Fabienne - The Nervous Traveler -
in Jamaica 5
Montego Bay
KnowJamaica, our selected driver for our stay in Jamaica, took us to MoBay for our meetings. On the way, he drove through little towns where the Jamaican life suddenly burst before our eyes. We passed Martha Brae, famous for its breathtaking bamboo-river rafting, and we entered the towns of Lucea and Falmouth. There, Javia, our driver, stopped for gas. It was a hassle pulling in front of the right pump, since the taxis had taken over and stalled us plenty. At the station, drivers pay an attendant to pump their gas, old-school style.
Deuce falls asleep for a minute while we drove to Mo Bay. But a lengthy slumber proved difficult. The roads were quite impractical, and we couldn’t quite lean back with our eyes closed. 
There was so much to see on both sides of the road, anyway, including my favorite: 
a little wooden and metal sheet shack, brightly painted, as big as a matchbox, called “Future Walmart.” Hilarious!
In Montego Bay, we passed the airport and made our way to the Freeport Shopping Center, which is not an actual shopping center but more of an industrial/office space (I should point out here that Jamaica has more KFCs than I’ve seen in one American city alone. You can smell them a mile away and they’re always crowded, and on the way back, the biggest one was lit up and packed at 10 p.m., on both its stories, drive-thru and courtyard!). After stopping to ask directions and being pointed towards different destinations (passersby literally pointed left and right together), Javia got us to our meeting at Chukka’s office on time. There, we met with heads of marketing who gave us a clear understanding of Chukka Caribbean (who they are, what they do, why they do it the way they do).
The fun part really began when Marlon McPherson, responsible for Chukka’s e-marketing, drove us to the heart of Mo Bay city to Doctor’s Cave, 
a charming little beach front hotel with tourists flock to for a five-dollar admission. Parking proved difficult, so once we passed Jimmy Buffet’s MargaritaVille and the Coral Cliff, we were dropped off at the entrance where we waited for Marlon. 
We were there to see one of Chukka’s most talked-about excursions: Sea Trek.
There was one of the first evidences for me that Chukka was one of the best excursion companies in the Caribbean. Once we met Nelson, the tour manager at the site, we knew he not only knew his job well, but he also had the ability, whether he knew it or not, to put his clients at ease. 
He greeted us in his wet suit, soaked from head to toe, and gave us a tour of the compression chamber, where the tanks and machineries were regulated and checked thoroughly on a regular basis before they took anyone on their sea trek tour.
Sea Trek literally is a stroll underwater. That’s my definition of it. After we are shown exactly how the compression chamber work, we follow Nelson who points out how the cables run from the chamber to the diving spot. There, a maximum of eight guests receive a safety training, sign a waiver, and are outfitted in their gear, mainly a helmet that sits on your head with edges that act like suction cups on your shoulders. 
The helmet does not, however, stick in the front, leaving an empty space where, amazingly enough (truly through the laws of nature), water does not seep. In other words, the air fills in your helmet so that you are breathing natural air while you’re under water. It’s like walking under sea with an air bubble around your head.
The reason why I was thrilled about this tour is that it is perfect for a wuss like me! You do not need to know how to swim, snorkel nor scuba dive to do this, and you can come as close as any diver can to the marine life. You are under 14 feet of water with two professional, knowledgeable, well-trained assistant divers, who make you feel secure and who keep an eye on pressure, comfort and all those little things that you worry about (there’s a ratio of three guests to one safety diver. If there are more than four guests, then two divers and a guide are needed). Whether you’re claustrophobic, hydrophobic, thalassophobic or God knows what, you’ll feel better with Nelson and his fellow guides at Chukka’s Sea Trek tour. Plus, the oxygen tanks and first aid kits are always handy.
As part of your underwater stroll, you will come up close to Jamaica’s marine life and even simulate feeding the fish. I say simulate because as part of Chukka’s motto, nature remains untouched. According to Dominique Peterkin, director of marketing, Chukka’s goal is to “leave nature the way it is and take you into it.” That’s why they do not feed the fish, so they won’t interfere with their eating habits. Also, Chukka grows new coral in the Sea Trek area so that the fish can feed onto natural reefs instead of human food.
By the end of our visit, we were elated. I was excited about coming back to Doc’s Cave to try their Sea Trek adventure. By the way, they call it Doc’s Cave for a reason. There’s an actual cave where locals believe the waters to hold miraculous healing powers. Hence the name…
Back at Chukka, Marlon and Dominique arranged for us to meet with the tour manager of the Zip Line Canopy Tour in Ocho Rios, where we were expected on Saturday for our actual chance at soaring in the jungle. Then, Javia was whisking us away to the town of Redding, in Mo Bay, where we were meeting Gilbert Byles, owner of Caliché Rainforest River Rafting tours.
In his office, pictures and posters of the actual rafting tour cause my heart to flutter. That looked frightening to me… We wanted to see the actual site in Mo Bay, and we wanted to meet the guides, and witness the prepping process. So we got directions to Nature’s Village, ways up in the hills of Montego Bay, where we were to rush and beat the bus loads of cruise ship passengers who were headed the same way to go rafting with Caliché. The directions?
“Go up the long hill, all the way till you reach the third crossing on the right where there’s a grocery shop and a car repair shop on the left. You turn right onto Lethi crossing and from there you travel downhill. You’re looking for Nature’s Village. If you pass the bridge, you’ve gone too far. If you pass the little church made of plywood, you’ve gone too far. Nature Village is on the right.”
After that confusing bit of information, we attempted to follow his directions. The drive uphill was both intimidating and breathtaking. The road was narrow enough for one vehicle. So it was a wonder to me how two cars made it, somehow creating an imaginary set of lanes. On the right of us, the mountain. On the left, cliffs. But I could hardly dwell on those precipices when my eyes kept traveling up to those tall, imposing leafy bamboos, the thick fern forests and other foliage that grew everywhere and formed a fragile semi-barrier between the cliff and the road.
Mr. Byles’ direction turned out to be right on the money. We go to the car repair (more of a junkyard, really) and the shop on the right, where two men were sitting, contemplating the wonders of life (namely us gracing them with our presence). We asked them where Lethi road was, and they both pointed (surprise, surprise) to the right. The drive up was even scarier and more amazing. No matter how desolate and impractical the road, the scenery was always glorious and entertaining. A farmer’s land was planted with banana trees and dead coconut trees (apparently, a rare and peculiar disease had ravaged thousands of coconut trees in Jamaica years back), yet was not at all fenced off. Little shacks on our right served as homes to many, and in their front yard, goats chomped nonchalantly on the green grass. Under his colorful hut, a Rasta was hatching coconuts open with a machete and selling coconut water while his little boy played out front.
Javia showed us what locals referred to as a “pipe stand,” which resembles a faucet firmly planted in the ground in front of a house and serves the same functions as a well. According to Javia, that’s where they come out to tap their water from. That’s why we love KnowJamaica. Even when they’re not cruising down their habitual route, they still use their knowledge to guide their clients. They know their island well and they want to share its beauty with us.
At some point, the road forked into two paths: one going up hill, the other going down. Both looked impractical, and the sign with the red arrow that pointed to Nature’s Village was slanted enough to generate confusion. We opted to drive downhill, and soon, we encountered a group of women making their way uphill. Javia stopped for directions in patois, but made the mistake of calling her “princess.” She sucked her teeth and kept walking. Deuce rolled his window down and asked her again, and finally got her attention. We were on the right path.
Soon enough, we arrived at Nature’s Village. The location was simply splendid. The vast yards sprawled in green, dotted with coconut trees and other exotic plants, and little outdoor tables and benches. Steps away, a few cabins and gazebos indicated that many events, other than rafting, could be conducted onsite. In the midst of all this, we heard the powerful roar of rushing water. The river beckoned below, commanding all visitors to gear up for the ride. It was the most beautiful river I’d seen in a long time, cascading over rocks and tree trunks, forming occasional pools of jade green water, then flowing again right between the wooden rainforest.
At our arrival, the guides were sitting on their rafts on the grass, expecting cruise ships passengers any minute. The man we were meeting, Veryl, welcomed us with a smile and was more than happy to introduce the guides to us. The most impressive one was of course the head guide, Mackell, also known as The General. Mackell was a tall, reserved man who greets us quite politely. We dipped our feet in the river. Even its texture felt different. It truly felt like velvet against my ankles, more caressing and tender than it sounded mean and merciless.
As soon as we were introduced, the buses arrived, carrying loads of tourists in their bikinis and water shoes (pronounced wa-ta in Jamaica). There, we witnessed first hand The General’s prowess. 
He had morphed from the quiet individual he seemed to be into a serious, imposing and quite experienced guide. He briefed his group of rafters with all the necessary safety measures (how to sit, how to hold a paddle, how to move, how to respond to commands). Everyone listened quietly. Not a fly flew by. Not a pinned dropped. It was serious business, especially for me who was about to pee in my pants.
Seriously? We had to sit on the side of the raft? Not in it?
As soon as the groups were geared up in life jackets and helmets, and as soon as they took off paddling, “all forward,” 
I rushed to the bar and requested a bottle of rum cream to calm my nerves. But it didn’t do much: Veryl came in and showed me the video, on his cell phone, of one of their rafting tour. 
On the tiny screen, the rafts descended down steep, monstrous, hostile drops where the water seemed unforgiving, and the rafters’ screams as they made their way down filled me with dread. I requested a second rum cream for the road.
(Continued...)
