Cienfuegos to Puerto Frances : The south west coast.

2nd –13th April 2014

Our bus trip from Havana to Cienfuegos  took just over four hours and the time passed quickly as we skirted  rural farmland and sugar cane fields. We saw only two tractors working the many fields that  flashed past our windows. Abandoned and rusting parts lay by the roadside, weeds slowly engulfing them. A stark reminder of the many hardships brought upon the Cuban people by their government’s ideals.

Arriving back, GWTW was a welcome sight. It’s nice to get away for a bit of land travel but always good to come home. We were a little nervous leaving her at anchor, alone for a week but she was fine, just a bit grubby from the industrial fallout further down the bay. Nothing a good wash-down wouldn’t fix. We stayed one more day in Cienfuegos doing a quick bit of sightseeing around town and a little provisioning before heading off towards the west coast islands. Cienfuegos has some beautiful buildings and they have been much better preserved than those in Havana. It was like night v’s day wondering the streets of such a pretty city compared to that of the nation’s capital.

     

 

      

  With a lumpy seaway and a southeast wind, GWTW stretched her legs for the 40 mile sail to Cayo Guano del Este, an isolated rocky outpost staffed by two lighthouse keepers and their pets, two dogs and a goat, who followed them everywhere they went. The Cayo had a very grand lighthouse and we’d planned on going ashore to say hello and explore the surrounding reef, but the surge and strengthening winds kept us onboard. As the anchorage was becoming a little uncomfortable we spent only one night here before moving on to Cayo Sal the following day. Cayo Sal afforded much better protection from the prevailing southeast winds and the clear water and sandy bottom  gave us peace of mind that our anchor was well dug in.

We spent a lay-day here, doing boat chores, exploring the little cay and snorkeling the reef in the warm clear waters. It was a wonderful change after being land-bound during our recent travels. On the south side of the cayo we came across the ruins of what once would have been a beautiful yacht. A firm reminder of the strength of mother nature. nature. Laying forlornly on her side  badly holed and stripped of every last fitting both inside and out.

Our next stop was the island of Cayo Largo. We had a fast sail alternating between our jib and screecher as we crossed the  reef-protected blue waters of the shallow banks. We spent only two days in Cayo Largo. It’s a busy resort island that attracts a plethora of wealthy European travellers drawn by the calm waters, dazzling white sands and from what we’d read the fabulous and inexpensive scuba diving nearby. The place certainly appeared quite out of step with the rest of Cuba. At one end of the island there was a dolphin enclosure where the tourists could pay to have their photo with these wonderful creatures. It was upsetting to see these two beautiful dolphins locked up in the small shallow pen while all their relatives roam freely in the ocean just a few hundred yards away. By late afternoon strong southerly winds had kicked in but we were snug in our little anchorage sitting close inshore behind a long sandy spit.

Our main reason for stopping here was to complete our check-out formalities. The immigration staff were very polite as was the marina manager who came to our aid as a much needed interpreter.  When we had checked into Cuba weeks earlier on the east coast an official had neglected to stamp our tourist card (visa), and now when we wanted to leave the country it became an issue. The head of Cayo Largo’s immigration department was summoned  and after his very animated phone call to HQ in Havana it was apparent that heads would roll back in Santiago De Cuba when they ascertained who was responsible for this apparently monumentos oversight. We were assured that it was not a problem for us and that our departure paperwork would be ready by 11am the next morning. We are not lovers of going dockside but the Cuban officials had their rules. Before they would give us our departure clearance from the country they needed to inspect the boat for any hidden stowaways. The dock was pretty dilapidated  and we barely fitted alongside, a real tight squeeze with the wind pushing us onto it. Once again the officials were all very polite, they even put coveralls on their shoes before they boarded so as not to leave scuff marks from their black shoes.That was a first.

With papers in hand the next hurdle was to get GWTW safely off the dock. It ended badly. The maneuver was tricky with the wind pushing us sideways. As we let go the remaining port dock line and Liam thrust the throttles forward, the stern line found it’s way back into the water. After a loud bang, which had us puzzled for a moment, our port engine came  to a sudden halt. A mooring line had fouled the port propeller, snapping a staunchion in the process…bugger! We limped back out into the anchorage and after several attempts, cats don’t steer that well on one engine, we had the anchor set. Liam was straight over the side to investigate any underwater damage and remove the offending line that was wrapped firmly around our propeller shaft. It turns out that as the line gripped the spinning  prop shaft, it actually pulled the shaft and the engine aft causing the engine mounts to fail. They were still in place, albeit quite damaged. We could still use the engine, though we now had an uncomfortable level of vibration.  It was a given that our starboard engine would be in for a lengthy workout until we could  get the other one repaired back in the USA at the end of the cruising season.

After a crappy start to the day we chose Cayo del Rosario as our next destination, 20 miles to the west. It was a reef anchorage with good protection from the south, and we put the hammer down as we were now a couple of hours late and we were not keen on entering the reef pass in fading light. What transpired was one of our most nerve racking afternoons as we crossed the  shallow banks inside the reef. Half way across our depth sounder alarm started going off in stark contradiction as to what was on our charts, the  shifting sand banks were living up to their name. The wind had come up and now we also had short choppy seas making reading the water ahead of us nearly impossible. It was too late to retrace our steps so we furled the jib and pushed on. Our anxiety levels sky high with a possible grounding at any minute. Once we spotted a decent break in the reef we made a bee line for it and headed out to sea and  the safety of deeper water. It was a lot rougher out there but that said, it was still a good call. Cayo del Rosario proved to be an excellent anchorage. Arriving just as  a nasty squall approached we set the anchor as the rain and wind engulfed us, excellent timing!

The following day we just chilled out walked the beach and swam. Liam did some lobster hunting and scored a couple of nice ones after quite a bit of effort.They soon ended up on our plates for lunch. 

Just on dusk we had an amazing group of visitors stop by. A very home-built looking 30 foot open boat with bare wood planks for seats and an old truck engine as a motor pulled alongside. In it were eight guys and a  very pretty girl wearing a life jacket, they all looked to be in their all in their early twenties. The spokesman of the group, who had a good command of english, asked for directions to the next island which was only a few miles further on. It didn’t look like they had a chart or a compass let alone a GPS on board. They also asked if we could spare two AA batteries, we also gave them some packets of biscuits and  a box of muesli bars. Then they asked about the weather for the next few days and did we know how far it was to Mexico!.Our answer of around 300 miles didn’t seem to faze them at all. So what was going on here? Was this happy group making a run for a new life away from Cuba? We definitely think so. 

When we asked what their plans were, their response was “some adventure travel”.The seaworthiness of their boat made us think that they were unlikely to get very far. Feeling more than a little sorry for these guys we also gave them a big bag of clothes we no longer needed (you should have seen the girl’s eyes light up when she spotted a  couple of brand new bras in the bag!), along with some ropes and plenty of fresh water. They returned the favour with a few small lobsters, which was a really unnecessary but a nice gesture. Then they bid us a cheery farewell and motored off into the night. We often still wonder just where they ended up and if they made it to Mexico.

Next day we were on the move again, but stopped  for a few hours at another anchorage further west along Cayo del Rosario, a reef described by some cruising friends as a “lobster supermarket”. After 30 minutes and no sign of prey, we moved the dinghy to another patch of reef to try our luck again.Bingo, this time we weren’t disappointed. No sooner had Liam dropped into the water than he spotted a lovely big lobster sitting right underneath us. You beauty!  This spot turned out to be the best hunting grounds we’d ever had scoring five terrific sized critters in less than an hour. Liam might be the hunter but I quickly honed  my shills as a keen-eyed spotter, somehow I’d acquired the knack of seeing those fine, long whiskers gently moving in the waters below.

  

Only two anchorages remained  for us before we left Cuba and headed west to Mexico, Cay Matiese and Puerto Frances. As we were preparing to depart Cayo Matiese the next morning a small fishing boat turned up with three aboard, keen to do some bartering. They dropped two large tuna on our transom and asked for coffee in exchange. We didn’t really want the fish but also didn’t want to appear rude and unfriendly, so we graciously accepted them and offered the coffee, some cigarettes, soap and beer. They left very happy with the deal. It’s really hard not to feel for these people. Two of the men were well into their 60’s, the boat was in a  very sad state and they wore dirty clothes, life is very tough for them indeed.

After a 50 mile sail in fabulous conditions we arrived at Puerto Frances, a wide-open anchorage with a reputation for excellent diving. No sooner than the anchor was down and set we both hit the aqua blue water for our last swim in Cuban waters. We had  been in Cuba a little over four weeks and had crammed a great deal into time here. While we missed out on some sights we did feel we covered the major ones and had lots of opportunities to get a very real sense of the culture and lifestyle of most Cubans. 

Cuba is so removed in so many ways from other places we have visited, the socialism being the dominant variable. Cuba is a third world country in most respects. Technology, communications, finance, agriculture and transport are decades behind most western countries, with no obvious improvements on the horizon. However, the most remarkable feature of the country is undoughtably the friendliness and warmth we constantly enjoyed from the people. They always made us feel really welcome and were genuine and courteous wherever we visited. Touring this country of contrasts was not always easy and might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but  for us, the overall experience was certainly worth the effort.

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Havana : The Heartbeat of Cuba

28th March - 1st April 2014

 

As we women know men can be impatient creatures at times, so rather than wait for the afternoon bus which we”d already booked  to take us from Vinales to Havana, a sudden change of heart by Liam and Pete saw us catching a not so comfortable government taxi.  Leaving just after 10am the two hour ride had us speeding along an impressive four lane highway with little other traffic. Clearly, the excellent road system was funded by the old Soviet Union at a time when Cuba was a favoured outpost within spitting distance of the USA.

When you conjure up visions of Cuba it’s impossible to ignore Havana, the nation’s capitol. In it’s heyday it was a magnet for wealthy Americans and celebrities from around the globe, boasting flashy casinos, lavish hotels, decadent nightclubs and a fair amount of corruption from both the business sector and the government. Ernest Hemmingway, Nobel prize winner and enthusiastic fisherman, was practically a resident, while luminaries such as Frank Sinatra were frequent visitors. It was truly a vibrant city back then in the 1950’s with a tireless appetite for nightlife.

That all changed in 1959 when Fidel Castro turned the tables 180 degrees by leading the revolution and seizing power. It could not have been more of a contrast to the former style of government. Enter the regime of communism and socialism. Havana today still pulses, albeit to a very different beat.

Friends had  given us the address of a  Casa Particular (B & B) right on the Havana's’ waterfront. Perched way up  it had stunning views across to the Castillo (fort) on the headland opposite. Sadly though, Matha the owner had only one room available and with the three of us that wasn’t going to fly. She made a quick phone call and within minutes Manuel appeared, a jaunty fellow with smart clothes and nicely blonde-streaked hair, and he could accommodate us just down the road.

A rickety elevator took us up to Manuel’s penthouse apartment, he owned the entire floor so we were treated to ocean views and the malecon (waterfront promenade) on one side and the city on the other, although the city view was reminiscent of TV footage of Beirut after a bombing raid, it honestly looked like a war zone in places. With our comfortable abode all sorted, we set off to explore the city we’d heard so much about.

Our first impressions were definitely not what we’d expected. As we walked through the backstreets toward the heart of the city the overwhelming scene of decaying buildings, some occupied but many deserted, 50 year old cars belching smoke as they rumbled past, shop fronts with few goods inside and the scurrying of the locals going about their day was a little depressing to say the least

   

But once we got out into the more touristy area the scene couldn’t have been more different. The wide European style boulevard, Paseo de Marti, was lined with antique streetlamps the type you would find in Paris, there were park benches, shady trees and several statues of lions, a favourite with the former Spanish conquerors. In the centre of town we strolled down bustling Calle Obispo, a narrow cobblestone street with throngs of tourists, art galleries, music houses and heaps of restaurants whose jineteros (touts) were more than keen for our business

 

We poked our heads into the Hotel Ambos Mundos, a place frequented by Ernest Hemmingway. The bar area, adorned with a photo wall dedicated to him, was jammed packed with a couple of Canadian tour groups so we moved on and enjoyed a couple of cool drinks at a nearby bar with the ever-present guitar player strutting his stuff. It seems nearly every Cuban male plays guitar and sings, though the level of talent varies considerably.

Our first day was going pretty well as we soaked up the vibe that Havana is famous for but that changed dramatically when a guy who had been tailing me ripped my gold chain from my neck and took off into a side-street. I gave chase but couldn’t catch him, he was just too fast and quickly disappeared. Liam and Pete were further down the street and failed to hear my cries for help, totally unaware of what had happened until they saw me standing on the street shaking and crying. A local woman came to my aid, she’d seen the events transpire and called the police. What followed was an exhaustive period of questioning  at the police station, including a visit to a doctor to determine if I had any injuries.

A few hours later still shaken and upset we headed back to our Casa. It sure wasn’t a great  introduction to Havana. From our lofty vantage point on the 7th floor the sights and sounds of musicians doing their thing down by the malecon provided entertainment of sorts, we could easily hear a variety of instruments being played with gusto, though not always with great skill. Still, they were out there having a go and enjoying themselves, often well into the night.

Things improved the next day, we caught one of those popular open-top double deck buses for a tour of the city  and it’s surroundings The commentary was pretty poor so we didn’t glean as much as would have liked, good thing we had our trusty lonely planet with us to fill in the gaps.

The route took us past the Hotel National which was built in the 1930’s and modeled off “The Breakers”, a very ritzy hotel in Palm Beach, Florida . In the late forties the ‘National’ gained notoriety when it was used by US mobsters to host the biggest ever get-together of North American mafia under the guise of a Frank Sinatra concert.

The old hotels and casinos of the late 50’s still stand, though a bit tired looking these days and many have been converted into residential housing for the masses. A little further on was a stretch of rocky waterfront where swimming was popular though it didn’t look that enticing to us. Next up was the Memorial Jose Marti, Havana’s tallest structure and the Plaza de la Revolution, a huge concrete car-park-like square surrounded by drab looking government buildings featuring facial profiles of Fidel Castro and his easily recognizable lieutenant, Che Guevara. Guevara’s face is on everything from books to art work and caps to t-shirts.The man is an absolute Cuban hero. The tour also drove through leafy Vededo, an up-market suburb with large, well kept homes and gardens, many of them the residences of politicians, expats and ambassadors.

  

That night we headed back into town to checkout the nighttime Havana,  and dined at a nice looking restaurant, again with a lively musical accompaniment. The menu read well with lots of local dishes but the food was terrible. After having had a couple of disappointing experiences the executive decision was made to stop wasting money and spend it on quality meals at the five star hotels instead. By and large the quality of meals in the state run restaurants is not brilliant and quite often we found that many dishes on the menu were simply not available.

Havana Vieja is the older area of the city and it was our favourite part, a real delight. It was home to some beautifully restored  buildings, impressive churches and quiet little squares tucked between boutique hotels and cobblestoned streets. The tall buildings combined with the narrow streets provided us a cool respite from the heat of the afternoon. Quite by chance we stumbled upon the Plaza Vieja. You really would have thought that we’d been beamed up and plonked back to earth in an Italian piazza. Children played around a large fountain adorning the centre of the square and up-market shops, outdoor restaurants, cafes and bars completed the picture.

There was even a very stylish brewery in one corner which, judging by the lack of vacant tables was doing a roaring trade.Our “out of Cuba” experience was short lived though. We took one wrong turn just a stones throw from the plaza and  in the blink of an eye were back into the run down area of the city once again. 

A popular meeting area is Parque Central, a very pleasant park right in the centre of town. Here we would regularly see groups of men vigorously debating the merits of various baseball players and games, it was pretty amusing to watch.

And just to spice up the scene a couple of young lads jumped up on some steps and hoisted cardboard signs denouncing the government and Castro. They yelled their ideas to the many onlookers and very soon, like within a minute or so, attracted the attention of the ever-present police. After a brief chase around the park both were nabbed and led away in handcuffs, their signs disappearing very quickly. It seems you don’t knock socialism, at least not publicly in Cuba, lest you run foul of authorities. Unconfirmed rumors of overcrowded jails filled with Cubans whose views don’t align with those of the Government were not uncommon.

Meanwhile back in  tourist central  just along from the Capitolio National, a grand building that bears a remarkable  resemblance to it’s Washington DC equivalent, a beautiful hot-pink Chevy convertible with cream upholstery caught our eye. It was a 1951 classic and we just had to go for a ride with the top down. The one hour ride wasn’t cheap but it was one of those things that you just have to do when in Havana. Linda, the owner, told us it took 4 years to restore and was a constant challenge to maintain.

Due to the trade embargo parts from the USA cannot be imported, so they have to come via Mexico or Panama at extra cost or be manufactured locally. Since there are thousands of these old Fords, Chevys, Buicks, Oldsmobile's and other makes, the task to upkeep them is massive so substitution is essential. Many have been fitted with diesel engines from Europe and sport disk brakes and revamped suspension with only the body shell still original.

By day four we’d practically walked our legs off but there was still so much more to see. We took in a couple of museums with the highlight being the Museo de la Revolution housed in the former Presidential Palace. In order to keep the corrupt presidents who once resided there in the style they were accustomed, the interior had been decorated by Tiffany's New York and the grand room of mirrors complete with it’s ceiling art work and lavish chandelier was a clone of it’s name sake in the Palace of Versailles.The displays and information in the museum were quite fascinating and gave us a good insight into the events surrounding the revolution and what has transpired since.       

The outdoor exhibition contained vehicles used during the revolution including tanks, planes and the 18m vessel the “Granma”  in which 82 revolutionaries, including Guevara and Castro, sailed from Tuxpan, Mexico to Cuba in December 1956. The yachts sits pride of place encased in a glass pavilion and is guarded 24/7.

   

                

Next morning we parted company with Pete and were picked up by our Transtur bus and headed back to Cienfuegos and GWTW. Pete stayed  in Havana a few more days before flying to Miami and on to Australia. So that wraps up our time in Havana.

 

 

We enjoyed out time here, the good, the bad and the ugly, that’s what makes the place tick. Our overall impression was that it was once a very beautiful city that has lost it’s gloss over time. Sadly it is crumbling piece by piece with no funds to resurrect it. We were glad that we’d had the opportunity to explore but were looking forward to getting back on board GWTW and exploring some of the isolated anchorages that lay ahead as we journeyed further westward.

 

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Cruising info : Transport :Infortur offices in Calle Osibiso can book Transtur or Viazule buses to major destinations. Havana – Cienfuegos CUC 20 pp.

 Internet:  Excellent Wi–Fi is available at Parque Central Hotel  business centre,CUC8 per hr, high speed connection.

Accomodation : Prices are slightly higher than elsewhere CUC 30-35 p/nite. 

Money: ATM’s can be unreliable. Visa  cards are more widely excepted than MasterCard.

Footwear: Lots of walking so take comfy shoes.

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