The end of the road

After visiting the brewery, I continued east towards Port Royal. The road soon turned to dirt and rocks, and it called for a 4WD rather than the tiny Suzuki Alta I had rented for the day:

But what the heck. That's what rentals are for, right? Abuse? So I continued on another 15 km until I reached Camp Bay. It may not be the end of the road, quite yet, but it was for me. With my legs threaded around everything in the cramped driver seat, continuing on with a manual transmission was just too painful. I could barely get the stick shift into first or second gear, seeing as how my right leg wanted to occupy the same space.

Fortunately there was a convenient rest stop awaiting me, since I hadn't had lunch and I was getting pretty thirsty. La Sirena, the siren of Camp Bay:

 

I slipped past the sleeping dogs at the foot of the gangplank and walked out to check it out. Yet another ex-pat American had settled in to run this fine establishment, accompanied by his very young assistant Carmela. You'll find her in his arm as he prepared by lunch, a serving of conch ceviche and crackers. Sharp eyes may note that my beer is a Red Stripe - how could I possibly drink one of the Miller local products right after what I had just heard?

 

After some relaxing conversation, I turned back towards West End. I was seriously concerned about running out of gas on that 15 km stretch as the fuel gauge had suddenly dropped from maybe an eighth of a tank to the red zone. Made it to a gas station, though. After buying a few gallons (at a price equivalent to about $2.85 a gallon), I went into the expansive but largely empty convenience store to get a soda. They must have thought I was quite a threat, as I was shadowed by a security guard carrying both a machete and an automatic pistol.

The rest of the drive back was a real thrill as I navigated what appeared to be island rush hour. Major craziness on the road, and potholes galore to dodge. The most interesting passage came close West End where all of the traffic was detoured around construction. Through a gas station. Literally - you had to drive past the pumps in one lane of traffic moving both directions. Again, security was heavy. This time the guards were walking around with pistol-grip shotguns. Good grief.

(As usual, you can click on any of the thumbnail photos to see a larger one.)

Comments

[C Velo]

Can't look at those pictures too long - makes me want to cry/drink/travel (or all three) - you certainly look nice and relaxed sitting in the thatched hut ;-)

[HopkinsEssie20]

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