Gerry G's TRAIL OF ASHES TOUR Final Chapter -- The Mighty Californian's return

[gerryg123]

It’s Sunday in a Negril, a perfect day, and I took extensive notes.

It was just me and Roger doing spear-fishing this morning, and I finally convinced him to a take us to a farther reef that no one ever goes to, and there were a lot of big fish and tons of lobster. I had so many lobsters and fish that I did not know what to do with them all. I gave two lobsters and some moon fish to Clarol at Seastar Inn because she asked – plus I run her ragged with all my little requests and complaints, so it’s only fair.

Beforehand, I hit the small soup stand next to Whistling Bird, the place is great – but no more chicken or meat; even the small-time operations are hurtin’ in the summer. There are hardly any tourists at all. I would go to Seasplash a total of nine times through the days – albeit usually in the mornings – and I never saw one single tourist there the whole time. Or next door. Or the next next door.

Of all the times I jumped on the boat or later got off the boat in front of the far side of the beach (far from Cliffs), I don’t think I ever saw another tourist anywhere near me – except at Bourbon Beach when Vincent picked me up and then Memphis Mike had to hurry and fetch my keys that I left on the bar.

Later, Memphis Mike and a Newbie from Canada and I all hung out at Westender Inn again, munching on Lionfish. I swam in the pool at Seastar Inn, chilled in the room for a bit and after countless subs decided I wanted pizza and that only Angelas from Bar B Barn would do.

I called at the appropriate time but the chef had yet to arrive. Then I called again, still not there, but made a deal for them to call me back when the chef got there – which they did. I was set to order a pizza to be picked up and was wondering the difference in price between a medium and a large. Simple enough, right, considering it’s their signature dish? It took quite a bit of going back and forth for them to figure this out – it’s Jamaica, of course, so I did not even blink – and when it was all settled I said: “Ya mon, do it up and please trust me, I will be there, and PLEASE don’t make me wait an hour once I arrive.”

They said no problem, and thumbs up, they came through.

I arrived at Bar B Barn, one of fav beach hotels (I have stayed there three or four times through the years), and the old security guard, Michael, was there back at his old post. When I had first met him years earlier, Negril was so safe in those days that when I checked in (first ever non AI experience, first ever solo), I didn’t bother with the lock for the safe when Mike escorted me into the room, and he said: “Don’t worry about it. You don’t even need it.” And he was right. Nothing was ever touched. Just a great vibe with lots of returning guests.

The pizza was ready, and when I opened the box it was like that scene from Pulp Fiction with the mystery suitcase: The Pizza was like it came from the Gods. I am a pizza aficionado, and it’s hard to find good pizza in Negril to a Brooklyn-Chicago degree, but this was it.

But don’t just take my word for it. I have video for later.