ADVENTURE > Exotic Cuba

The primary aim of our adventure was to explore the North coast of Cuba east of Havana. Paradoxically attractive, due to its unfortunate isolation, Cuba offers the last of un-spoilt cruising in the Caribbean. Our spirit was adventurous and simple - to fish, sail, camp and explore.

Our vessel was Olivier's creation in all respects. ENYA was 18 feet long with hulls of tortured plywood and curved hydrodynamic beams of the same. With plenty of volume up front, space enough in the hulls and rocker to match, she was a sweet boat. With doubled rigging and a well-stocked panic bag - we were all set!

Saint Martin sank below the rising sun and our first night was spent in antithesis at the Bitter End Yacht Club. The Baths, The caves on Norman Island and Foxies all provided their treasures and before we knew it we were surfing down a winter swell to 'El Morro de San Juan'. Our buddy Quique Figueroa was there to meet us on the dock - Cuba you guys are crazy!

With a convenient stop on Mona Island to visit the huge Iguanas and limestone caves we reached Dominican Republic. Zillions of coconuts trees lined the sandy white beaches of the north shore and the miles of turquoise blue reef enclosed shallows provided the most idyllic cruising environment for Enya. Unfortunately officials in the more remote locations were less friendly and the constant requests for money were quite frankly a pain in the knee.

After a very brief, nervous and illegal overnight stop on Ille de Tortue in Haiti we set off for our longest day - 112 miles to Cuba. It was a memorable crossing characterized by awesome surfing. Our first port of call was Baracoa - as it was for Columbus in 1492.

Customs and immigration formalities in Cuba are quite painless. All the necessary officials gathered at the quayside, Customs, Immigration, Guarda Fronteira and the Health Department. Everyone was perfectly polite, had pens, paper, could write and spell and we only had to give all the information once to one person.! Dominican Republic could take some notes!

By capitalist standards people in Cuba are poor, however in other respects so rich. Strong social values and a sense of community are everywhere evident. In Baracoa the streets are spotless. Music fills them day and night. The village was culturally alive. People read, communicate and are friendly - we felt perfectly safe.

The first 200 miles of the north coast are characterized by deep pocket bays with narrow entrances and not many beaches. Baracoa was the first and we found it a special place. It was difficult to leave - but we did and with a 'Despacho' listing all the possible stopovers between it and Havana..

Everywhere in Cuba the Guarda Fronteira keep a watchful eye on boat movements from rusty old lookout towers. As free camping on the beach was absolutely forbidden we played a cat and mouse game to select the overnight stops just out of sight. Close to a village we would always check in with the Guarda Fronteira and combine this with a trip to the market. Our diet was simple - fish and vegetables.

In general food was scarce - people surviving on the ration system. Larger towns sported   'dollar shops' with blackened windows and closed doors. Inside you could find a pricy range of capitalist goodies like olive oil and tinned food. Days and miles blurred as we explored the bays, villages and crumbling old colonial towns. The huge Bay of Nuevitas some 50 miles in diameter together with its large sugar cane terminal marked the end of this part of the coast.

The next 300 miles to Havana consists of hundreds of cays, which lie protected by an offshore barrier reef. On their south side they form huge protected expanses of water, on their north side an ever-changing landscape of blue. It was here we had come to play.

From Nuevitas and with special permission from the Guarda Frontiera we did not return to the sea but followed a small canal out its western end into the mangroves. Here we paddled and visions of the Amazon filled my head. Our diversion from the salty water bore fruit and we were rewarded with large glassy lagoons only a few feet deep. Flocks of scarlet flamingos exploded in the silence and we speared blue crabs in the pristine water. Almost constantly in water less than a metre deep navigating had to be precise. Detailed Cuban Hydrographic Survey charts and a hand held GPS were essential. We would find Guarda Fronteira outposts in the remotest locations where official duties were clouded by mere survival and it was many a time that we drank rum, traded food or shared a meal, without even a request for papers.

The frequency of civilized encounters increased westwards and conveniently we holed up on Cayo Guillermo for 5 days while a front whistled through at 35 knots and the temperatures plummeted to around 14 degrees. Close to Cayo Blanco we spent the night at a large natural Dolphinarium and were able to swim with them before leaving the next day. Soon we passed the string of tourist hotels along the Varadero Peninsula, we gybed aimlessly down the coast - it was our last day and we didn't want to stop. That evening by the headlights of and old Lada we entered the unlit entrance on Marina Tarara a few miles from Havana. Here we met a friend and cracked the champagne. We had taken 66 days to travel 1800 miles and we were just in time for carnival.