Rafting on the Martha Brae in Jamaica
RIDE A LAZY RIVER - THE MARTHA BRAE - IN JAMAICA
In
a land of jungle and caves washed by the Caribbean Sea along
Jamaica's northern coast, are the resorts for which this country is
justly famous. To name a few: Half Moon in Montego Bay, the Grand
Lido in Negril, and Breezes, a short drive from Ocho Rios; all
pockets of heaven on a paradise shore.
As
tempting as it was to laze on the beach in the shade of almond trees
and sea grapes, we, a group of seven, chose to step out beyond the
luxury of the resorts to explore the natural beauty of one of the
Caribbean's most fascinating islands.
Royal Poinciana
Travelling
a winding road through wild Mango, Breadfruit and Banana groves,
Royal Poincianas sprinkled with flame-coloured flowers showered us
with petals as we drove by. Alongside us like a giant serpent, the
waters of the Martha Brae River, brown and burdened with silt after
recent rains in the mountains, wound a circuitous route through dense
vegetation.
At Rafter's Village we sipped rum punch, a deliciously cold tipple on
a day with soaring humidity. Buoyed by the alcoholic refreshment, we
proceeded merrily - through wild ginger and hanging lobster claw
bushes to a rickety boarding point for a cruise with a difference.
Clambering
aboard a 10-metre long raft fashioned from bamboo, Nicole Boulanger
and I settled on a seat for two on a raised platform. Our craft was
a Jamaican style gondola; our 'gondolier', a cheery Captain Sewell
positioned on the front of the raft wielding a 4-metre long pole.
Way back in the days of sugar plantations these same rafts were used
for transporting sugar to the merchant ships at the mouth of the
Martha Brae in Falmouth.
Dressed
in a floppy shirt and shorts, with a gap-toothed grin, our gallant
man Sewell was a fund of wisdom about Jamaican folklore, life, love
and the environment.
He
related the story of brave Martha, an Arawak Indian for whom the
river was named. In a quest for treasure, the invading Spanish
Conquistadors had cornered Martha in her cave on a nearby
mountainside. When she refused to reveal the whereabouts of a
legendary gold mine, the Conquistadors tortured her. With her
supernatural powers Martha conjured up an earthquake that brought
about the drowning of herself and the soldiers in the very river upon
which we now rafted.
Sensing
my interest in the environment, Sewell pulled over to the river bank.
“See that little plant, touch it and something strange will
happen”. I did, and its delicate leaves folded immediately. “It's
a sensitive plant” claimed Sewell. “We call it ‘Shy Lady’”.
Puzzled
about the black birds hovering overhead, Sewell explained. “They’re
turkey buzzards. Our name for them is Jancrow” Later when reading
Jamaica's No. 1 Bestseller “How to Speak Jamaican”, I discovered
that the birds are named for the Revd. John Crow who, when preaching,
leaned on his pulpit in a black gown, - 'like a Jancrow drying his
wings in the morning'.
A
loud creaking in a thicket of bamboo brought another snippet of
enlightenment. “Hear that bamboo swaying in the wind. They grow up
to three inches in 24 hours.”
Photos copyright Anne Gordon
Posted on Friday July 20th, 2012