 I'm strapped into a harness, standing on a tiny platform about 80 feet up in a magnificent tree, perched on the side of a steep cliff, overlooking the Jamaican mountains rainforest.
The sheer thrill of knowing I'll soon be zip-lining across a broad, deep ravine, secured only by a thin wire tied between two sturdy trees -- and the smiling assurances of a guide named Hollywood -- could be grounds for a panic attack. But not for me.
 I'm here for adventure. I'm on a mission. I want the best that Jamaica has to offer. And I'm not leaving without conquering this tropical island in my own way.
My precarious, perilous predicament ends well. I slam into a large cushion at the other end of this very long line after screaming like a wild banshee for more than 30 seconds. And so I soon discover my fellow death-defying adventurers have also survived. The thrill of victory kicks in. We're elated, energized, absolutely gleeful -- and we're soaking wet in this shady rainforest.
As we saunter down the hill back to our base camp, sharing fanciful stories of our death-defying conquest of the elements and gravity itself, we decide the perfect finale for this stimulating escapade is a healthy shot of Jamaica's national treasure: 126 proof Wray & Nephew overproof rum. Indeed, this legendary libation offers an equivalent thrill of its own on the way down -- and for several minutes more -- as we continue to reflect with amusement on our recent exploits through the upper canopy.
Suddenly and profoundly, I've gained a better appreciation for this clear, fragrant, potent spirit. In the way that spraying WD-40 on everything makes it work better, applying W&N-OP to special occasions offers a proven social lubricant that is both appropriate and traditional.
Back at our resort in Montego Bay for a brief rest, our quest must continue as we endeavor to discover the source and sorcery of Jamaica's famous cane spirits. We're off to the Nassau Valley, a lush, verdant basin in the island's interior.
But first, we're joining up with our host, Ms. Joy Spence, the master blender at Appleton Estate for a three hour bus ride through these rugged mountains, past myriad small villages on narrow, quaint roads.
 The bus is twisting and turning as we glance out the large windows at people going about their lives along the way. A copious collection of little rums shacks, dozens of churches, hundreds of homes dot the landscape.
At long last, we're surrounded by fields of sugar cane as far as the eye can see. We can almost taste the rum, but we have one stop on this itinerary before arriving at the distillery.
We're visiting the source of the pure, clear blue water that bubbles up from beneath the hidden limestone of Jamaica's core. The valley is surrounded by the limestone hills of the cockpit country, a vast karst environment forged eons ago as the surrounding mountains rose up from the sea.
 The water in this protected spring is an etherial, mystifying shade of azure blue. It's unique qualities lend special attributes to the rum we're about to discover. Two young boys play nearby, jumping into the water to cool off in the hot summer weather. It's an idyllic scene; a wonder of nature.
After a few photos, we embark for the distillery nearby. As we've been told along the way, it always rains in this neighborhood at about 2pm each afternoon.  We arrive through the gates of the estate just in time. At 2:15 the rain comes, cooling off the afternoon heat and providing the necessary refreshment for the sturdy cane grass that grows so tall all around us.
So, here we are. Far away from the tourist resorts, beaches, night life and popular vestiges of vacation amenities. We're in cane country.
This is where the juice of tall grass is converted into molasses, then fermented and distilled into the golden elixirs we seek. This is where Jamaican rum is refined, rested and blended to achieve mythical status among cane spirit aficionados the world over.
Joy is a delight. Her genteel manner and gracious hospitality are infectious. We feel right at home in the confines of the modern but traditional visitor's center, surrounded by displays and artifacts that relate the long storied history of rum on this island. The estate was established in 1649 to produce sugar. Evidence suggests that rum was being produced here by 1749. Wray and Nephew acquired the estate in 1916, bringing rum production in Jamaica into the modern era. During WWII, Appleton Special is developed as a substitute for those that enjoy whiskey during the difficult rationing period.
 After a wonderful tour of the facilities and a casual meal of spicy jerk chicken and pork with local vegetables, we're ready for a challenge. Joy has invited us to create our own blend of aged rums. We sit at tables with a selection of aged column and pot still rums of various hues. We smell them, taste them, endeavoring to discern their unique qualities. Now each member of our intrepid group ventures forth to achieve a palatable, if not enjoyable, blend of these elements.
It's not as easy as I might have expected. It's like Beethoven challenging me to write a short concerto for violin and cello. I'm lucky to strike a harmonic chord, much less deliver a score of any merit. Undeterred, I venture forth with my best effort.
I choose an aged column still mark for it's buttery nose and aromatic richness. Next, an aged pot still rum delivers deep oak and molasses notes, plus some hints of almond and citrus. My blend is beginning to take shape. Another heavy pot still rum offers essences of vanilla and cocoa, plus more old oak flavor. This is further balanced by a element of mild fragrance from a lighter column still rum.
My blend is not bad for a first-time hack. It's drinkable in my estimation.
The time has come for Joy Spence, master blender at Appleton Estate to judge our blends. I manage to score second best out of five amateur blenders, a feat that has me both proud of my first effort and in awe of her mastery of the fine art of blending spirits.
 As Joy relates her philosophy and the logic of her methods, I am impressed with her skillfulness in the science and art of producing consistently high quality products for rum enthusiasts. She brings her talents as an accomplished chemist who understands the nuances and elemental qualities of these labile fluids in concert with her fulsome experience working with past master blender Owen Tulloch to achieve unparalleled dominion in the making of great Jamaican rum.
Now I've seen her in action. I've tested the fruits of her labor in context, learned to have a greater respect for the challenges inherent in achieving success and I'm left with an overwhelming appreciation for all that goes into the production of making rum for me to enjoy -- by simply removing the cap and pouring one of her masterful blends into my glass.
I am again reminded of Beethoven -- and his famous Symphony Number 9. In achieving this pinnacle of success in his profession, Ludwig incorporated part of An die Freude ("Ode to Joy"), a poem by Friedrich Schiller written in 1785, with text sung by soloists and a chorus in the last movement. It is the original, preeminent example of a major composer incorporating the human voice on the same level with instruments in a symphony, creating a work of a grand scope that set the tone for the Romantic symphonic form.
Indeed, the master composer and I share an admiration for the classic beauty, majesty and harmonic qualities of Joy.
Robert Adams Burr
2008
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