This was one of THE highlights of my journey around Jamaica. Which is interesting, as the walk up the hill at 1.45am was also one of the lowpoints. And not just of my trip – but possibly of my traveling life! I will explain. We arrived at the 200 year old Whitfield Hall at around 8 o’clock in the evening. It’s an enchanting wooden structure with shelves of books that possibly date back as far as the foundations and it houses a cranky old piano that certainly hasn’t been tuned since 1807. It’s a great place. The home-cooked food is rustic and lip-smackingly tasty. Perhaps it was the ancient atmosphere of the cranky house and the sound of crickets ringing in the forrest outside that took to my imagination – but the dinner of slow-stewed spicey chicken ‘n’ rice ‘n’ peas reminded me of hearty-dreamy-mountain-meals cooked-up by gnarly sherpas in the thick of the Himalayas en-route to Mount Everest. And we were still only 1000 feet above sea level, here in Jamaica.

So what’s was my ‘lowpoint’ problem you may ask? Well… a bottle of tonic wine (a good ‘base’ for climbing mountains I was told) and a full belly of food and Blue Mountain coffee later we decided to turn in for the night. It was probably 10.30pm. Now, for those of you that haven’t sampled Jamaican tonic wine – it’s not a night-cap! It’s more like a redbull fueled energy drink – at the very least! (I will upload a picture of the glinting and gold intertwined couple on the bottle at some point soon I promise). By approximately 1am my heart stopped racing and I finally drifted to sleep – for 45 minutes – before getting up to a quadrouple shot of blue mountain coffee meeting our guide in pitch darkness (so dark outside I couldn’t see my hands let alone see a new person) and clambering straight up the side of the mountain through what felt like potholes and scrub and small ravines and wet shoes and wet socks and caffeine and sleeplessness and mozzy bites and I JUST WANT TO GO BACK TO SLEEP WHAT AM I DOING HERE, BLIND AND FUMBLING, I CAN”T EVEN SEE JAMAICA, WHY AM I DOING THIS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT running through my veins.

Finally, we arrive: Croft of roof at the peak:

What a bright idea this was!

Hot Carribean or Cold Siberia?!:

So as you see, 3 hours later we got to the top. It was freezing. It was foggy. There was no sunrise. (We were also an hour early). I lay on the stony ground and let the resident mice and rats run-riot around me. And then (of course!) it started to rain. And did I mention that I was wearing just a thin cotton shirt and shorts. And that there was a sign saying that I couldn’t even set fire to myself to keep warm:

No fires:

Brrrr. Freezing fog (looking very cool):

We decided to make a run for it back down. OK, it was more like a hobble than a run – but then the fog started to fade. OH. MY. The hobble suddenly turned into a skip and the complaints and desire to sleep drifted away and away… as the light crept slowly through the trees the pitch-black landscape that we had unknowingly climbed through the night came to life…and we saw what we had climbed…starting as a misty episode from The Lord of The Rings the trail was enchanting as vines and dew enveloped the pathway…moisture dripping from the bark…and then slowly but surely the valley revealed a hue of blue-green fields and endlessly rolling mountains into the distance below. I hope you enjoy these pictures below as much as I enjoyed the walk down. It was like being on top of the world, deep in middle-earth. But if you don’t want to spoil the surprise – then don’t look at the pics below – just call this number, (Kingston) 876-927-0986, and organise your own trip today!

The dark leaves and light arrives…

…and if you wonder, where to wander….

…stay a while and dawdle at dawn…

…as light arrives so too does colour…

…red flowers adorn the ceiling…

…and like magic, blue mountains pop into view:

A final highlight of experiencing The Blue Mountains with Whitfield Hall was eating a breakfast of akee and salt fish lovingly prepared back at the cabin. Soft fluffy festival, blue mountain coffee, fried eggs, toast and jam.

Hitch a ride back into town:

Or stay a while and relax with nature:

To arrange a tour with Whitfield Hall, call: Kingston – 876-927-0986

However, the trip was worth while as we met a painter named Gregory Byron. On our arrival to the attraction we had noticed he was painting a picture of a boy and a dog. So we stopped to hear his story.

Gregory has been a painter since 1992, and still enjoys the trade even though painting seems to be a struggling business in Jamaica. His shop is located just outside the family house, where his children, wife and in-laws live. The shop and house are decorated with art all painted by Gregory.

Gregory shared that his art has been featured in Jamaican galleries, and that he sells to local and overseas buyers.

Artist in Training

He also introduced us to “painter in training”. That person was Damion.

Damion is also a local of the Nonesuch area who is being taught how to paint by Gregory. Gregory paints from a picture, while Damion was given a whole book to practice his work, as part of his training.

Gregory says that his painting business has been going well so far, and that he “Can’t really complain, because I could be doing nothing.”

Take a look at the amazing pieces created by Gregory and Damion. Enjoy!

An old colonial town. Or is it? Well… yes, of course it was. And today it houses modern day Jamaica. But the buildings deceive. Not in an ominous treacherous sense, as the pirates who once mored these shores would have had you believe as they dealt their counterfeit pieces of eight – but in a beautiful celebratory deceptive sense. You see, these buildings, pictured above and below, and complete with hanging window frame (thanks for that – it really made my picture) are in fact a mere 12 years old. Built (or commissioned) by a German company (unfortunately I only stopped here long enough to get directions to the nearby ‘Nonsuch Caves’, so I know little more) the interiors of these rooms are brand-spanking-new. As the giveaway air-conditioner on the left of the picture below, gives away.

I rather liked the modern day call to ‘Bingo’ hanging from this one above.

Bars as well as bingo abound in this town – so if you are interested in the history of rum as well as roofs, this could also be place for you. But beware of local “over-proof” or “downside” rum – as it might lead you into further confusion.

The Tale of Nonsuch Caves
Sounds like it might be interesting doesn’t it. Well, for us, on the day we ventured there, it wasn’t. Just up the road and the hill from this town are the delightful Nonsuch Caves. Alas on this particular afternoon we were unable to discover their delights. As we stopped for final directions at this (telling) gate, we were informed that at this time of late afternoon they were in fact:

And so, Nonsuch Caves remained as such for us. Another time, I hope. To make sure that you don’t miss their deep delights….click here for more information.

Instead of the caves we were treated to a private view from two local artists, perched high into the hills on the left as you wind your way to the caves. They sat peacefully at their easels, busily easing their way around a variety of pots to blend and create natures’ colours. Peacefully that was until I set the car alarm off getting my camera from the boot. I am learning (in addition to car alarm control) that it is important to keep your eyes well tuned-in to the surrounding jungle as you travel around Jamaica… the thickly nourished flanks to the road hide many pleasant surprises.

Keep your eye on this blog – an interview of the artist is to follow from Jermaine.

We spent the night at Goblin Hill. Now, I didn’t spot any goblins (or gremlin’s as one of their signs suggests) but the collection of luxury villas on offer here are surely a delightful retreat after a day up and down the windy roads from Kingston to Portland.

And there is something a wee bit Middlearth / Tolkein-esque about the views. During the day, this resort is a great leafy haven of lawned tranquility featuring palm-strewn views looking down onto the bay and beach. There is a refreshing, small, pool surrounded by quaint white wooden screens and garden furniture that harks back to colonial times. Beach lovers won’t be disappointed either as Frenchman’s cove and San San beach sit in the near proximity (click here for info).

During the evening the atmospheric outside bar comes to life. It is tucked neatly-into the surrounding bush, with an accompanying symphony of crickets and a chorus of croaking of frogs.

All villas are self catering, as well as offering a personal cook if required. Bring your own tea-bags and Blue Mountain Coffee for a morning brew. For a breakdown of prices visit the Goblin Hill website, by clicking here.

Kindly note: Do bring mosquito repellant.

Boston Bay is possibly the best place to sample all things Jerk in Jamaica and is also home to the island’s scrumptious “Jerk-Fest”, held on the 1st Sunday of July every year. Tonight I met David and Glen, the proud owners of Little David’s Jerk Centre. They have every right to be proud as their charcoal craft and concoction of spice and herbs has brought them the fortune of being awarded the accolade “Jamaica’s second-best jerk restaurant, 2007″. I couldn’t find the first-best restaurant, perhaps they had packed-up-profitably for the night to rest on their chargrilled laurels, and scotch-bonnet peppers of course.

And so, here it is…The 2nd Best Jerk Sauce In The World. EVER!..

Ho’ ho’ hot and a bottle of rum:

Rice and peas plus a heavy handful of veggies make for a delicious and honest homemade plate:

Price: On request, dependent on weight and varying from jerk stall to jerk stall. Bargain on a few hundred dollars, plus extra for sides, for a decent dish.

Ingredients: If you fancy making some of your own jerk seasoning, there’s a dozen or so suggested ingredients below to give you an idea of what you will need. I pressed David and Glen to give me the full list from their winning recipe…but every stall has it’s own secrets, of course…

allspice berries
brown sugar
cinnamon
cloves
garlic
ginger
nutmeg
onion
black pepper
salt
soy sauce
scallions
thyme
And Scotch Bonnet Peppers.

How to get there: Click here for google map…

Words and photographs by Oliver Wright.

As we travelled up the fertile, lush and nourished vermillion hills that form ‘The Junction’ track, connecting Kingston to the North Coast, we were relieved from the rain of the past month and greeted by sun-drenched pastures (sorry that is the British in me shining through – i mean sun-drenched plantations) and an array of tasty roadside treats. (These stalls that adorn are the Jamaican equivalent of service stations in Europe). First-up, standing out from the ubiquitous fresh mango, banana and orange stations, we found a smiley, gnarly, marley(esque) store owner, brandishing both a bottle and his good given name “Up-Front”.

If such a confident moniker for an island gent takes you by surprise – then you want to try a bottle of the ‘stuff’ he sells – made almost entirely from his roots. Mixed with a home-brew sugar-syrup that slides slowly from the mouth of an old bottle of rum like rich molasses. Let me explain. Up-Front takes roots, well, tree roots, bark and branches to be precise, from deep within the ground of the aforementioned fertile, lush and nourished hills – and boils them up for a few hours. He decants the residue into a bottle then throws (slowly, mind) in some brown sugar for good measure. The result is a mouth-watering, eye-watering concoction that is bound to shiver the timbers of any touristing pirate.

“Dem roots, dey make you strong man, dey give you de force. It hard. Drink it in de mornin’ when you need to go work”, he barks. “It better dan’ Viagra!” one of his loyal customers blurts. A pavement of patrons rolls about lauging. They beam brilliantly at me as I make an adventurous purchase (the things we do for you, kind reader!) and Up Front gives me a final farewell warning… “Don’t drink it at home man, don’t drink it at home. You make sure you don’t drink this stuff at home”. I’m not quite sure what he meant, but I doubt they’ll let me back ‘home’ to the UK on an airplane with it anyway! Until then, the souvenir bottle brews tightly capped in the trunk of my car.

Price: A bottle of root juice will cost you between one hundred and four hundred Jamaican dollars. Bargain well. For increased haggling power, bargain after drinking your first bottle!

Article and photographs by Oliver Wright. Video by Jermaine Evans.