After spending about an hour getting through the Kingston traffic, we finally got on the Junction Road, which leads through the Blue Mountains from Kingston to Annotto Bay. It’s hard to describe the experience of driving on this road. It is a two lane road (for the most part) that runs along a valley with very steep cliffs that are easily more than a 100 feet in places with a lot of blind turns and a few scattered communities on the side. The entire time you can see rain forest on the mountain slopes along with bare patches where there has been a recent landslide. About two weeks ago I was on this road during a rain storm and almost got stuck behind a small landslide. When we came around the corner of one of the sharp bends, we saw rocks and soil completely blocking one lane of traffic and only partially blocking the other. The other passenger and I got out of the car while there were still a few small rocks coming down and threw the rocks that were only partially blocking the second lane over the cliff while the driver managed to squeeze by. Luckily, this past Friday there was no rain storm and no landslides to be concerned about.
We finally met up with our community contact person in a town called Buff Bay, which is on the coast, about 20 minutes east of Annotto Bay. On our drive back to Bybrook we took a turn off the main road onto a typical mountain road that I have become accustomed to driving on. In most places, these roads are only wide enough for one vehicle to drive on, the roads are in varying condition, usually with a lot of potholes making for a pretty slow, bumpy ride. When we reached the town, we picked up another local resident who was involved in the maintenance of the water system. I have gotten used to seeing people who live out in the bush carrying machetes and other knives, but they usually carry them in there hand because how sharp they keep them. He was actually wearing his knife in his pants, with no sheath. Another thing that struck me as strange was that it was only about 11am and Ian was smoking.
I figured that at this point we would get out of the car and start hiking up to the water source, which I had been told was a 45 minute hike up into the mountains. I was mistaken. We then turned off the small mountain road onto an even smaller road leading up into the mountains that I don’t think had more than an inch or two of extra room on some of the corners that, if we fell into, would have been a long, steep drop into the gully. The places of this road where there was asphalt, it couldn’t have been more than about a ½ inch thick. Other places had some potholes that were more than 6 inches deep. After driving on this road for about 10 minutes, we finally came to a point where the driver said he couldn’t go any further (which I would have said was about a ½ mile earlier).
The hike finally began. The hike to the water source was up hill for about 20 or 30 minutes in some pretty dense bush and next to some real steep gullies. The picture (admittedly not a great one) shows one view from the trail of the mountains accross the valley. It gives some idea of what the landscape and the bush is like.I just followed the maintenance guy as close as I could while he continued smoking and I was trying to inspect the water lines as we passed. It was tough keeping up with him, even though I, who consider myself in shape, was wearing my hiking boots and he was wearing a pair of boating shoes that probably had no traction left on them. On the hike up, the maintenance guy mentioned that he had already hiked up to the water source once today, walking not only the part of the hike that we were currently doing but also the part that we had driven up from the town. This guy was a machine.
We finally got to the catchment which is a four-foot high concrete dam that impounds water so that it can be piped down to a treatment shed and storage tank. The picture below shows the catchment and the maintenance guy getting ready to drain the water. Imagine hauling all that cement, rebar, piping and other suplies up this trail, I know why it took them two years to construct this thing.
We finally got to the catchment which is a four-foot high concrete dam that impounds water so that it can be piped down to a treatment shed and storage tank. The picture below shows the catchment and the maintenance guy getting ready to drain the water. Imagine hauling all that cement, rebar, piping and other suplies up this trail, I know why it took them two years to construct this thing. While at the catchment, the maintenance guy decided to remove the “silt” build up that was behind the dam. The “silt” was really all sand and gravel and there must have been close to 1,000 pounds behind that he dug out without any question or complaint. This would have worn me out and I would have been sweating buckets by the time I was done. All this work didn’t even seem to phase him.
After about an hour at the catchment, we hiked back down to the car, with the maintenace guy continuing to smoke entire time. While driving down to the treatment and storage tanks, we met a local farmer who offered some of his crops to us. The maintenance guy cut some sugar cane, a small bushel of plantains (large bananas), two bushels of bananas and a sack full of yellow yam and cho cho (similar to a potato). While he was digging up the cho cho, we heard a loud bang come from over by the treatment house and storage tank, which was weird since we were so far out in the bush. When we got down to the treatment house, we saw water gushing out from behind the door. After opening the door and letting the water drain out, we realized that after cleaning out the silt from the dam and unclogging the pipes, the water pressure down at the treatment house was so large that it blew the top off of the sand filter.
We left the maintenance guy at the treatment house and went to get a hack saw to cut the pipes and put a temporary patch on the system. By the time we got back, which was about 15 minutes, the maintenance guy was smoking again and cleaning up the storage compartment next to the treatment shed. I then tried to help in vain while he put a temporary patch on system so that he could fix the sand filter the next day.
After all of this, I was pretty well exhausted and hungry, and all I did was hike the trail and observe the walk. On the drive back, the JSIF driver stopped at a small shop on the side of the Junction Road and we had a cup of fish soup and a plate of fried chicken, rice and peas that I devoured. It was then that I realized how phenomenal Jamaican style rice and peas are and how I’m not sure what I would be doing without them. When I got home around 7pm, I managed to get enough energy to go to a bar a few blocks away and have a few beers. While sitting on the second floor of the bar, zoning out and staring into oblivion with maybe 2 other people in the entire place, a 9 year old boy started talking to me. It caught me a little off guard to see a 9 year old boy in a bar on a Friday night, but as I said before, I’m getting used to these things. Come to find out, this boy lives with his grandparents who live next door to the bar and work as cooks in the kitchen. As a result, the boy spends almost every night at the bar, talking to whoever comes in.
After about an hour at the catchment, we hiked back down to the car, with the maintenace guy continuing to smoke entire time. While driving down to the treatment and storage tanks, we met a local farmer who offered some of his crops to us. The maintenance guy cut some sugar cane, a small bushel of plantains (large bananas), two bushels of bananas and a sack full of yellow yam and cho cho (similar to a potato). While he was digging up the cho cho, we heard a loud bang come from over by the treatment house and storage tank, which was weird since we were so far out in the bush. When we got down to the treatment house, we saw water gushing out from behind the door. After opening the door and letting the water drain out, we realized that after cleaning out the silt from the dam and unclogging the pipes, the water pressure down at the treatment house was so large that it blew the top off of the sand filter.
We left the maintenance guy at the treatment house and went to get a hack saw to cut the pipes and put a temporary patch on the system. By the time we got back, which was about 15 minutes, the maintenance guy was smoking again and cleaning up the storage compartment next to the treatment shed. I then tried to help in vain while he put a temporary patch on system so that he could fix the sand filter the next day.
After all of this, I was pretty well exhausted and hungry, and all I did was hike the trail and observe the walk. On the drive back, the JSIF driver stopped at a small shop on the side of the Junction Road and we had a cup of fish soup and a plate of fried chicken, rice and peas that I devoured. It was then that I realized how phenomenal Jamaican style rice and peas are and how I’m not sure what I would be doing without them. When I got home around 7pm, I managed to get enough energy to go to a bar a few blocks away and have a few beers. While sitting on the second floor of the bar, zoning out and staring into oblivion with maybe 2 other people in the entire place, a 9 year old boy started talking to me. It caught me a little off guard to see a 9 year old boy in a bar on a Friday night, but as I said before, I’m getting used to these things. Come to find out, this boy lives with his grandparents who live next door to the bar and work as cooks in the kitchen. As a result, the boy spends almost every night at the bar, talking to whoever comes in.
Finally, at around 10 pm, exhausted and ready for sleep, I made my way back home and passed out, getting ready for my Saturday morning football game with some of the local guys in the community. It was far from the most stressful day here, but it certainly sticks out as being unique to me.
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