Squamch
Active member
The Blue Mountains, Ontario.....nope.
The Blue Mountains, Australia....nope.
The Blue Mountains....Jamaica🇯🇲!
A few months back, we decided we wanted to do a family vacation, all inclusive style, which I've never tried. I was concerned. I'm normally the guy who gets up at 5, works til 430, then works on a side job or a project until 9pm. I'm no good at sitting and doing nothing, cause I have very little practice at it.
My wife suggested I find some kind of excursion to do, "fishing, or a hike, or whatever."
Well, when you Google "dirtbike jamaica" there's really only one result; IrieMotoTours.com
I emailed Kyle, and asked what kind of riding he offered, I'm more of a medium enduro guy than a adv or dual purpose type guy, and didn't want to be disappointed. He told me he had everything from scenic roads, to "oh my God, why are we here." Option B sounded delightful.
I sent a 50% deposit via pay pal, and packed my helmet and knee braces. He has full kits available as loaner gear, but....I don't really wanna share a helmet in the Carribean. It's a sweaty place, y'know?
Now, there was a small hitch, which is that he is located in Kingston, and we were staying in Montego Bay. They're not exactly opposite, but they are on different sides of the island....and at different ends. No fear. The Knutsford Express bus line runs from one to the other! A $64 USD round trip ticket, and I left the resort at 430am to catch my 515 bus...to arrive in Kingston right on time for our 9am meeting!
Kyle currently has a fleet of CRF250L's, and after gearing up, we rode out from his shop, onto the left side of the road😳. Despite the chaos that Kingston traffic is, we stayed on quieter streets, and I learned to use my horn Carribean style. 'Honk' means 'hey.' 'Honk honk' means 'I'm passing you' or 'thanks for letting me pass you' or 'I'd like to pass you' or 'good morning' or 'I think you're pretty' or 'sorry I almost ran you over, but no problem mon' or..... I never heard the much more North American 'HOOOOOONNNNNNKKKKKK' that translates to '🖕.'
As we worked our way out of town, we headed up into the Blue Mountains, home of the world's most expensive coffee that doesn't go through a cats gut. Also home to some TIGHT switchbacks, beautiful villages, the Blue and John Crow National Park, and some absolutely spectacular scenery. We up into the clouds, still warm, but damp, and fog so thick that if it wasn't for broad leafed jungle plants lining the roads, you could have told me I was back home on the west coast, riding in the foggy mountains of coastal BC. The roads and trails we rode were everything from an old chip sealed road thay twisted across the extraordinarily steep hillsides, to two tracks through the coffee farms, with the occasional Chinese missile bike parked to one side where a farmer had ridden up to tend coffee bushes, or his goats. Goats. Watch out for goats. And dogs. The goats are good about getting off the road and out of the way, the dogs don't have quite the same instinct for self preservation. Keep in mind though, the goats are often dragging a 20' rope that they used to be tied to a tree with!
What I was really looking for though, was the single track. The singletrack wasn't cut with bikes in mind, pivot turns on switchbacks are common, these are multiple-hundred year old foot paths between remote villages. Tight, overgrown with grasses, or unidentifiable jungle plants, then occasionally threading between stands of pine trees, an invasive species, imported for a building lumber scheme that didn't work out. Then along side a river, crumbling limestone gravel, interspersed with rock gardens that tested the skid plates on the bikes. Then we would pop out into someone's backyard or driveway, carefully putt between a Nissan Patrol and the rusted, half salvaged remains of a Mitsubishi Pajero, back onto the rutted, muddy farm roads.
A word on those roads. They're fun. Very little traffic, and none of it as fast as a bike, but...don't over ride the bike. I went down, and crammed some exotic and unusual stuff into my elbow. We cleaned it as best we could, but on my return to Canada, my doctor was really excited about the "weird shit" I had growing in me. Hospitals in Jamaica get mixed reviews. Get travel insurance! Make sure they cover leaving the resort, and motorcycles.
I can't say enough good about the experience riding with Kyle. Every local we talked to was friendly and welcoming, even waaaayyyy back where it took them 3 or 4 tries to get through to me! It seemed like most of the folks we saw in the villages knew him and were happy to see him and say hi and ask how the ride was going. Lunch was included, and I wish I could recall what the little roadside spot we stopped at was called. Even better than lunch though, was the coffee stop. We stopped to talk to some rastas, who were roasting coffee on an open fire, then ground it with a mortar and pestle, and boiled the water on the same fire, in a kettle that had clearly seen thousands of pots of coffee. Best cup of coffee of my life!
Did I mention that a beer at the bar next door to the shop is included with the day's riding too? A cold red stripe in a stubby brown bottle went down fast!
I'll ad some pictures in the next post, and see if I can figure how to post the video Kyle put together on Instagram..
The Blue Mountains, Australia....nope.
The Blue Mountains....Jamaica🇯🇲!
A few months back, we decided we wanted to do a family vacation, all inclusive style, which I've never tried. I was concerned. I'm normally the guy who gets up at 5, works til 430, then works on a side job or a project until 9pm. I'm no good at sitting and doing nothing, cause I have very little practice at it.
My wife suggested I find some kind of excursion to do, "fishing, or a hike, or whatever."
Well, when you Google "dirtbike jamaica" there's really only one result; IrieMotoTours.com
I emailed Kyle, and asked what kind of riding he offered, I'm more of a medium enduro guy than a adv or dual purpose type guy, and didn't want to be disappointed. He told me he had everything from scenic roads, to "oh my God, why are we here." Option B sounded delightful.
I sent a 50% deposit via pay pal, and packed my helmet and knee braces. He has full kits available as loaner gear, but....I don't really wanna share a helmet in the Carribean. It's a sweaty place, y'know?
Now, there was a small hitch, which is that he is located in Kingston, and we were staying in Montego Bay. They're not exactly opposite, but they are on different sides of the island....and at different ends. No fear. The Knutsford Express bus line runs from one to the other! A $64 USD round trip ticket, and I left the resort at 430am to catch my 515 bus...to arrive in Kingston right on time for our 9am meeting!
Kyle currently has a fleet of CRF250L's, and after gearing up, we rode out from his shop, onto the left side of the road😳. Despite the chaos that Kingston traffic is, we stayed on quieter streets, and I learned to use my horn Carribean style. 'Honk' means 'hey.' 'Honk honk' means 'I'm passing you' or 'thanks for letting me pass you' or 'I'd like to pass you' or 'good morning' or 'I think you're pretty' or 'sorry I almost ran you over, but no problem mon' or..... I never heard the much more North American 'HOOOOOONNNNNNKKKKKK' that translates to '🖕.'
As we worked our way out of town, we headed up into the Blue Mountains, home of the world's most expensive coffee that doesn't go through a cats gut. Also home to some TIGHT switchbacks, beautiful villages, the Blue and John Crow National Park, and some absolutely spectacular scenery. We up into the clouds, still warm, but damp, and fog so thick that if it wasn't for broad leafed jungle plants lining the roads, you could have told me I was back home on the west coast, riding in the foggy mountains of coastal BC. The roads and trails we rode were everything from an old chip sealed road thay twisted across the extraordinarily steep hillsides, to two tracks through the coffee farms, with the occasional Chinese missile bike parked to one side where a farmer had ridden up to tend coffee bushes, or his goats. Goats. Watch out for goats. And dogs. The goats are good about getting off the road and out of the way, the dogs don't have quite the same instinct for self preservation. Keep in mind though, the goats are often dragging a 20' rope that they used to be tied to a tree with!
What I was really looking for though, was the single track. The singletrack wasn't cut with bikes in mind, pivot turns on switchbacks are common, these are multiple-hundred year old foot paths between remote villages. Tight, overgrown with grasses, or unidentifiable jungle plants, then occasionally threading between stands of pine trees, an invasive species, imported for a building lumber scheme that didn't work out. Then along side a river, crumbling limestone gravel, interspersed with rock gardens that tested the skid plates on the bikes. Then we would pop out into someone's backyard or driveway, carefully putt between a Nissan Patrol and the rusted, half salvaged remains of a Mitsubishi Pajero, back onto the rutted, muddy farm roads.
A word on those roads. They're fun. Very little traffic, and none of it as fast as a bike, but...don't over ride the bike. I went down, and crammed some exotic and unusual stuff into my elbow. We cleaned it as best we could, but on my return to Canada, my doctor was really excited about the "weird shit" I had growing in me. Hospitals in Jamaica get mixed reviews. Get travel insurance! Make sure they cover leaving the resort, and motorcycles.
I can't say enough good about the experience riding with Kyle. Every local we talked to was friendly and welcoming, even waaaayyyy back where it took them 3 or 4 tries to get through to me! It seemed like most of the folks we saw in the villages knew him and were happy to see him and say hi and ask how the ride was going. Lunch was included, and I wish I could recall what the little roadside spot we stopped at was called. Even better than lunch though, was the coffee stop. We stopped to talk to some rastas, who were roasting coffee on an open fire, then ground it with a mortar and pestle, and boiled the water on the same fire, in a kettle that had clearly seen thousands of pots of coffee. Best cup of coffee of my life!
Did I mention that a beer at the bar next door to the shop is included with the day's riding too? A cold red stripe in a stubby brown bottle went down fast!
I'll ad some pictures in the next post, and see if I can figure how to post the video Kyle put together on Instagram..