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Jump-Up
May 25, 2007

Ronnie drove us across the island to the Rainforest for the aerial tram ride. A lot further than I expected but it's probably the roads rather than the mileage! The canopy ride is like a very warm ski-lift. When the guide wasn't explaining something about the flora or fauna it was perfectly quiet... well, when I say perfectly, there was the birdsong from the forest, the quiet whirr of the cable car and the odd cough and splutter from its inhabitants... But there's no such thing as total silence any more... Is there?

It's completely fascinating. The rain forest canopy trail starts at 600ft above sea level and travels about a mile round trip, rising to 1400ft. The Ficus tree was probably the most amazing inhabitant of the forest we saw. growing from the top, downwards, it strangles the host tree, eventually joining up its grappling branches to completely take over the tree it grew down! Well, that and the Babao tree [I believe, but only this Machineel entry seems to match what I recall of the description]. So caustic that if it rained, water dripping from it would burn you.

Suddenly, on the way down, we are surrounded by Hummingbirds, flitting too quickly to photograph, but only a couple of feet from your face. We pass a vanilla vine, which grows up to 90 metres long and was only germinated by a particular type of wasp. A wasp that is now extinct so the germination must instead be done by humans who risk blinding themselves due to it's caustic nature. And all this for Chanel No. 5 [I think!?!].

We get back for lunch at Jambe de Bois and go through the cocktail list again before heading back to the sun-loungers to ready ourselves for Gros Islet's famous Friday Night Jump-Up. Reading a particular passage of David Toop's Haunted Weather I start listening to the sounds around me from the sun-lounger. [Caution "Waxing lyrical" moment ahead]...

To my right the waves break gently over the rocks, accompanied by the odd call from the gulls and squawk of the blackbirds in the coconut palms.

The motor boats of fisherman and water taxis pan right to left as they head back to the harbour.

The odd car horn sounds in friendly recognition, cocks crow... and something that sounds like a skylark passes overhead.

A couple of horses gallop by... and reggae comes... and goes... on the breeze.

Kids voices, from the thin strip of beach to my left, are raised in excitement as another six is hit into the bay and one of them wades in to retrieve the ball.

Cars rattle over the grids covering the storm drains....

And I must remember all of this... When I'm back home listening to the sirens, lorries and late night arguments of the South Circular... back in SW2.

The Jump-Up is quiet when we arrive at 7.50. We meet a dread, originally from Catford, trying to sell Snapper on the waterfront, as well as the odd bit of weed. At Scotty's we start chatting to a guy referring to himself as Sir Charles... Turns out he's from Colchester. We buy him a Red Stripe and chat about tourism on the island. You can make a lot of friends here if you actually go out and meet them... But most folk don't. They pay thousands to Sandal's or whoever and barely leave the confines of the resort.

Jump-up is the night that they are mini-bussed into town though to experience a bit of "island life". But they don't really. There is a show put on for them until they leave at about 10.30 and then the locals get down until 3.00 or 4.00 in the morning with Sound systems in full effect, chickens on the BBQ and rum flowing.

We buy the landlord in Scotty's a drink when we get the next round in. Sam's rum and cokes must be at least trebles but he's just dancing, grinning and pouring. I ask to try his home made Spiced Rum, much to the amusement of the guys at the bar. It is seriously strong. It looks like that Cinnamon Aftershock stuff but is far more potent. I pass a swig to Sam, mainly so I can do it in two shots rather than down in one and save a bit of lining from my throat. When I go to settle up later I find it's on the house.

We gently sway back out into the crowds and Bob Marley is still playing for the tourists. The more serious tunes are going to start up soon, but we have to be on the "Yellow Submarine" in the morning so we wander through the back streets back to the Bay Guest House. The "semi-submersible" is not something I want to encounter with a serious Rum hangover!

Categories: Music, Food & Drink, Travel

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