2014 Cuba
I
so enjoyed Cuba the previous year that I knew I would have to return
before relations with the USA were normalised, so when I left
Portsmouth going south it was time in the Bahamas or more time in
Cuba. The American crew had not been to Cuba so it was a good
opportunity for her to see the real thing. Unfortunately her conduct
while in Cuba would has only left a bad impression. In my case it set
the scene for her departure.
We came in through the headlands overlooked by the famous Spanish
castle at the entrance to the Santiago de Cuba harbour just after
dark. The channel was well lit and the GPS and charts are very
good. I had been here before so knew my way towards the marina but you
have to be careful that you do not encounter a large ship exiting the
narrow entrance. The low fuel situation just added to the stress of
landfall but when I called the Marina on VHF to inform them I was
entering i received the normal warm welcome. We were going to make it
without a mishap or running out of fuel.
We approached the Marina which is on the southern tip of a peninsular
on the eastern shore of the inlet. I dropped anchor off their eastern
quay, folded the sails and put Malua away after a good and successful
ocean passage. I poured two strong rums and settled down to cook a
great meal before falling a sleep into a deep and well deserved rest.
The Drug Squad
The following day I again contacted the marina manager who asked me to
come alongside and wait for the authorities to arrive which they did
within the hour. As always in Cuba there are many many forms to
fill out. I had previously prepared a sheet of paper with all
Malua and her crew's details in both English and Spanish. This helped
the situation as each authority did not have to
ask the same question. The first to board was quarantine and the
Doctor. All the normal questions about sickness, plague or death
on
board. How are we feeling? Are we sick or feeling off
colour etc etc. Then the stamp on a form and they stepped off the
vessel. Next came the immigration and port authorities. They are always
easy so that did not take much time. The last is customs and the drug
squad. They either give you a very cursory check like last time
or do a very thorough job. There are three men in big
boots. The boss plus one other plus a dog “handler” Well this
time our profile must have set the alarm bells ringing. They did the
usual, open every cupboard and look inside with a hap hazed search then
came a sniffer dog. The dog, a black Labrador was completely
uncontrolled and on instruction jumped on top of everything and was
guided to every possible corner of the boat. No untoward smell for him
but wait there is more. A second dog was introduce who while more
controlled still went over everything. Just when I thought that it was
all over they asked me to open the hatched in the cabin sole to look in
the bilge.... nothing then they asked me to remove a screwed in panel
along side the main cabin bunk. Well what would they find, some
old shaving and may be a few grinding of some fibreglass. Out
came the torches and dogs but nothing. Uncontrolled the dog
bounded towards the companionway and struggle to get up the five steps
into the cockpit. His claws scratched the varnish. That was
the end for me and I immediately approached the senior officer and
started to complain that they need to control the dog. I was on a roll
after being subjected to close scrutiny for mare than an hour.
What did it get me? Nothing but a reduction in pressure build up.
I found out at sundowners the following day that the German yacht next
to us had had a similar experience and the authorities found some
drugs. The owner had to pay an on the spot fine and was warned that if
he did it again it would be goal.
My Local Friends
Having now entered the country in a fashion quite different from my
last experience when I was alone I needed to get to meet some of my
local friends. I walked out the marina and down the road to
Pedro's house. Still the same three roomed run down
establishment. His wife Rose was home but the husband and son
where out. I had prepared a few bags of goodies I knew they
needed like sport shoes, walking shoes, T-shirts and electrical
items. They where well received and Rose offered to do my
washing. Not much but a way I could increase their supply of US
dollars. I soon contacted the friendly private taxi to take me to
the airport to change my dollars into local currency, the CUC and then
on to the international hotel to purchase time on the Internet to send
an update. Like always in Cuba the Internet is sloooow so
updating used up most of my hour and downloading more than a weeks
worth of email grinds on.
After this we where back in the car to find some food and return to the
marina. I dropped in to Pedro's house to a warm greeting.
He had done well off me the last time I was in town but now I was wiser
and had the experience to know how to handle my money. We agreed
the terms that if I gave him money to purchase goods for me I would pay
the going rate for locals and after settling I would give him a
commission. Things started off well for a few vegetables however
when we came to get some ham and smoked pork it started to fall
apart. I parted with much too much money and only got half the
quantity we actually purchased. The following morning I was asked
if I would like to go to a music club. Now I had been bitten the
previous year by Pedro's son who took me to two clubs. The first
was good but the second was in a hotel. We entered via the locals
entrance – I had to show some ID but that was nothing. Then came
the drinks: “it is cheaper to buy a case of beers (24) than singly” Ok
one case but when he ordered the second I started to object but it was
too late. The story gets worse but that is now water under the
bridge. Pedro knew the score so we set off for an evening of
music in Santiago. After visiting a number of music clubs where
there was either music for tourists or no music we settled on a club
way out of town.
There was some negotiation about the entrance charge but Pedro seemed
to settle that. We joined a table of two young couples with only
one being able to understand a few words of English. We had a few
laughs, more than a few drinks which Pedro had organised via a waitress
to be purchased from the bar across the street and secretly given to us
each time we ran low. A sort of BYO but not official. The
food as always was good and quite inexpensive. In fact a good
time was had by all but I was fading fast and needed to get home to
sleep. We exited the club and called our private taxi who took us
back to the marina. This is when the pressure started to be put
on me to pay an extraordinary amount of money for the two way trip into
Santiago usually about $40 CUC. I gave the driver $50 and flatly
refused to give any more. He and Pedro lost my and many other
people's custom that night. I switched to another taxi.
I returned to Malua to find the crew missing. She stumbled down
the companionway as dawn broke, completely drunk out of her mind.
She had also lost her money, purse and bag. I found them the
following day on the dock along with some wink wink, nudge nudge, from
two young lads about my crew being a fun girl! That was only the
start. Their phone photos told more than that.
An Inexperienced Traveler
Along the other side of the wharf was the German yacht and its four
crew while astern of them was a New Zealand yacht with Captain and
crew. The Captain's son was scheduled to arrive that day from NZ
on his first overseas trip. I spent a great evening on board
watching the crew, Lizzie's videos of her Galapagos and the Amazon
tour. What a professional production. The captain's son had
done the editing. We had just finished a great screening when my
crew arrived with the German boat's crew asking the son to join them to
go to a night club in Santiago. Off they went.
Some time after midnight my crew appeared to say the son was missing
and the father should drive into the city to find his son. A very
worrying turn of events. The father return to the marina at dawn
with son in tow. He had been led astray by some locals lads while
trying to find a taxi. They beat him up and took his money.
He stumbled to the hospital who fixed him up and assisted him to the
police station. The father after searching the town started back
to the marina in the taxi but was stopped by the police. He
explained his situation and the local cops phoned the central station
only to be told the son was there. A relieved father collected
his son, a much wiser lad. My crew arrived back on board well
after dawn only to leave a few hour later for some land travel which is
a story in itself.
Refuelling
With the crew gone I was able to focus on Malua and the refuelling
task. I had ordered 200 litres of diesel to be delivered to the
wharf which was arrived in a 110 l steel drum with the remainder in ten
plastic jugs or jerrycans. The challenge was to transfer and
filter that quantity into the two tanks on Malua. I had set up a
good fuel/water (Baja) filter which would do the job and a 12 volt
electric
transfer pump so it was only a case of lifting the jugs onto the boat,
switching the pump on and waiting for the container to empty. It
went surprisingly quickly with little mess and no water or grit in the
filter all for a price of about 1 CUC ($1.10) a litre. Malua was
now ready to embark on the next leg of the journey. I only needed
to top up fresh fruit provisions and a good quantity of local rum.
Cuban Rum
Like most Caribbean countries who grow sugar cane Cuba makes great
rum. The world famous brand is Havana Club while it is very good
and range in price from 8 CUC per bottle to much much more the best
value rum is that which the locals are able to purchase for their own
consumption. To get a large quantity I had to turn again to Pedro
for help. We set off with my two 10 litre plastic containers to
meet a woman who “had” a quantity for sale. We arrive and like
everything that Pedro touched it had a catch. We had to wait –
only 20 minutes while Pedro and the daughter would go to fetch the
rum. Two hours later they returned with a full 25 litre paint
container of my rum. I was prepared for the inevitable haggle
about the pre-agreed price but this time I had only brought the correct
amount 5 CUC per litre. Malua was now supplied with all the
correct liquids. “No Officer that 10 litre container in the food
cupboard is not rum but dark vinegar…..you can see the label.” What a
good drop that was, lasting all the way across the Pacific to Fiji.
Time to Leave
The crew returned with a series of tales about her land travel and the
people she had met. An real eye opener for a girl from the
USA. It was time to leave. I had refuelled, re-provisioned,
washed the boat and washed most damp and wet things. The official
check-out went smoothly and without hitch.
I said farewell to the New Zealand yacht not knowing how that contact
would unfold down the line. We where off to Panama or so I
thought. Follow our cruise to the next
stage here….
Some
photos here
Follow Malua.
