Men's Journal




NO, THE GANJA HAZE drifting over Jamaica isn’t making you see things. There, a mile off the island’s west coast and reachable only by boat, a ramshackle bar really does rise on rickety log stilts above sandbar shallows. Originally banged together by enterprisi­ng local Floyd Forbes in 2001, the no-frills, no-bathrooms establishm­ent ( just pee in the ocean like everybody else) now attracts thirsty fishermen and tipsy tourists alike. And if a hurricane blows it apart, Forbes and his pals collect driftwood and palm fronds and patch it up again. You’re drinking: Ice is replenishe­d daily, so cold Red Stripe, of course, with a chaser of SPF 50.

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