Paul Williams, Gleaner Writer

After the more-than-five-hour gut-churning ride on the Jamaica Defence Force Coastguard HMJS Surrey, Middle Cay, the largest of the Pedro Cays, located off the coast of St Elizabeth, comes into view. From afar, its white sands sparkle, but a closer look reveals a long line of huts made of zinc sheets.

Anchor drops. Canoes of shirtless men circle the boat. A canoe is tied to it. The descent into the canoe is shaky, but the ride to the cay smooth. A few coconut trees bid a silent welcome. Upon reaching land, one of the signs of man's impact on the environment, garbage, is everywhere.

Mixed emotions

After much conversation with some residents and a forty-five minute tour of the cay, there are mixed emotions - contentment at the peace and tranquillity and grief at the effects of the ravages of man, and his scant regard for the preservation of his environment. This cay could well have been paradisiacal, but not even paradise lasts forever. So, it's back to the drudgery of life in St Andrew.

The bumpy canoe ride back to HMJS Surrey is indicative of the ambivalent experience on Middle Cay. One would love to go back some day, but one would never want to see such decadence again. As the Surrey pulls away, snapshots of the natural beauty of the place appear. These will be the lasting memories: magnificent frigate birds soaring and hovering over the glistening turquoise Caribbean Sea; fluffy white clouds lingering in clear, blue skies; powdery ivory-coloured sands sparkling in the glow of the sun; masked booby birds nesting in the grass; a graveyard of pinkish conch shells framing the southern sides; sixteen coconut trees swaying gently in the balmy breeze; itinerant hens and roosters peeking for food.

And the Surrey rocks, and rocks, and rocks, while Middle Cay rots, and rots, and rots.