We diverted to Port Antonio, Jamaica, due to bad weather. Rain, heavy at times, greeted our arrival. We decided to go ashore anyway to see what could be seen. The port is tiny, consisting of a single arrival building, and we were the only ship in the harbor. We followed a group down the road to what we assumed was town. Rain continued to fall, and people coming back said everything was closed due to the rain and because it was Sunday. We went to a gate where several battered small minivan cabs were parked on the road and in a field on the other side. We later discovered that most vehicles in Jamaica were battered. A couple of the drivers were offering rides around the area. Discussions ensued about where and the costs, with one very belligerent Typical American loudly trying to browbeat the locals. He was mostly ignored. We settled on a price for a ride to a market we had read about and set off.

After some wandering, we arrived at a small “craft” market by the waterside. It consisted of a few small shops and a cafe. Only two shops were open; we were the only tourists/ customers. While our driver, Dwight, and Ruth bartered with a shop owner over the price of pins, I wandered around. The rain continued. 

Dwight offered to take us to The Lighthouse and the famous Blue Lagoon. Off we went.

A sidenote about Jamaican roads:
They are terrible. Narrow, bumpy, and winding, often they are dirt or shell. No one can drive fast, which is good because the roads are limited in many places to accommodate two vehicles side by side. Plus, the Jamaican driving style includes liberal use of the horn, shouting greetings at almost everyone you pass, and fist bumping if you are going slow enough. The rain created “puddles” in the road that would be considered small ponds in the US. 

We quickly went from town into the jungle, and the road deteriorated to a winding dirt track with huge puddles. As we wound our way into the wilderness, I questioned what we were doing in a van in the middle of nowhere with a guy we had only known briefly. Stories of innocent <stupid> tourists disappearing on remote islands, never to be seen again, crossed my mind.   

Eventually, though, we came into a clearing with several buildings, a gate, a barbed wire fence, and a sign about the Folly Lighthouse, built in 1888. Dwight jumped out of his cab and gestured us to the barbed wire fence. He held up a strand so we could duck under it and walk to the lighthouse. Unfortunately, the area was closed, as announced by a shirtless guy stepping out onto a porch and yelling at us. Much shouting and waving of arms occurred between Dwight and the shirtless guy. Dwight finally shrugged and announced we couldn’t go any further. Back under the fence we went as the shirtless guy continued gesticulating. 

 

We returned to the cab and off to the Blue Lagoon. We passed some beautiful areas along the way, even in the rain and gloom. As we bumped down the road, splashing through puddles and going around BIG puddles, Dwight regaled us with a running commentary on Jamaican politics, how more cruise ships really should come to Port Antonio (we were the first in a while, and that was only because Kingston was closed), and how stupid the travel agents were to cancel excursions due to a bit of rain (splash).  

After a final hill climb, we arrived at the entrance to the world-famous Blue Lagoon. The entrance consisted of steep steps accessed through an ornate gate kept closed by a large padlock. We found out later that the Blue Lagoon was closed for refurbishment. 

Dwight was not to be deterred. He ushered us into a rode-hard and put-up-wet golf cart, explaining the driver would take us down to the Lagoon. Down we went, past a renovation project, to what turned out to be very nice in a shabby Jamaican style.

 

 

The drive back down to and through town to the port was relatively uneventful, other than bumps and splashes. Upon reaching the gate to the port, a Very Official Lady in a Very Official Uniform came out of the building to my side of the cab. She berated Dwight for parking in the field next to the gate, not filling out some form, and being generally bad. She also told him he owed what sounded like a small fortune for parking illegally. A loud discussion took place, ending with the gate remaining closed and the lady stomping back to her office. Ruth and I debated jumping out to make a run for the ship. Another more Official Lady in an Official Uniform came out with the first lady and proceeded to Dwight’s side of the cab. After several minutes of shouting and arm waving, the gate was opened and we proceeded to our unloading. Dwight grumbled about the bureaucracy and how the world was falling apart for small businessmen. We took our leave, and the adventure ended. 

By the way, the port is named after a famous swashbuckling star on the big screen…

Thanks for reading.

December 31, 2023

The images in this post were reduced in size because the shipboard internet is sooooo slow. Go here for full-size images at www.ImagesByBill.us.