Back in the old days before holidaymakers came looking for sunburn or the "flower people" came looking for ganja, Negril was a small and insignificant fishing village - on the mouth of the river sandwiched between the cliffs of the west end and the 7 miles of beach to the north is the commercial centre of town. We made quite a few pilgrimages down here for shopping at the hi-lo supermarket and several more just to eat food and nose around.

At the mouth of the river there is this rather rusty boat. Apparently it came all the way from Hedonism way way way way up the other end of the beach during hurricane Gilbert and has now been colonised by crack-heads.

Coming from the beach there is a sizeable craft market, the river and then the roundabout, around which the bustle really kicks in with along with plenty of hustle (you want to change some money? run a mile!) people selling stuff (oranges) and lots of shops - both the clean tidy asian-run ones for tourists selling exactly the same tourist stuff as each other and the slightly rougher ones for people who actually need the normal stuff of life and not just t-shirts which say "no problem" on them.