Livin' la vida Cuba

Day 4



We get up early again, set for another 8 hours on the water. That seems to be about the average, except for the few days when we have jumped from Puerto Rico to the Dominican Republic, and then the Dominican Republic to Cuba. The fisherman arrives at our boat with 2 lobster and a huge fish, from which we cut about 2-3kg of fillet.



We go to his house for a picture with him and his wife. Its funny, you could easily imagine these guys at a Kiwi BBQ, or sitting at a cafe having coffee down town the Mount, but instead they live in this house that looks lucky to be standing - the walls propped up with sticks, and aluminium pot that is pitch black on the outside bubbling away over burning wood.



He waves goodbye to us, and we head onwards, up to a place called Vita, where we can check in.



We get there in the afternoon, and are greeted by 4 army men, 3 dogs, a doctor and a vet. They want us to give them the exact same information we gave the last guys, then they search the boat, though not the engine room. I mention that we have an engine room. One of the men looks surprised, and asks that I show him. The engines are still hot when I open up the trap door that is under the main room, which is the lounge/kitchen. He commands the dog to go in. It whimpers and sits on the floor, so he closes the trapdoor, never mind the ton of cocaine, weapons and contraband pornography that we are hiding under there. The dogs go wild over a cushion that they find in a mouldy old cupboard, so they lay out all our lifejackets and cushions, and find nothing. The whole process takes about 3 hours.







Day 3



We leave early for a place called Tanamo, not Guantanamo, just plain old Tanamo. The Cuba Sailing guidebook says that we may not be able to enter, as the Guardia are fussy.

After about 8 hours sailing we reach the entrance to the bay. Its a very calm and beautiful bay, reminds me of lake Waikaremoana. A few small shacks are dotted around the shore. We look for the guardia, but all we can see is a gutted watch tower, an old rusted concrete wharf and a couple of sunken ships. The book is about 8 years old now, so I guess a lot can happen in 8 years here.

A fisherman and his young son see us, and call us over to the wharf, indicating we can lash ourselves off there. The guy looks like Manuel from Faulty towers on steroids, he has the upper body of a gym junkie and not an ounce of fat on him. He sees our broken wooden/metal band, and indicates he can fix it. He rushes off at full pace, to return with a wooden stake that is flexible, yet hard. He and my father get to fixing the boat, my B.A. degree fitting me only to make the drinks. A small group of locals begin to gather. They marvel at the boat - a 40ft trawler, that would be considered in New Zealand to be a nice old boat that needs a bit of work. The fact that it has 2 bedrooms, lights, a fridge and a stove is amazing to them. It must look like a palace.



Before long the boat is fixed, and with a bit of bog and fibreglass, it won't look much different. We give the guy some beers, some fishooks, soap and $5 US. The fishhooks are prized here, as like most other things they are hard to get.

My father goes to his house for some coffee. He comes back and tells me the place was about as simple as you can get - a shack with dirt floors, hammocks and a small wooden fireplace outside.

We sleep troubled by the mosquitos. That's what you don't see on the brochures, the masses of hungry mosquitos that live in these temperate climes.









Day 2



We are anchored near the "Navy" wharf. The navy seems to be a conglomeration of coast guard, immigration and navy. Cadets play soccer on the wharf, piss off it, get haircuts, go swimming. They don't actually seem to do a hell of a lot.



There is a bit of the swell, so the boat rocks moderately all day.



My father goes into town to get some money for the diesel. As we cannot be cleared by this port, which is the logical place for tired sailors to clear into, he is accompanied by 3 or 4 officals. He said the town was very ramshackle and dilapidated, people travelled by horse and cart and bicycle tuk-tuk.



Later in the day they bring us the diesel - having travelled 20km in a taxi with big drums. We move the boat closer to the wharf, but there is a bit of a swell, and 6 guys look on as the boat crashes into the concrete wharf. It just goes to show that when you are boating you can't rely on anyone else. The boat is OK, as the damage is pretty superficial. It is to the band of wood that goes around the boat, a band that is much like the band you find on car doors, about half way down, in this case its made from wood with metal over the top. It may take a bit of fibreglassing, and bending of wood, which may be expensive.



We get the petrol, and spend the rest of the day sitting on the boat. We manage to buy 3 large fish of a local fisherman for about $4, not bad at all.