Last Lepisode of 2001

[Mark Walker]

Avoiding cervical surgery no longer, and anticipating a rather long
recovery, I felt compelled to utilize unused airline tickets which were
about to expire.  The airlines' most unreasonable policy of requiring the
transfer itinerary be of equal or higher value than the original purchase
made choosing a destination rather difficult.  And with the impact of recent
global events on international air travel, this was made even more agonizing
due to what seemed like hourly changes in price.  Where could I go for
exactly $592 US - no more, no less?  Oh - one more criteria - preferably a
destination that isn't experiencing the climatic phenomenon we refer to as
winter.

Montego Bay, Jamaica - 12/7/01 Day One, Part One

Of course.  Jamaica, mon.  On Friday, December 7th (Pearl Harbor Day), I
flew out of Los Angeles with connection to Northwest Airlines newly
announced non-stop from Memphis to Montego Bay.  With precious little time
and money, I chose to engage Jamaica with only a rental car, an American
Express card, and $100 US.  Lesson #1:  Never do this.  First of all, those
VISA commercials are speaking truth:  they DON'T take American Express.
Second, $100 is hardly sufficient when you are venturing into unfamiliar
surroundings - and where you can't possibly know what to expect around each
new corner.  More on this later.

Jamaica is a fascinating place - geographically, historically, and
especially culturally.  It appears small next to neighboring Cuba, but is
actually quite expansive - boasting high altitudes (as high as 7402 ft) and
much habitat diversity.  I had hopes of seeing it all, of course, but this
was before I understood the complications of Jamaican backroads driving.
More on this later, also.  While waiting for my rental car (a Suzuki
Samurai), I was encouraged to see many butterflies on the wing.  I had
landed at 12:45 p.m., and was hoping to get a little lepping in before
nightfall, but my plans (ha! plans!  that's a joke) were to head immediately
into Cockpit Country, so I had to get moving.

They drive on the wrong side in Jamaica.  It's the right side, but it's the
wrong side.  Having enjoyed this Disneyland-like experience before (in New
Zealand, actually), I confidently assured the rental car company of my
international driving prowess, and zoomed out of the airport not even
knowing which mirror I should be looking out of.  Jamaica was a less safe
place to drive this weekend, thanks to me.  One problem is that it's not
merely the reverse of "normal" driving.  There's no true symmetry here.  For
one, the pedals are the same left to right (this is a good thing).  But the
stick shift is the same left to right, as well.  I found this difficult,
wanting to upshift away from my body.  Needless to say, I spent a lot of
time over-revving the engine as I accelerated from 4th gear down to 3rd.
Another problem is the fear of oncoming traffic.  I found myself hugging the
left shoulder in desperation.  More on this later, also.

Cockpit Country is a rather large and somewhat sparsely populated
mountainous area south and east of Montego Bay.  Every road that ventures to
it from Montego Bay is narrow and rugged.  Getting out of Montego Bay was a
challenge unto itself, and I lost a good 40 minutes fighting the bustling
commerce as I attempted to cross town.  Lesson #2:  Stay on peripheral
roads.  Jamaica has gone out of it's way to help you avoid town centres -
take advantage of this.

I finally found the right road, and quickly gained altitude.  As I saw
increasing lepidopteron life, I grew impatient (seeing as the day was
slipping away), and looked for a good shoulder spot to pull over.  Lesson
#3:  There are no shoulders on Jamaican roads.  And drivers have little
patience for clueless tourists who are gawking at scenery and looking for
places to pull over.  I finally found a marginal spot overlooking a wet
canyon, and hopped out to transform into more suitable attire.  I managed a
few stares, hiding behind my passenger door in only my whitie tighties
(don't bother with a mental picture here), and soon emerged - butterfly net
in hand.  After a few steps, I managed to find a deep hole hidden by thick
underbrush.  I took a bad fall, tumbling and hitting broken concrete and
rubble.  My pride was pretty injured, also, and I considered myself lucky
not to have broken any bones.  Lessons #4 and #5:  Don't ever trust your
footing while trodding alone through overgrown terrain.  And while you're at
it, you're better off NOT being alone in the first place.  Jamaica gets a
lot of rain, and erosion is active.  The ground is badly uneven and hidden
by the lush tropical vegetation.  One bad step and you may laying there for
a very long time - eventually being hidden yourself from the enveloping
plant life.  Already 50% numb from my condition, I was doubly foolish.  I
brushed myself off and decided to get on my way.  Those interesting
Swallowtails patrolling the canyon would have to wait.

As I continued on up into Cockpit Country, I beheld spectacular views of
what is some wild countryside.  Unfortunately, much of Jamaica that is
accessible by roads (primitive as they are) is surprisingly densely
populated.  Finding decent places to swing your net inconspicuously can be
difficult.  True wilderness areas exist, but these are accessible by trail -
and shouldn't be trodded on alone.  The good news is that there appears to
be plenty of native habitat alive and thriving among the masses.  On all of
my walks I noted strange plants of all sorts providing both good nectar and
larval host plant options.  The bird life was equally spectacular.

Just as I crested the top of these mountains I found myself driving into a
humanly derived road block.  There before me stood a broken down tractor
piled with young men from which three strands of yellow crime tape were
draped across the road.  I was greeted by the other half of this
opportunistic band of hoodlums.  They had taken it upon themselves to
transform the mountain pass into a toll road.  Lesson #6:  All roads are not
equal.  Small roads are great, but they come with no guarantees.  Seeing as
how I was going to have to stop and pay anyway, I decided to park and make
the best of it.  As I stood chatting and having fellowship with my new
friends, I felt the thrill of the spontaneous journey.  I didn't really know
where I was going, had made no arrangements for accommodations, and truly
did not know what laid ahead.

Boy, was that an underthoughtment.

Mark Walker
Oceanside, CA



 
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