Marko had mentioned a red-plate driver named Manny for dirt-cheap local prices for cabs. For a mere ten dollars, the guy was willing to drive three of us – me, Kevin and his Montego Bay girlfriend – all the way to Half Moon Beach, sit there and wait for us for two hours, then return us to Seastar Inn.

Even a bargain hunter like me thought it was too little and offered 20 dollars, and away we went. Half Moon Beach is a special place that I try to visit on every reach because it’s totally secluded, and never ever ever are there any hustlers or anyone trying to hustle you or give you a sob story or anything like that.

We rolled up, then Manny rolled up. We jumped in the cab and made a right down the hill, past the roundabout, through seven-mile and the RIUs, about 15 minutes further just past Rhodes Hall to Half Moon. It was as beautiful as I had remembered, but Murphy’s Law set in soon after our arrival with some rain. Would you believe it? The only significant rain in my 12 days in Negril happened to occur when I was twenty miles away on a secluded beach. But we found shelter and made the most of it, and the trek was still a lot of fun.

I met John there again, the old British expat who is always at Half Moon. He didn't remember me, but he didn't lie about it, and I give him two points for that.