Mel Cooke, Gleaner Writer

CRANE ROAD is tucked to the starboard side of boats' bows rising into the gentle swell as they emerge from the Black River's broad mouth into the Caribbean Sea.

This is Jamaica's south coast, nowhere as storied as the north noast with its tales of idyllic frolic and concrete castles of all-inclusive fun.

Ann Ewart has been living in Crane Road, accessed by an unheralded, marled turn-off from the main road at the eastern side of the bridge over the Black River, for "'bout 30 years or more".

Like many residents of seaside communities, her income is dependent on the sea.

Fortunately for Ewart, unlike many others, she has another stream of income, the 'Bridge Foot Bar' at the entrance to Crane Road. Otherwise she would be, in Jamaican parlance, 'salt'.

"Long time my boat nuh go sea," Ewart told The Sunday Gleaner. Her boat, Sweet Rum, which is bobbing dockside at Hendricks Wharf across from the river with vessels such as Miss Tiffany, Warlock, Sir Patrick and Captain P, has not been out for about three months.

"Fish nah ketch," Ewart explains simply.

The Sweet Rum has another role, though, as Ewart says she does tours up the Black River. "When no fishing no gwaan you do it. A so you haffi do it," she says.

The upriver journey goes past the riverside communities of Broad Water, Gail River, Salt Spring, Slipe ("you can get crab") and as far as Cheeze Rock. After that "the river still continue, but no attraction is there".

A few years ago, Crane Road had serious encounters with crocodiles and - for the record - it is the community which has encroached on the reptile's habitat, not the other way round.

Crocodile attacks

Although the encounters are not as widely reported in the media as before, there are still tall tales about tall tails.

Ewart says that "just the other night" a crocodile was on the main road in front of the shop. "Him know where him a go," she said. "Me no know if a dog him hear."

The residents, though, knew where they did not want the crocodile to go to, as Ewart says, "When we give him some lick him go back."

That crocodile was about six feet long and Ewart says, "You have some mampy one". "Bout 14 feet," a man listening in on the interview proffers.

"Me not even keep no goat. Dem tek dem. Dem nuh business. When yu fling afta dem dem dive an come back.

"Whe evening we out there an hear a puppy cry. By the time we come out, him gone," he says.

While The Sunday Gleaner is at Hendricks Wharf, the Mr Nice Guy heads upstream and Ewart says it is coming from Treasure Beach and carrying visitors up the Black River.

A trip up the Black River from the town costs $1,000 per person, that amount doubling for the run up the coast from Treasure Beach.

Ewart, who has worked as a security guard and a bus conductor, found a way to make a living from the sea without venturing on to it.

Doing business

After living in Portmore and going between expanses of concrete in St Ann and the fusion of sea and river in St Elizabeth, she chose to live in the latter. "Me jus' seh me a do business. Me start with a table over the wharf. Right at the bridge foot," Ewart said. She sold drinks and snacks to those who came in on the large fishing boats.

These included the conch divers, Ewart explaining that a single boat carried up to 100 men.

She moved on to a shed and took drinks on consignment and, pointing to the 'Bridge Foot Bar', says, "Me buil' that, buil' me house, help me mother. A woman no haffi depen' pon a man. From you work, a put yu honest best out there, you mus' succeed.

"Me no seh me no get help from a man, but mos' a what me have is mine."