Earlier, I wrote of the approach to Havana and clearing customs. I offered a glimpse of Marina Hemingway and historic, intriguing Havana -- the prices, services, and sincere hospitality you're likely to encounter. Like many cruisers, I've always savored the sights and scents revealed while exploring a new, foreign-to-me, town. There's something compelling about being a little lost, wondering if you'll find a bathroom soon, and having no clue what you'll end up eating for lunch.
But the salt water in my veins soon untied the dock lines and lured Panache back to the empty anchorages and creature-filled underwater kingdom. Havana was magnificent, but I yearned for the reef scenery and backwater dinghy trips.
My partner on this cruise to Cuba was Margaret Keller, who earns time to travel by teaching Spanish at a middle school in Pinellas County. She had never sailed on an overnight voyage before, but she was a trooper!
Clearing out of Marina Hemingway was simply a matter of more forms to file, broadly describing our planned itinerary. The ever-friendly officials asked about our timetable for the cruise, but I don't recall any suggestion of time limitations. Our plan was to day sail to the west end, then wander back to Havana for more sight seeing before coming back to the U.S.
Cruising west from the marina, you have several well-sheltered large bays within easy daylight sailing distances. Bahia Honda is less than 40nm to the miles west. By staying close to shore (1/2 - 1 mile off), you should be reaching in the easterly trade winds and getting a slight counter-current push from the Gulf Stream. Further offshore, the wind and currents collide and mess up the ocean.
Bahia Mariel (Barlovento) and Bahia Cabanas are potential overnight anchorages even closer to Marina Hemingway. We were advised to call la guardia (the Cuban Coast Guard) on VHF upon entering these bays as they maintain some military facilities nearby.
We had decided to go for Cayo Paraiso, another 15 miles west of Bahia Honda. This cayo (key, or cay) is just inside Cuba's northwest barrier reef, which rises from the ocean floor in the same region where the mountains form on the mainland. The chain of coral and keys (Archipielago de los Colorados) and adjacent mountains began some 70 miles west of Havana and continued almost to Cabo San Antonio at Cuba's west end. The opening in the reef we sought was not marked. The day was late, sun was low, and ocean choppy from a building breeze.
Relying on excellent "local knowledge" gleaned from the sport fishing captains at the marina, we bumped and bounced over a section of the reef. The instructions were clear, we just screwed up picking out a landmark on shore. No harm, no foul -- Panache had a new scar on her keel, while Margaret and I had simultaneous panic attacks. Once inside the reef, we anchored in 10 -12 feet of flat water in the lee of Cayo Paraiso.
In August '92, there was a very small thatched-roof resort (partially-completed) on this tiny island. The project was a joint venture between Spain and Cuba.
Aside from the few workers, this region was empty of humanity but bustling with marine life. A stunning section of reef was minutes away by dink (with outboard). Snorkeling in less than 20 feet of aqua agua, the fish, the coral, and the langosta pulled you from ledge to cranny. I had never seen such grand lobster out for a stroll on a sunny summer day! We feasted for the remainder of the trip. Gorgeous beaches, a tranquil anchorage - Cayo Paraiso, Paradise Key - that said it all.
Venturing back out through the reef was tense after our terrible entry. Better light, the calm morning seas, and a clearer understanding of the landmarks let us find the right exit spot. Like the Bahamas, the water is readable.
Our next planned stop was Cayo Jutias, a 30-mile jaunt west. The charts show a deepwater channel, buoyed for large ships, so the reef approach was easy. Once inside the reef, we found the sandy bottom while trying to tuck in close the key. On a falling tide, the first attempts to free Panache failed. With deep water near the bow, I set a kedge to turn the boat towards freedom. In the process, a tired steering cable broke. Now we did have a problem!
Margaret's good karma (and maybe her pleasant figure) was able to enlist a small tug-like workboat that luckily happened by. They had divers in the water, lines on the cleats, and Panache free before I could retrieve the kedge anchor. The "Little Toot" captain offered to tow us to the nearby port town of Santa Lucia for repairs. The crew seemed as happy to meet us as we were to find them.
Santa Lucia is a teeny, dirt road-and-simple-houses mining port. Mounds of copper ore separated the town from our new temporary berth. Tied off to a weathered but clean 30-foot wooden fishing boat, Panache looked out of place as I looked for a solution. Minutes after docking, a local official, cigar in hand, came by to ask what help we needed. I asked for several small cable clamps. Within minutes, a mechanic showed up with tools and the clamps. For anyone who has ever hung upside down, mashed into a cockpit lazarette, you'll understand why I could NOT pass this job off to anyone (except maybe a close friend you're pissed off at).
With a spare section of cable spliced in, the steering was fixed. We used this detour to walk the town, chat with the local folks, and see a small piece of rural Cuba. The unpaved clay roads were smooth as a freeway. Tropical fruits and flowers filled the yards and roadsides, and there was no litter. A truck was being loaded with pastries and birthday cakes, bound for a weekend party at the local beach. The people we met seemed proud of their community and equally happy to share it with us.
A day later, we waved good-bye to some of the rescue crew, planning to meet them again further down the chain of islands. The cost for the cable clamps - a sincere handshake. There was the mutual respect of amigos.
The next stop became our turn-around spot. When we reached Cayo Buenavista, about 45 miles from Cuba's west end, the sheltered keys were further and further away from the barrier reef. The sandy beaches were replaced by mangroves, and the crystal blue water turned a milky green. As a stopping point en route to Cabo San Antonio, this area would be well-protected with a fairly easy entrance through the reef. There was a working light marking the east side of the channel, with 15 to 30 feet of water through the cut.
The anchorage west of Cayo Buenavista was a grassy bottom in 10 - 12 feet -- the Danforth worked better than the CQR. Even in late July, there were no bugs day or night. The only things missing were the coral forests. Diving was a long dinghy ride away across open, choppy water. If you intended to continue west inside the reef, there is plenty of water across the Golfo de Guanahacabibes for most boats, following a slightly angled route to Cayos de la Lena and the Yucatan Straits.
We chose to turn back and explore some of the keys we had skipped on the run west. Cayo Rapido Chico and Cayo Rapido Grande were an easy daysail to the east. Rumor had it that cold beer was to be had at Cayo Levisa - guess where Panache pointed her bow!
Next time, we'll zig-zag behind the reef to the remaining discoveries along Cuba's isolated northwest coast. We'll include some general observations about the charts and lights, as well as one cruiser's opinions on planning a voyage to Cuba.
