A generation or two ago many Treasure Beach fishermen moved up to Fourka Beach in Clarendon for a while.

The story is told of one of these men who, after an evening of heavy drinking, decided, on the spur of the moment, that he was going to go home to Treasure Beach that very night. So, he jumped into his canoe and started rowing vigorously.

After hours of this ceaseless rowing, he caught the first glimpse of daylight and figured that he would shortly see the peak of Pedro Bluff off in the distance.

Imagine his shock therefore, when, a few minutes later, now sufficiently sobered up, he realised that he was still in Fourka Bay, his canoe tethered by a long rope to a stake on the beach!

Now, don't blame me for this story! It's just one of the many tall tales I got from one of my favourite "Old Salts" in the village!

That sounds like a good one. It was a lucky thing the boat was still anchored - he was safer I guess. That's a good one - hahahaha.

Yes; he certainly was better off rowing the liquor out of his system right there in the harbour! He probably would have capsized the boat and drowned if he had made it out to sea.

One of my old time Port Maria Bay fisherman friends was famous for taking of in his rowboat in rough weather with his whites and to come back with fish and empty bottle/s.

I have great respect for those that face the elements to bring us back our seafood.

And for sure I'm not condoning drinking and rowing cotton wood canoes through hell and back.

OMG!! that would have been another one lost at sea...thank God for the rope!! That was a good one..currently at work.. this one woke me up with my cup of coffee. LOL