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
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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...
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