Cuba off the port side, as far as the eye can see...

A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Tue 12 Apr 2011 19:45
21:42.88N
76:11.01W
 
There is a definite pattern to the weather here. Yesterday, as today and two days ago, the wind dies away shortly after dawn. A chaotic pattern of waves takes over, rocking the boat to port and to starboard and sending things crashing about in cupboards, and us in our beds. Tiredness makes this motion infuriating and after a couple of hours, we switch the engine on to restore a sense of progress and reduce the rocking. Then, around lunchtime, sometimes later, a wind starts up from astern which keeps us company through the afternoon and the night until the next morning, when the cycle starts again.
 
We toyed with the idea of stopping at Great Inagua as we passed yesterday. The large island appeared on the horizon as a long string of mangrove fringed islets, and can't have crept more than a few metres above sea level for its entire length. We got onto Mission Control in Dorset for advice on whether and where to stop. The Gaffer got back to us at lightning speed with co-ordinates and details of the port facilities. For a few minutes, we could see ourselves munching on lobster in some charming beachfront resto, before retiring for a full night's deep sleep. But we quickly realised that the key problem would remain the same: summoning up the effort to spend another three nights at sea in order to finally reach Cuba. Thus it was, with slightly heavy hearts, that we continued on our way, leaving the island invisible astern in just a few hours.
 
The inadequacies of the charts continued today when we realised that we'd plotted a course straight through a shallow and treacherous stretch of water on the edge of the Bahamas Bank. Invisible until one zooms in for a really detailed view, the only thing to give the danger away was an isolated depth of 2m, surrounded by water a mile deep. We passed the area safely to starboard a few hours ago, where the only sign was a tiny sandy cay lapped with gentle waves.
 
Night watches have become a little easier now that they last for three hours instead of two, meaning fewer alarms during the night and longer periods of sleep. All the same, it is a far cry from the Atlantic crossing, where we had just one watch per night. Our other long passage a deux - from Lisbon to Porto Santo - was shorter but harder, in its own way. We had to deal with tougher weather, drenching squalls and winds up to 30 knots on the nose. At one point, we found ourselves resorting to full wet weather gear, and the cabin below took on the damp fug of a Channel crossing in autumn. The downwind sail to Cuba is longer, and more exhausting, but made in much kinder conditions. It occurs to me that the return leg of the Atlantic may be more like sailing those 450 miles from Lisbon.
 
We're running down our supplies of fresh food so that we don't get knobbled by the Cuban customs when we arrive. It's a shame in a way, because we won't be able to replace much of the fresh food in the country, so we'll have to feast now to fast later. According to the guides, there is now minimal private enterprise permitted in the tourist sector, so it is possible to find good, cheap local food. However, beef, fish and lobster - though plentiful - remain the monopoly of the state run establishments, where quality and price can be abysmal. Another quirk is that some staple foods, like bread, are provided free by the state to Cubans. Consequently, there is absolutely no market for these products, and they are nigh on impossible to obtain from shops. If you want bread, you have to go to a hotel, or beg it from a Cuban.
 
Much may have changed over the ten years since this was written, so we shall see. I expect things to be a bit more available than that. I'm certain, though, that a fair measure of extraordinary Communism remains in place...