The highest point is the Blue Mountain peak, which stands at 7,405ft, which is considerably higher than Ben Nevis (UK’s highest at 4,409ft) and over twice the height of Snowdon (Wales’ highest at 3,560ft). As you descend upon Jamaica aboard a jet engine the peacock blue sea is only interrupted by the piercing ascent of a lush green mountain range whose sides slide straight into the sea like a pleated jade tablecloth. The terrain is steep and the mountain sides are smothered in a rich and dense explosion of flora. This is where things start to get very exciting for a mountain biker that has been trapped inside a plane for eight hours together with a symphony of screaming kids on half term break. I was to be a part of the twelfth annual Jamaica Fat Tire Festival. A week long laid back roots, rock and rum tour where the only rules were that riders had to enjoy a drink after the ride and lycra, although not banned, was frowned upon.

As I stepped off the plane in Montego Bay the thing that first struck me was the sweet perfume of Jamaica. Warm and scented with tantalizing reminders of the amazing food, flora, land and people that I met on my last trip. Stepping off the plane in Jamaica is like slipping into a comfy pair of slippers and a warm bath, except the slippers are blue suede dancing shoes and the bath water is rum flavoured.

After a sunset drive along the north coast to Ocho Rios, where for most of the journey the bus driver attempted to get the bus up to take–off speed, I was deposited outside a hotel entrance that had a bar and sandy beach within view. I was making a quick mental calculation as to what order I should indulge in these delights when a hand rose from a table and waved at me. I was not expecting to know anyone at the hotel as Andy Giles, one of the organizers, had informed me by email that I would have to occupy myself whilst the rest of the crew was finishing up the day at the Bicycle Bash at James Bond Beach. However, Facebook is a wonderful thing and the hand was attached to a digital friend, Marshall Paul, who I had befriended in the community hall of the internet months ago. Marshall Paul loves Jamaica more than Charlie Sheen likes the nose candy and each year he spends several weeks relaxing and revelling in the beauty of the place before returning to Toronto where he works as a sound engineer and part–time Jamaican Tourist marketeer. I had never met Marshall in person before but I immediately felt at ease in his company, like the thread of biking had always held us tied like old friends. This was a feeling that was repeated throughout the week as I met other new friends. We bantered like old ladies catching up at the weekly knitting circle as I stowed my bags and bike away in my room then we stepped outside for a drink and some long overdue food. Jerk chicken and plantain was on the menu and the flavour festival of the week began.

The next morning I awoke to the pale blue sky of pre–dawn light. A jump in the sea as the sun rose freshened me from the flight and shallow sleep then I was ready to get into the rhythm of the island on my bicycle. The ride that was planned was a drive up to the hills around Ocho Rios then a slick singletrack slip and slide descent which followed the Dunns River to the sea. You may not recognise the name Dunn River but if you are old enough to of have been riding bikes around the time of the first TV screening of Dale’s Supermarket Sweep then you may remember Level Vibes, one of Hans Rey’s legendary videos in which he rides his bike up a tropical waterfall and hops along a floating bamboo raft. Well, that was all shot on the Dunns River and I can tell you from my experience of just walking up that waterfall that Hans Rey is a mutant from the future because it is almost totally unfeasible that anyone could have ridden up that waterfall.