A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back

Like born snorkelers

Sam and Alex Fortescue

Tue 19 Apr 2011 13:16

Reinforcements have arrived by air from London, so we're now 5 onboard Summer Song. Two of the extra bodies are really halves - my nephews Timo And Edmund - so the boat doesn't feel too crowded. The authorities here have been very co-operative and haven't raised any difficulties about the crew change. Dom and the boys arrived at 11pm, with Edmund so tired that he barely woke up to crawl out of the taxi. Matters improved somewhat when pizza appeared.

The following day, we set off for the beach, across the bridge on the Varadero peninsular. Weighed down with a picnic and more snorkelling gear than you could shake a stick at, we stumbled out to the main road past the marina to look for a taxi. The trick is to ignore the official ones, and try to flag down a 'taxi particulare', which are generally fine old American cars from the 1950s: Cadillacs, Buicks and Chevrolets with huge long bonnets and boots, wings, baffles, curious headlamps and all the trimmings on the inside. Typically, these will have broken down decades before, and had their engines replaced by a Russian or a Chinese block, built with no concept of fuel efficiency. We were picked up by a dapper chap called Jorge in a beautifully looked after 1955 Chevy, which left the boys wide eyed with wonder - the more so that there were no seat belts in the car. He dropped us a block from the beach.

As the turquoise waters of Varadero appeared round the corner, there were great squeals of excitement from the smaller fry. They dashed into the water with much splashing and bellowing, before returning to the beach for snorkelling kit. The beach is not a very fishy spot, so a hesitatnt start was made with snorkels and masks, but there was much greater success yesterday at the 'Playa Coral' a little way down the coast. Timo and eventually Edmund plucked up the courage to swim out of their depth and were soon motoring about after fish. A kindly local had given us some 'fish food' - bread to you and me - to attract the smaller beasts, who came absolutely thronging around us. They were so frenzied, in fact, that you could touch them as they fed. A little farther out, the water was clear and the bottom dropped off a small limestone ledge, creating a perfect environment for larger reef fish. It was one of the more beautiful Caribbean snorkelling spots we've been to, despite a slightly grockley feel to the place, as tourists were bussed in from hotels. One of the high points of the day was when a friendly local called Andy shimmied up a tall coconut palm in bare feet to pluck a couple of coconuts. He then macheted the top off and presented it to us with a straw to drink the sweet water within.

Varadero, despite being Cuba's answer to Torremolinos in Spain, has a delightfully Cuban feel to it. The locals seem very warm characters, and eager to help. They're particularly keen on children, and spend much time fussing over TP and Edmund. There's impromptu music wherever you go - people with guitars on the beach and in bars. And I wonder if these attributes will be carried through into the 'real' Cuba. We had a glimpse of this yesterday, when we had to hike to the main road to get a bus back from the beach. Trailing through a village in the blinding heat, we found it a sorry sort of a place. A hillside of half built one-room hovels lay empty, but covered in slogans: 'viva la revolucion' and 'viva Fidel y Raul'. Dozens of gigantic hawks circled overhead and we had the feeling that we would stumble upon a clean-picked carcass at any moment.

The boys have been put to useful work on board as bodders (boys on duty), which generally equates to washing up. Last night we dined at the Casa Summer Song, on excellent take-away burgers from a chirpy concession in the car park. A pair of hugely excited nippers volunteered to put in the order and collect the food... in Spanish. Alex gave Timo a thorough briefing, including instructions to cook the burgers well, and wrote it down on a piece of paper as an aide memoire. The boys bounced off happily. After about 30 minutes, we were considering sending out a search party, when an excited hail was received from the pontoon, and they returned with bags of food. It turned out that Edmund had pragmatically snatched the paper from Timo, half way through his oration, and simply handed it over to the burger man. The boys then settled down to a play fight, to the delight of other diners in the car park.

Plans for today are still fluid, but there is pressure for more snorkelling. We may buy tickets for a hop-on, hop-off bus that plies the 15km stretch of Varadero's beach.

Fine whiskers at the veg market