Distant Horizons

Cruising Cuba

By Bunny Thompson

Cuba. The word conjures visions of revolutionaries in green military uniforms, Hemingway fishing for marlin and tuna, The Old Man and the Sea, or a bearded Fidel Castro passionately speaking to a crowd of followers. It is almost the forbidden land for Americans, yet many Canadians and Europeans frequent Cuba as a vacation spot. An elusive paradise only 91 miles from Florida, yet as foreign and mysterious to most Americans as Inner Mongolia.
         Armed with Cuban charts, Nigel Calder's Cuba: A Cruising Guide and Simon Charles' Cruising Guide to Cuba, enough provisions to feed a small army, and all the information we could garner from the Internet and fellow cruisers, we decided to include Cuba in our cruise south through the Caribbean.
         We attained permission from the U.S. Coast Guard to depart the "security zone" simply by faxing the requested forms to the Seventh Coast Guard District Operations Center at (305) 536-5643. Permission was faxed back to us within fifteen minutes. Since it is not illegal to enter Cuba, just illegal in most cases for Americans to spend money there, we were graciously sponsored by Club Nautico in Havana for entry fees, the only funds necessary while in Cuba.
         The sail from Dry Tortugas to Marina Hemingway is an easy overnight sail, and the Gulf Stream was relatively calm and offered no resistance as we approached Cuba on a sunny February afternoon. We had intended to begin calling either Marina Hemingway or the Cuban Guarda Frontera when we approached the 12-mile limit. However, just when crossing the line, Marina Hemingway called us on the radio, pinpointing our position, direction, and speed of travel. It was eerie to know we were being watched so precisely.
         With a combination of excitement and cautioned anticipation, we entered the channel carrying us to Marina Hemingway, five miles west of Havana. At that point we could only hope we had all of our paperwork copied and composed correctly. At a small hut near the entrance, a uniformed official directed us to make a port turn after which we encountered several other uniformed officials, who aided us in tying alongside the bulkhead. Once tied securely, a barrage of more uniformed officials began visiting the boat in a most dignified and orderly manner.
         First came the immigrations officer, who inspected our passports, sprayed insecticide briefly within the boat for flies and mosquitoes and was followed by a duo of agriculture inspectors. They seemed quite satisfied with our supplies; however, we did have to boil the dozen eggs stored in the refrigerator. The Coast Guard followed. After about two hours of inspections, papers, carbon copies, stamps, and questions, we were directed to a slip where we were met by Marina Hemingway harbormaster Raphael. A nice- looking man in his mid-forties with graying temples and a soft, kindly manner, Raphael pointed out the ample amenities such as showers and restrooms and directed us to Club Nautico.
         Havana is a pleasant five mile walk along a tree-lined highway with a spacious esplanade between the lanes. A trip to Cuba would not be complete without a visit to this engaging city. As we began to explore the streets of Havana, the crumbling beauty of this ancient, colorful city revealed itself in the richness of its architecture. Exquisitely designed columns in a Neo-Classical and Romanesque fashion adorned buildings with once glorious balconies and towered pinnacles.
         During the reign of Fulgencio Batista in the late 1940s and early '50s, exquisite Mafia-based casinos were opened in infamous Havana, attracting the likes of Frank Sinatra, Betty Grable, and Nat King Cole. It was a time of great wealth and even greater poverty. In 1959, Fidel Castro and his band of revolutionaries overthrew the government of Batista and began the new period of Cuban Communism. It is well worth the time to read several books about Cuba, such as the Odyssey Passport Cuba, before arrival to aid your understanding of the history of this island.
         The Revolutionary Museum is housed in the opulent presidential palace and provides a wealth of information about the Cuban coup under Fidel, his younger brother Raul, and Che Guevara.
         Our host, Club Nautico, offered to drive us into the countryside to visit the Vinales Valley and the town of Piņar del Rio. It was a wonderful look at rolling hillsides and the dramatic landscape of the Sierra del Rosario. Small thatch-roofed huts neatly dotted the countryside, and dark-skinned men in straw hats drove oxen-pulled plows through the fields of sugar cane and tobacco. Chicken and pigs lived in harmony with the households and the environment.
         We stopped by a rain forest in Soroa where orchids grow wild and prolific in the trees and hiked to a beautifully cascading waterfall. Vinales Valley is a lovely area with stunning views of karst deposit mountains looking like mounds of clay molded by a child. It was green and lush with small tobacco farms filling the interior valley. A trip to this inland province is delightful and engaging.
         Unlike other areas of the world in which we have sailed, Cuban authorities mandate cruising vessels must declare an itinerary and check into and out of each port. We declared our planned ports of call, explaining our desire to anchor out during our stay in Cuba. This was not a problem, and even our loose schedule was accepted without question.
         We checked out of Marina Hemingway with few delays and many wishes for a pleasant voyage in Cuba. What a grand sailing day it was as we took advantage of the northeast winds to push us along in the deep water outside of the reefs of Archipielago de los Colorados to our next destination, Cayo Paraiso. We sailed less than a mile offshore off soundings, yet listening to the gentle waves break over the reef just off our port side.
         The water between the reef and the shore is an iridescent green as though it were a landscape painting with the artist drawing a line along the edge of the land with brightly colored brush strokes. We relaxed in the cockpit with a mid-afternoon cerveza watching the hills in the background grow into the mountains of Sierra de los Organos and Sierra del Rosario.
         Zing! The fishing line began unreeling off the spool at an alarming rate as we jumped to turn the boat into the wind and grabbed the pole from the holder. The line continued to spool off the reel as Mark worked the tip of the pole skyward in an unrelenting effort to at least slow the progress of our unknown pescado. The fish was in obvious control over the situation for the next thirty minutes as Mark endured this relentless pursuit of reeling in a little line, the fish commandeering a lot of line. Through perseverance and good fortune, Mark landed a regal 30-pound bluefin tuna. Since bluefin tuna grow to over a thousand pounds, we happily thanked Neptune for the gift of a small one and proceeded to ready this lovely specimen for dinner and the freezer.
         Through one of the quebrados, breaks in the reef, we made our way from the deep waters offshore to a lovely little island of mangroves, palms, and sandy beaches called Cayo Paraiso. The Cuban charts are very adequate for proper navigation, especially when aided by the excellent details provided in Calder's book.
         Cayo Paraiso was once used by Ernest Hemingway as a hideaway, and a small monument has been placed on the island commemorating this famous author. An attempt to build a small resort here appears abandoned since the wind and seas have shifted the sand beneath the open-air thatched huts.


         The water is such a clear, beautiful green it's difficult to judge depths, and the corals and sea fans appear to almost touch the keel, though the depth sounder indicates over twelve feet. We anchor in the lee of the island and immediately hit the water to explore the reefs along the north side.
         The Archipielago de los Colorados is a series of reefs stretching from Bahia Honda in central Cuba to Cabo San Antonio at the western tip of Cuba. It's great for snorkeling and fishing out of the dinghy, but the coral heads often extend to the surface, so care must be taken when navigating in this area.
         The trip along the northwest coast toward Cabo San Antonio is picturesque with few inland ports, so we anchor out with no other cruising boats in sight.
         Small fishing dories often row miles to sea with one to three men fishing with hand lines, suggesting the perfect picture of Hemingway's Old Man and the Sea. Local fishermen are more than willing to trade fish or lobsters for rum, beer, fishing hooks, and line. They are usually very reserved, but, if you extend a smile and wave as they pass, they will stop by to talk and share information about the reefs or fishing in the area. Most don't speak English, but with a cursory command of Spanish and a good Spanish/English dictionary, you can communicate fairly well.
         As we anchor along the coast, we have not been awakened in the middle of night by roaming Guarda as warned in the cruising guides. We even dared to vary from our original list of ports and enter into Los Arroyos. The local Guarda usually want to keep your paperwork until you're ready to leave, but they are quite pleasant, and we incurred no long delays.
         The passage around the western tip of Cuba--Cabo San Antonio--can be rough and uncomfortable as noted on the Cuban charts: Perpetua Rpte, meaning "Perpetually Rough." This is the narrowest point between the Yucatan of Mexico and Cuba where the Gulf Stream surges through a 3,000 meter trench at speeds of three to seven knots.
         According to our cruising guides, a northeast wind helps to abate the seas when running close inshore and takes advantage of the countercurrent flowing southward along the land.
         We anchored in a protected lagoon at Cayos de la Lena just west of Cape San Antonio to wait for an approaching cold front and the accompanying northeast wind. Leaving at daybreak following the passage of the cold front, we easily rounded the cape and crossed into the northwest Caribbean Sea with less than five foot seas and a gorgeous view of the deserted cliffs at Punta Del Holandes.
         By 1600 hours we were dropping the anchor in the deep, pristine water off the dive resort at Maria La Gorda ready for the afternoon cocktail.
         At Maria La Gorda we met Daniel, a young Guarda Frontera agent, who promptly showed up alongside our boat just after we anchored. Short and fair-skinned with reddish-brown hair, Daniel exuded the inquisitive and exhilarated nature of many Cubans. His smile seemed forever pasted onto his face and each question began politely with "capitan."
         A cursory search was intermittently interrupted with questions about family pictures and brief explanations about his family. We quickly realized Daniel enjoyed learning about other countries and cultures, and, if he ever had any problems or discontentment with Cuba, his smile or upbeat attitude never betrayed it.
         The next day we took our dinghy to shore and walked around the small resort tucked between coconut palms and deserted wilderness designated as a Natural Preserve. We stopped by the Guarda hut to drop off a National Geographic and several sailing magazines we thought Daniel might find interesting.
         Again, smiles, handshakes, and a soft touch on the shoulder displayed the genuine appreciation and sincerity bestowed by Cuban people we'd met. After a long walk on the sandy beach and snorkeling in the shallower waters along the beach, we returned to the resort in the late afternoon to find Daniel and several other Guarda agents frantically searching for us. A large thunderstorm was approaching, and we needed to secure the boat to one of their moorings just off the beach. The resort's dive boat had returned and was hurriedly unloading divers and gear before leaving the dock for a nearby mooring. The lackadaisical tropical atmosphere found earlier transformed into a frenzied scurry of people and equipment.
         Maria La Gorda is not a good anchorage with a lee shore close by during a north wind. Since the strength of the mooring was unknown to us, we pleaded to take our paperwork and head out to sea.
         "No!" insisted the elder Guarda agent. "No time! Viento malo! Rapidez!"
         We didn't need our dictionary to tell us the storm was bad and approaching rapidly. Without our paperwork to leave, we had no choice but to return to the boat, secure it to the mooring and brace ourselves for the storm. Within 20 minutes the clouds on the horizon thickened and turned from deep blue to black, and the winds picked up to 40 knots. Rain blew in sheets horizontally across the cockpit.
         We were prepared to motor into the storm, but it was not necessary since our quickly borrowed mooring held adequately. Within an hour the storm passed overhead, and we enjoyed an evening drink in the cockpit watching a spectacular sunset.
         The cruising guides warn of delays while trying to check out of port due to the bureaucracy of the Cuban system. At Maria La Gorda the next day, we went back to the Guarda hut to thank our friends for their storm warning and collect our paperwork to resume our south coast cruise. A delay of our departure did occur that afternoon. Not for the bureaucracy of the system, but because the three Guarda Frontera agents invited us to share a tequila drink given to them by a passing cruiser arriving from Mexico.
         They pulled a fresh coconut from a tree and mixed the coconut milk with the tequila drink in cola cans with the tops cut off and smoothed for drinking glasses. The gift from the cruiser was indeed precious, and the fact that they were willing to share it with us was a gift to be cherished.
         Daniel showed us the special place for the new magazines, which had been read by all and likely would be reread many times over in the following months. Instead of handshakes to accompany the paperwork, this time there were hugs to secure the unquestionable friendship of these otherwise adversaries.
         When I attempted to say in broken Spanish that perhaps the next time we returned to Maria La Gorda, the United States and Cuba would once again be friends, the elder Guarda agent acknowledged this as a possibility.
         "But we," he said, circling the tiny room with his arm, "we are already amigos forever!"

Look for the continued exploration of Cuba in the July issue of Southwinds.

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