Jamaican relaxation comes in many forms, variety being the spice of life and all that awesome philosophical stuff. Beaches don’t have a monopoly on “chill out” time – a leisurely float on the river is just as relaxing as some plot of sand or lounge chair. Sitting on a slowly-moving raft is just like laying on the beach, except you’re on a raft. In the shade. On a river. Okay, they’re nothing alike.
As I mentioned in a previous post, we were staying at FDR Pebbles near Falmouth. (As an aside, I cannot be the only one who looks at Falmouth and thinks “foul mouth.”) A taxi took us the short distance from our hotel to the launch dock for the hour-or-so long trip down the Martha Brae river on 30-foot bamboo rafts. And I don’t think there were any safety inspectors to check the river-worthiness of those vessels. It adds to the experience, trust me.
Our river captain (we’ll call him Charles because I think that was his name) was sort-of famous. He showed us a poster promoting Martha Brae rafting, and there he was, smiling crazily with a couple of equally happy rafters behind him. In fact, you can see a picture of him too at the Jamaican Traditions web site – the picture of Captain Charles is at the bottom. But if you want to see him in all his current glory, here is in, cutting up a piece of fruit for us. If your raft captain didn’t give you fruit, well, it sucks for you.
The trip isn’t all about relaxation – you can do some shopping, too. If you forgot to buy beer at the launch point, there are plenty of entrepreneurs along the way who will be happy to sell you more. And not only beer – you can also buy food or clothing or towels, or whatever they happen to have at the moment. They shout out at you (in a nice way) on the way by, and your captain will slow down to let you make a purchase. Apparently, Captain Charles was related to at least one of these vendors, so the Martha Brae experience is a family affair.
If you’re lucky, you’ll get a singing captain like ours. He did a nice job. We didn’t get a singing gondolier in Venice, but we got one in Jamaica. At least somebody sang.
We were sad to reach the end of our trip down the Martha Brae. Well, probably not Captain Charles, since he got to go back to the start again and make more money. Andrea and I were happy to see our taxi driver waiting to return us to our hotel. Otherwise, that would have been a long walk, especially in sandals. Had we wanted to hang out a little more, there was a bar, of course (try going anywhere in Jamaica without a bar nearby) to watch the raftsmen at work.
