Kwame Falls wasn’t worth the hike

Since embarking on Weekend Escape, I have been subjected to some difficult journeys. Being young and mostly fit, I never imagined being overcome by any challenge. That resolution was put to the test last Friday when we set out to find Kwame Falls in St Mary.

Armed with our usual optimism we typed in the required information into Google Maps and drove on enthusiastically. After driving the 30 minutes from Port Maria to a community called Pimento Hill, alarm bells should have sounded in our minds that this would not be the day we were expecting.

Our directions said we should have been at Robin's Bay, yet here we were so far inland we had lost the view of the ocean. Nevertheless we followed the GPS (global positioning system) as far as we could drive then continued the rest on foot.

A sinking feeling washed over me.

"Would this be the episode where our hubris would be our demise?" I wondered, careful to maintain a brave face for my fellow reporters who had so happily joined my excursion.

Fear sets even as I put up a brave face,. "We nuh lost man, come we just walk until we hear water. We nuh lost man," I said.

After 10 minutes hiking uphill under the baking sun heat that the trees did nothing to mitigate, we made the hesitant decision to turn back. This was it, I thought, until Everton, a mild mannered farmer from the area, showed us where we had erred.

"No man, unuh guh up too far. Unuh shoulda turn off a di pig pen and go down," he said, pointing.

Hope rose within me once again.

"So you can carry we then?," I asked trying my best to make the question sound like a foregone conclusion.

Looking at me from the corner of his eye, Everton informed the team that the hike to the falls would be one and a half hours of rough terrain.

Our jaws collectively dropped.

After many sheepish looks between the four of us we agreed to undergo the journey. Everton was now armed with his machete and promised to pick guineps and chop cane on the way, then we started the journey.

As we laboured to our supposed paradise in good company and our bellies full of guineps, the views of the water that sometimes peaked through the trees made the journey easier.

Once again my decision to wear shorts came back to bite me in the behind. Whether it be the mosquitoes that seemed to prefer my blood to that of my contemporaries, or the forest of greenery that took every opportunity to scratch me, an hour into the hike my legs began to give way. Uphill and downhill my burning calves started to melt together. The only thought keeping me going was the beautiful waterfall I was sure I would experience at the end of the journey. Wrong again!

As we neared Kwame Falls, Everton resumed his mission to hype up the beautiful flowing waterfall. The sight that broke the trees was a green puddle of stagnant water that had what amounted to a trickle falling unto it.

Sections of the mossy water were filled with mosquito larva and had a faint fish smell that made the air sour. This was not what we were promised.

As I stood there in stunned disappointment, I was forced to appreciate the beauty of the hike we had just endured. This was not a trip for the faint hearted. Though the destination was disappointing, the two hour journey was a hike to remember.