In search of Falling Edge Waterfalls
IN TRYING to find the answer to a question that was asked of me over the phone, I went online to find out exactly where Bowden Hill Primary and Infant School is. I found out that it’s in the hills of northwest St Andrew, but I also read where it is not far from Falling Edge Waterfalls.
I have never heard of Falling Edge, and I reflected on my vertigo. To get there, would I have to walk on precipices, or were the falls themselves thundering over a cliff that drops way below? I found some online photos, and I immediately decided to go check it out.
The account of people who have been there did not mention any precipices, but mosquitoes were singled out. I got the impression that the walk from the primary school to the falls was a relatively easy and short one. Good. So, I called up the person who had asked me the initial question and suggested that we go see these falls for ourselves. The suggestion was accepted, but deep down the precipice question was still raging.
The following day we went to Stony Hill, from where we would divert to Bowden Hill. We were warned about the bad road conditions. We did not heed the warning. A taxi driver who plies the route also berated the road. To begin the journey, he instructed us to pass a breadfruit tree and then a bridge. How’s that!?
We pass the tree and the bridge all right, but a woman standing near the bridge told us to go straight up. Typical way of giving directions in Jamaica. So, we continued ‘straight up’.
And up, and around, we went, along narrow, tree-lined, winding roads on the sides of mountains. The road was not as bad as people said. Or so we thought.
When we reached another iron bridge we were told, again, to go straight up until we reached the primary school. There were more mesmerising views, and more curves around mountainsides.
Bamboo trees danced and welcomed us. And then the conditions of the road shifted from bearable to shameful and scandalous. This is a road to a primary school, where the children of the local government minister, who is responsible for roads, do not attend, and where his wife does not teach.
The rough road terminates at the school gate at a flat piece of land where we parked. Based on what we read online we went down a path to the left and thus began the foot journey. We walked on pieces of board and bamboo over a brook that flows to the Hermitage Dam, we later learned.
We trod on a narrow, wet path through thick bushes on either side. But I realised we were walking on a hillside nonetheless. The path was cut through the trees. At this juncture I was glad no precipices confronted me. When we reached a fork in the road, we paused before choosing the left.
That was the right decision, for we arrived at another twoway junction, where a neonorange arrow painted on a tree points to the left. We heard the falls in the distance as the path dips. As I emerged from a sunken place, I found myself on a
precipice. Horror of Horrors! I refused to go farther. I was not in the mood for any histrionics.
So my friend went to see what was around the bend. A few minutes later, he called to say he found the falls. I told him to take pictures. As I waited, the mosquitoes I read about online descended upon me. They were in a frenzy for fresh blood. The lovely Jackfruits I saw on a very tall tree were not helping, either. So near, but so far, just like Falling Edge Waterfalls.
My friend returned with the pictures. The fall is not overwhelmingly grand, but it is a nice scene as it drops into a waist-deep pool. I made a promise to myself to return, and I will. Back at the school, we met two female Israeli nationals living here. They, too, were searching for the falls. Since we were leaving, three youngsters who we chanced upon opted to show them the way. Hope none of them has vertigo.