talking about a constant uphill ride for about 12 miles. The ambiance does ease the pressure somewhat as the view is so breathtaking.

As I rode into the hills a SUV stopped beside me and two ladies shouted "Joan Marshall" in unison. Well you know when you hear that name you are talking about people who come from way back in my long life. It was Maureen and Pansy Williams, two sisters who were at Hampton with me. I was in the same form with Maureen who is now a dermatologist at Cornwall Regional hospital but I also knew Pansy well and while I have seen her from time to time, Maureen I have never seen since we left school almost a century ago! It was a pleasant if short reunion but I am amazed how they recognized me in my helmet and all. It just goes to show that their memory is far better than mine for they had to tell me who they were!. C'est la vie.

I missed stopping to pick and eat raspberries on the way up to Newcastle for unfortunately they are now out of season. You know, I have to watch how I speak as people are always picking up my voice. I saw a group of men just below the Catharine’s Peak factory working on the break away on the road (there is a lot of work going on all the way on the many break aways that have emerged over the years as a result of landslides. Seems like a by-election is in the air as that is the constituency of Joe Hibbert. ) and as I told them good morning, one shouted out "Is you dat Miss Will" When I answered in the affirmative I was immediately surrounded by friendly fire as they greeted me happily. The the issues that they want me to address on radio came at me from all quarters. The main problem however is the fact that they cannot get any pay for the coffee they deliver to the Mavis Bank Factory. Apparently the factory is in financial bind and while these peasant farmers are doing their part and delivering boxes of Blue Mountain Coffee to the factory, they just can't get their money, They reminded me that that Blue Mountain Coffee covers three parishes, St. Andrew, St. Thomas and Portland and they told me the growing areas are all all represented by JLP member of parliament..... James Robertson, Andrew Gallimore and Joe Hilbert. The men said the small farmers in the hills supported the present government but they have been abandoned. I told them that they should stop supporting politicians because of family tradition for that is when they take them for granted by ignoring them when they win. It is not until the next election comes that politicians return with sweet words and they fall for it. They asked me to big them up on the programme but the only name I can remember is Kingsley and the day is not even over yet! Anyway when he told me he wanted Renato Adams to become Commissioner of police, I knew it was time to resume my trip to the army training camp.

All but Anne Marie completed the entire trip up on bicycle. When we got there, the temperature was at least 10 degrees lower than it is in Irish Town and all the hills below us were heavily shrouded in mist.

After breakfast at Cafe Bleu on the way down, I decided that I had niggeritis ( as did Damit and Anne Marie)and we drove down in Howie's pickup from Irish town to Kingston. Zorie, Stefan and Penny's 3 year old daughter, kept us amused as she chatted non stop from we got in until we arrived. She is a funny kid for seeing her this morning you would never know she had a tongue as she refused to answer us when we tried to talk to her, but after a hearty meal, there was no end to it. She clearly not only resembles her father but is also powered by food as he is!

I thought yesterdays ride to Hellshire Beach was uneventful, apart from me seeing a dead baby crocodile about two feet long on the road. He seems to have been run over by a car and I cant say I am sorry for those things grow to be 20 foot monsters that have now qualms about attacking humans. However Howie revealed that we had a near tragedy as a new rider who had been brought along by Peter had swung out in front of a car on the Boulevard and his heart stopped for it only the quick reflex of the driver that saved her. Apparently that drew the ire of another motorist who gave them a proper tongue lashing over the incident.

The sea was great and the food good but expensive. Naomi who lives in Hellshire joined us at the beach but she did not swim but went riding into the Hellshire hills with Orrell. We had two new riders a (apart from the lady who had a near miss). They are Johann (pronounced Yohan) and Soldier Mike, a flight lieutenant at the Air Wing of the JDF. He brought his wife and his two adorable kids.