Errol Flynn’s Swimming Pool in Jamaica
Tales from an itinerant writer #4
Engine failure
My boat’s gearbox had failed off Haiti while on passage from Cuba to the British Virgin Islands. There had been little wind overnight so couldn’t sail. We’d been making about 5 knots under engine when the gearbox gave up its ghost at about 05:00 hours. For several reasons Haiti was not a viable option for us to head for and we were becalmed for most of the day about 12 miles south of Île à Vache.
Then an evening breeze came up and my partner and I sailed back slowly to Jamaica overnight. The night was interrupted by an interesting encounter with the US Coastguard — it seems that the Caribbean is now part of the US — the Monroe Doctrine as re-defined by Roosevelt, apparently. Hmm. I’ll write about that encounter at another time.
The weather was variable with heavy showers and just after dawn we ghosted up a narrow channel between Navy Island and the main island, back into Port Antonio in Portland Parish on the north east corner of Jamaica. It was a nervous entry, with hardly any wind, a near-useless engine and a narrow channel through the reefs.
I would be tied up at the dock for a month, awaiting a replacement gearbox, and fitting it myself. That’s life for me. Cruising on a sailboat is short periods of sailing interrupted by long periods of fixing things. And writing.
A previous visit
We’d been to Port Antonio before, on our way from Bonaire to Cuba where we spent a month over Christmas 2017, but now had more time to kill waiting for the new gearbox.
Port Antonio is a safe town. It’s in a wealthy and safe parish and we were told the rich locals discourage development because tourism brings crime. Montego Bay is the big tourist center on the North coast of Jamaica, but it’s very dangerous, and was on the the US Travel Advisory Don’t Go list when we were in Jamaica.
Port Antonio is real Jamaica. There is a street food takeaway on the seafront called ‘Piggys’ which sells wonderful fried chicken and festivals. Festivals are finger-shaped cornmeal fritters sweetened with a touch of brown sugar. Wonderful! And of course there’s rum. As we walked from the dock to Piggys, the evening air would be fragrant with many aromas…and filled with the sounds of reggae.
Just across the bay from the dock is Navy Island, where Errol Flynn had owned a house and entertained (!)
Errol Flynn?
Errol Leslie Thomson Flynn (20 June 1909–14 October 1959) was an Australian-American actor. Considered the natural successor to Douglas Fairbanks, he achieved worldwide fame during the Golden Age of Hollywood. He was known for his romantic swashbuckler roles, frequent partnerships with Olivia de Havilland, and reputation for his womanising and hedonistic personal life. — Wikipedia
I’d heard stories that he’d been very well er…equipped…for his lifestyle. My mother disapproved of him. And Dylan Thomas. Whoever he was.
So, one day we climbed into our dinghy, headed across the bay and tied up at a ramshackle dock. Then we cut through the bush to what had been Errol Flynn’s house, later converted into a resort/club which went bust.
Errol Flynn’s swimming pool was still in evidence:
No, we didn’t tip our toes in it, but how many gracious, famous ladies had done so? We wondered.
We had many other interesting experiences while in Jamaica, and I’ll write about them later.
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