In my curious approach to the world I usually try to learn something about a country before I visit. I love to read a locally penned novel and learn something about the environment and history. Given our impulsive decision to go to Jamaica in the middle of the Abyssal Plain my resources were limited. Here are some impressions:

Sunday Morning: After the relentless beat of the Saturday night the stillness in the morning is only broken by the bleats of tethered goats and birds darting between the trees. As we drive west to sample coffee, Jamaica Sunday morning is unfolding. A little girl standing in the door dressed in pink for church is motionless but ready to move. By the end of the day I know she has learned at school of the Jamaican revolutionary heroine �" Nanny, a guerilla fighter against the British in the 1700s. Nanny's picture is painted on the walls of schools and is the history this young woman can step forward from. As we wind our way up the narrow river valley many are walking along the narrow road towards church in their Sunday best. The exception is the cement factory even on Sunday changing old reef to new reef like cinder blocks that will become homes soon. Some strange loop here with old reef material being made into concrete being part of our activities as humans that are changing the oceans acidity. That more acid or more vinegary ocean is bad for our modern reefs. . The construction in New York City hidden in the fog when we passed is releasing so much more carbon dioxide than this small 5 person factory in Jamaica. It is just the proximity of the old reef and the new reefs highlights the cycle. Cement even on Sunday.

Coffee: Atop the mountain we eat coffee berries picked for us by our guide from the only bushes behind barred wire and with a sign �" private property. The conflict over the fruit and the road is hidden to us by the language barrier but the red berry is delicious regardless of whether it was stolen or not. Inside is a familiar shaped bean only with a slippery pale green coating. We stop at a buiding with a tin roof, an open fire and a simple grill. The battered 1 gallon kettle is brewing coffee and the second generation coffee farmer is heating up a pot. As the mural of his mother looks over his shoulder he tosses in four handful of the green beans into the potand begins to stir with the metal spatuala. As the scratch, scratch of the metal on metal continues the pale colored beans slowly darkens. He lights another hand rolled cigarette slouching in the chair next to the fire persistently stirring. Scratch scratch. He never once used the word endothermic reaction or exothermic reaction to describe the roasting process. The beans turned from light brown to dark brown and suddenly almost black, glistening with oil. When the shiny dark beans begin to pop like popcorn the coffee maker put an oversized metal frisbee on the floor and empties the beans out of the pot. The smoke continues to rise from them as they cool. The coffee poured from the kettle over the first is smooth not need for milk or sugar. I think we are spoiled forever our search for a cup of coffee. No coffee cafes in Port Antonio. Donna who runs the marina explains the temperature means coffee is a private early morning affair so we continue to drink our in-port cappacino in the cockpit each morning.

Rocks in the Rio Grande: The rocks around the edge of Jamaica are the familiar limestone �" old reef material that so fits the sense of a warm ocean with reefs today. But there are mountains. Just like in Cuba something had to make those 5000 foot peaks. There are few rocks to be seen in our trip to the mountains because of the lush vegetation everywhere. I am also focused on coffee, birds, cement factories and Jamaican heroines. It is only when we ump into the Rio Grande the next day and I begin to notice the pebbles in the river bottom (bed) that it strikes me there are rock other than limestone here. There are rocks spit out by a volcano, rocks cooled in the center of a volcano and rocks formed in a big lake. Wow what did I miss yesterday. There are volcanic rock and rift basin sediments in the blue mountains. Hints of the geologic excitement (volcanos and faults captured here on the bottom of the river. I bring home a small collection of pebbles. Karl is always worried that I will sink the boat if I collect to many rocks. On our first Transatlantic I limited myself to one ice cream container (large) per island. This is a longer trip. Thinking I limit myself to one small jar from each stop we will still be floating when we reach home.

Jamaica Sounds: While the boat is not quiet the sounds are pretty regular. The gush of the water, the creak of the lines on blocks (translate: ropes gong around things) sometimes the slap of a sail or the clang of a halyard (another word for a special sailing rope use to pull the sail up the mast). Maybe the howl of the wind or the splashing of the wave. So when we pulled up next to the Friday bar scene in Port Antonio is was a big change. Music was everywhere. Pumped out of mini fridge sized speakers atop cars, out of the stereo in the car we took to see the island, Really bad kareokee oozing out of a bar on Sunday evening. Choirs both in the narrow mountain valley and along the dawn city street. We never found live reggae �" that will have to wait for another trip. My favorite music of Jamaica was Marcia the house painter at the marina. Atop her step ladder as she painted she would sing with her phone as backup. Her voice filled the laundry room and when you walked by you could see her toes covered in rainbow socks keeping time and providing a rhythm section.

Pelagic Jamacia: Clearly Jamacia has a maritime tradition �" fish are carved in the most unusual places like the bench in the bathroom, fish is on the menu everywhere but there was very little traffic in the east harbor where we stayed. On our last evening we took the kayaks on an adventure --- hoping to swim at the beach on Errol Flynns Island. The water was to shallow to swim from the beach. Even the ray swimming close by was exposing its wings as it moved. We considered circumnavigating the island until we realized we would have to cross the reef and we were not prepared for a deep water adventure and the sun was very low in the sky. We rounded the corner filled with white birds �" egrets cattle and white and a white ibis with a crazy bendy pink beak. There were the pelagic Jamacians. On the reef was a couple in a 20 foot long bamboo raft. The raft was like the rio grande boats, triangular shaped with a narrow front and a short platform bench in the back. The couple had stopped the raft on the reef with the narrow end on the reef. He was standing in the bow working a fish line while she worked on from the back. The cooler in between served as a bench and a repository for their fish. Then along the shoreline we met a young man walking backward wearing fins and carry at sack of fish. At last we had met some pelagic Jamacians.