We spent a little more time in Discovery Bay, not doing much besides sailing and snorkeling. When the wind died out again we loaded up and headed off to Port Antonio.
These two have an underwater language they use, complete with hand signals and screaming. Probably wouldn’t pass muster with a dive instructor, but it works for them.
It was a beautiful calm day of cruising along the coast, fifty miles of so to Port Antonio. Along the way we decided to take the drone up for some shots. Because it was so calm I thought I’d just take off from the back deck. Normally I launch from the solar panels, but since we were cruising along at 8 knots I didn’t want the drone to get hit by the mast as we moved along.
I failed to think this all the way through. Normally, launching off of flat ground the drone goes straight up. But on the boat, even with the calm seas, the little bit of wiggle was enough that when it took off it shot a bit to the side instead of straight up. It clipped the dinghy, zipped out of control against the back rail, and was in the water within a second. Gone.
Whoops. I really should have just held it during takeoff. Won’t make that mistake again. Mainly because now I don’t have a drone—and won’t have one until we get another visitor.
Jamaican dollars. $139 to $1. Nothing like heading off to the ATM and pulling out $60,000 in cash, or paying $50,000 in a trip to the grocery store.
The entrance to West Bay, Port Antonio. I was amazed by how protected this bay is, surrounded almost entirely by a big island and a reef. With the mainland protecting it from the trade winds it is completely calm and swell free.
We ignored that sign, which was fine for a couple of days, but on our third visit the long-faced owner ambled over and told us we could swim, but not get any water on the ground. Sigh.
Somehow Erroll Flynn Marina convinced the local government to allow them to “ban” anchoring in the bay unless they were paid $25 for the privilege. No doubt the outrageous fee was determined in order to be so close to the price of dockage as to make it almost silly not to just use them. I’m not complaining really. It’s a convenient spot, being right in town, and the docks, power, and water are all in good shape. We can get some boat projects done and also feel good leaving the boat for short jaunts around the country. But man, how does a marina own the bottom of the ocean hundreds of yards away from their docks?
Port Antonio is one of those towns with half a dozen “grocery” stores, none of which are sizable or carries everything you need for a meal. Each trip to town for groceries ends with a trip through the fruit/veg market and at least two or three different stores.
A few days before we arrived this little sailboat was spotted bobbing around offshore. A sailor had set off weeks earlier from somewhere well south of here and hadn’t been heard from since. The Jamaicans went out and found him dead inside the boat (no, I don’t know what from) and towed the boat in here, where it now sits with police tape hanging in the rigging and this old wreck’s cross hovering over it nearby.
Seems everywhere we go in Jamaica our boat is made to look like a miniature toy.
Port A is taking a little getting used to. Frankly, it’s a bit exhausting. Every single walk through town I hear “Hey, Cap! Hey, Cap! Just a minute, Cap.” from at least a few people—sometimes as many as ten. We stick out like a sore thumb, and every hustler in town knows exactly where the toursit is coming from—a boat. After a couple of trips to town (and one particularly aggressive guy) the kids and Ali no longer wanted to go back. I’m used to it, and am now on nodding/fist bumping terms with most of them, but I totally get how the rest of the family has no interest in dealing with it.
6 Comments on “Port Antonio”
You forgot to mention the loud obnoxious music that plays until 4 am most nights at pain level.
I’m with Ali- not a fan of the hustling.
For a country that gave us Marley, it really is amazing the heavy reliance on 80s American VH1 music (never by the original artist, either). I will say, though, that for all the talk of loud music in Port A, we don’t even hear it in the boat at night (with fans running). 🙂
Lots of pix please! My wife was a desk clerk at Jamaica Reef, Errol Flynn’s hotel, in the late 50s! Thanks.
That’s awesome! Didn’t see the hotel. The new marina was built in 2002, I think it said. Nice area Errol set up.
I love your son’s sailboat. My dad taught me how to sail when I was his age. By the time I was 12 I knew enough to teach college students in the summer on the lake near out house. What a blast.
I visited Jamaica and Montigo Bay back in 1991. I think the exchange rate was 12/1. And the place was poor then. Wow, 139/1 is crazy. Same problem with all the hustlers also. We met a local kid who went with us everywhere and he would keep folks away. But yeah, we stuck out like a sore thumb.
Love your blog. I can’t thank you enough for it. Gave me the gumption to take off and spend the winter here in the southwest. Best winter I’ve ever had. Hope I can buy you both a beer sometime. Safe travels and smooth water to you all.
I think our sailing instructor on Lake Michigan was about 12. We didn’t share with him our intent to Sail Around the World after our eight-hour course. Wish we would have!
We had loads of of “helpers” around town but always shook them off. When the kids and I were walking back to the boat alone, as Pat was off to one more grocery store, we walked by one of them and he asked, “Where’s Cap?” I said he would be by soon. He said, ok I will talk to him then. Like they were good friends. Poor Pat.
I’m so happy to hear that you are enjoying the SW. We would enjoy that meet up and giving Brock a scratch too.