Author name: ozweaver

Before we started sailing long distances, someone (who shall not be named) gave me the book An Embarrassment of Mangos, in preparation for the tropical destinations Bob and I were planning to visit. It’s a well-known book among cruisers.

While we have found a lot of mangos here in Cuba, what I find even more in abundance is generosity. Starting with our driver Noel, in Santiago de Cuba, I began to notice that getting supplies is almost impossible in this country, and people have to rely on serendipity. They give generously of what they have and sometimes they get just what they need in return. Mostly though, they have to be exceedingly industrious to make or fabricate what they need out of the random things that come their way—like those fishermen we encountered in the inner-tube boat with rag bag sail. Still, they have a generosity of spirit that compels them to share what they have no matter what comes back to them. It’s quite astonishing.

So we had a very gentle sail to Cayo Levisa today, which might be our last stop before arriving in Havana. I don’t know how long we’ll be in Cayo Levisa because we chose this spot to wait out a cold front that should arrive at any moment. Cold fronts always have strong, northerly winds, and since we are on the north coast of Cuba that can mean some pretty rough conditions.   Where we are tucked in, we have reefs and some little cayos for protection, and we are a ways out from the mainland, which would be a dangerous lee shore in northerly winds. A ‘lee shore’ means that the winds are blowing you toward land, never a good thing in strong winds. After just hearing Bob’s conversation with our weather router, the venerable Chris Parker, it looks like we may here for a full week! Sheesh! Chris is calling this the never-ending winter because cold fronts, which should be done in March, are still making a weekly appearance. I wonder what is going on in the northern US, where most of these fronts originate.

About midday during our sail, I was startled to see a little brown bird fly right into our cockpit and right down the companionway into our cabin! Bob went down below to check on him and get him outside again. Bob opened a hatch and the little bird flew right out again. I think Bob has had a bird onboard during every long passage he has taken over the past few years….but we were not offshore today! We were only a mile or so from land! Little bird didn’t fly away but landed on our foredeck. He did not appear tired or injured; he did not appear the least bit frightened. He marched up and down the decks, looking, as all birds do, a bit like some kind of military officer. All he needed were some gold stars on his shoulders to complete the look. He perched on some of the lines, and as Bob was constantly tweaking at our sails, which meant some of the lines started moving, he would calmly just hop to a different line.

We don’t know what kind of bird he is. He was bigger than a sparrow, but smaller than a robin, with a black, finch-type beak. He had a dull golden/olive breast and was blotchy brown over the rest of his body, similar to a cowbird’s coloring. I think he was about 6” tall.

He checked out the entire boat, coming back into the cockpit with us for a while, even flying down below again. Bob had to go down and open a hatch for him again. In spite of the fact that Bob was in close quarters with him down below as well as being the giant who originated all the noise of the electric winches moving lines and sails, the little bird was not the least bit intimidated by being close to Bob. Bob put out some crumbs of my somewhat stale homemade whole wheat/rye bread. He seemed to enjoy that! Bob also put out a small plate with a puddle of water on it, and although the bird perched on the plate a couple of times, he did not actually drink any water. He spent a lot of time preening, and I could only imagine that he didn’t like feeling salty anymore than we do! He spent about two hours with us, and he was very curious about us and about the whole boat. He spent some time in the dinghy investigating my window box full of herbs and the pink geranium. At one point he was perched right beside me looking at my legs quite intently. I really thought he was going to hop on my legs, and I was willing myself not to flinch or shriek if he should do it. He looked me in the eye for a moment and then hopped elsewhere. I swear he could tell I was fearful!

Most of the time when a bird takes refuge on our boat it is exhausted and more often than not these birds die onboard. It is very sad. We always think they have gotten lost from their migrating flock and become too exhausted to finish the trip. It was wonderful to have a curious, healthy bird on board. When he’d had enough of a visit he took off.

The other highlight of today is the focus of my thoughts –our encounter with the generous Cubans on Cayo Levisa. The Guarda Frontera does not have an office on this island, so when a cruising boat comes in, the dive boat captain goes to the mainland to pick up an officer of the Guarda Frontera. When they return you are expected to take your dinghy ashore to pick up the GF officer to bring him onboard your boat for the paperwork and inspection.

When we saw the dive boat arrive with the officer Bob headed to shore. As Bob picked up the officer, the dive boat captain handed Bob a big papaya! After doing the paper work with the officer, Bob returned him to shore with the daily dispatch of bars of soap, one for the officer and one to thank the captain for the papaya. Well! The dive boat captain had more gifts for us — an abundance of wonderful vegetables! Two small heads of bok choi, a large head of leafy lettuce, and some interesting long beans that look similar to green beans or pole beans! It was such a generous gift!

Like the woman in Marea del Portillo, who gave us all her eggs (13!) and 8 tomatoes and even all her coffee, this man gave freely of what he had that he thought we might want. It wasn’t exactly what we would have bought if we’d had access to a store. But this is a culture where there is not access to stores and he knew it was very likely we were in need of fresh green veggies not easily found.   Both these people gave freely of what they had without knowing if we could give them anything in return, much less anything that would be useful to them. The woman in Marea del Portillo asked for clothes and shoes, and I have a feeling she would have preferred childrens’ sizes of these items, while I could only give her adult clothing and shoes. Still, she had generously offered up what she had, hoping she’d get something useful in return.

That’s just what the captain did. After giving us the wealth of his fresh food, he asked Bob if we had an extra screwdriver. Bob said he’d check in his tool box. Mostly, we do not have extras of any tools, so we are disappointed that we do not have a screwdriver for him. Although it is our natural reaction to hand him our only screwdriver, it would be a potentially dangerous situation for Bob to make such a long passage home without a full tool box. Bob has found that he has an extra vice grip wrench (bought in Florida when he couldn’t find the one he already had), and we certainly hope that the captain will be happy to get one.

Dinner last night was memorable, but I’m not sure if was truly the taste or the immense gratitude of having fresh ingredients. I sautéed a little bacon and then used the bacon fat to sauté some small local onions that look like cipollini to me, green beans, a head of bok choi, and plenty of garlic right at the end. Then I added a health splash of balsamic vinegar and let it reduce to a syrup. I stirred in bow tie pasta with a little of the starchy cooking water. We grated lots of parmesan on top and it was very a memorable dinner. Thank you, Captain!

It’s still a bit mind boggling to me that you can’t just go to the nearest big town and find a hardware store or even a market. A major aspect of life here is giving what you can and seeing what comes back to you. In our experience, the Cubans do this very well.

Today I cast off the last stitches on the Finnish Sweater with the asymmetrical cables, and racing down the last sleeve, the bind off came as a shock to me. I had no idea I was that close to done. I must’ve been knitting with blinders on.

I haven’t been doing so well the past week. Every time we’ve sailed I’ve been seasick, violently and gently. Gently is better, but let me tell you it’s still NO fun. Days are so long and mind-numbingly boring when I am seasick. I cannot knit or read, and although this seems odd, it feels better to have my eyes closed rather than open and looking at a horizon. So, for almost a week I spent most of each day looking at the images on the inside of my eyeballs. Really, really boring.

The night before last we had to make an overnight passage to get the to the western tip of Cuba, Cabo de San Antonio. We arrived there in the mid-afternoon yesterday, to find the dock where the Guarda Fontera expects everyone to tie up for signing papers, to be too rough for our tired and bedraggled souls and too risky for Pandora’s nice paint job. The dock is a big cement pier jutting straight out into the unprotected waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and choppy waves were crashing against this dock. Anchoring is dicey in this area because it is all rock–bad holding. But anchor we did, and Bob took the dinghy ashore in the rough chop. He did not want the Guarda Frontera coming to us in their typical scruffy skiffs, possibly banging into Pandora in the chop. Of course, they wanted me to come in, and they wanted to come out and see the boat. In Bob’s firmest voice, and with what Vulcan-mind-probe abilities he could muster, he said that I had to stay onboard to make sure we didn’t drag in the bad anchorage (real reason being that I had been seasick for more hours than either of us could count and was in no shape to take a rough ride in the dinghy) and that he’d rather not have them visit in such choppy conditions. They acquiesced.

My mood has been deteriorating for about a week. Most likely due to not feeling well every time we pull up the anchor, and frankly, not even feeling all that well at anchor. Yesterday I decided to try to knit, and it wasn’t going well as I could feel myself getting queasier and queasier. Those of you who knit will understand that I was just trying to get to a good stopping place. I have been redesigning a few things about this sweater to suit me, and the sleeves have the most changes. I was in the cabled area of the first sleeve and just wanted to make it to a place where I’d be able to pick it up and easily know where I’d left off.

Suddenly I’d had enough. Not only was I not at my best, I was pretty clearly very near to being at my worst. I had a meltdown of epic proportions, and the almost sleepless night of our passage added to days and days of mal de mer really sent me off the deep end. I felt volcanic, cyclonic, tectonic. I flung the sweater away from me, and that didn’t feel nearly violent enough for my mood, so I flung it around a bit more. I flung it at every hard surface I could find. I knew I’d done a fair bit of damage to the knitting, including breaking one of the various circular needles in use. I had a mad moment when I wanted to chuck the whole thing overboard. Luckily, it was remembering that some of my favorite stitch holders were in that sweater that kept me from deep-sixing the thing.

And now, just 24 hours later the whole sweater is finished. I really don’t know how it happened. Yesterday, in my fit, I was thinking that the whole thing was a miserable experience and that it would never be finished. And yet, this morning, I made repairs to the damaged knitting that came apart during its beating, and Bob repaired the broken needle, and suddenly that first sleeve was done. We had not even raised anchor by that point.

The sailing today was as easy as it ever gets. Instead of being buffeted about, Pandora sliced through the small waves like she was on a track. She also didn’t wallow side to side. She just made a bee-line for our destination, about 5 hours of sailing. I knit the whole time, and voila! Second sleeve finished. This sweater has no sewing or assembly. When you cast off that second sleeve you are ready to wear it. I have to say I really like it, although that’s really no surprise since I’ve been trying it on through the whole process. Sadly, I will always think of my crazy outburst when I wear it. Hopefully that will become funnier with time.

Yesterday, at Cabo de San Antonio, the marina manager was disappointed to learn that Bob and I did not intend to tie up at the exposed dock. He was hoping for our business and looking forward to having us visit the attached restaurant. That’s the thing we keep finding here in Cuba. There are some facilities where a lot of thought and planning and care has been taken to make something that will attract cruisers, but the big thing, the fact that the harbor is not protected enough to actually stay there, is something beyond their ability to tackle. Everything is owned by the government, and there is no money for building a sea wall or even improving the dock. It is rather sad.

We motored a couple of miles to a safe anchorage, and shortly afterward we were approached by the skiff from a larger fishing boat, likely government owned and manned by numerous fisherman. Did you know that Cuba owns all the fish in the waters and that the fisherman must deliver all their catch to Mother Cuba in exchange for their salary? From what we’ve seen, I doubt there is any morehard-working group in Cuba than fisherman. That saying about ‘the workers pretend to work, and the government pretends to pay’ does not apply to fishermen. These guys deserve much, much more from Mother Cuba.

So, even though all the fish belong to the Cuban government, it’s very common for fishermen to approach sailors and offer to sell or trade something with us for lobster or fish. Yesterday evening, two of the fishermen rowed over to us, offering us four large lobster tails for $5CUC. That’s an amazing price…but that’s what they asked for. When Bob paid them, they began to ask for something else that he couldn’t quite understand. Then one of the fishermen pulled off his baseball cap and showed Bob a playing card, the Queen of Hearts. They wanted a deck of cards! No problem. I sent them our newest deck, still in it’s blue and white Hoyle box. I had used them a few times, and I knew that some of the cards had stuck together from humidity. At some point, when I pulled them apart, some of the cards got abrasions from being separated. But still, that was our best deck. When Bob handed over the box, both men clapped their hands and whooped! I was down below laughing at how happy they sounded to get this deck of cards.

Later the man with the Queen of Hearts in his cap came back with the deck and returned it. He could not explain why, but I’m certain it was because some of the cards were marked. I imagined how much he was looking forward to a game of cards with his cohorts, likely involving betting. Marked cards just would not do. So I gave him an older deck that didn’t even have a box, and were the small bridge size cards that I imagine Cuban men might find too ‘sissy.’ There were probably small marks on these cards too since they are not new…but I hope they found them usable!

These small interactions illustrate how enlightening it is for me to see how simply these people live, and to experience how friendly they are. When they approach our sailboat they are very cautious. They never let their rowboats touch Pandora. They seem happy to make contact with us, beyond just selling us fish, and they seem to enjoy our clumsy attempts at Spanish. We have stopped in some pretty remote places along this trip, and quite a few times we’ve been the only boat in the area. I don’t think meeting cruisers is a daily event for these fishermen.

Today when we anchored at the outskirts of a long maze of mangrove estuaries, another government fishing boat arrived and anchored nearby. Bob and I took off in the dinghy to explore the mangroves, which were delightfully full of herons, ibis and frigate birds. We chased a group of spoonbills, photographing them each time they landed and each time they took flight as we followed them down the winding maze of water and mangroves.

When we came out of the estuaries and were headed back to Pandora, one of the fishermen was waving madly to us from the bow of his boat and motioning for us to come to them. I thought it prudent that Bob go by himself, since—rightly or wrongly– I have a strong sense that I was not the proper company for a group of Cuban fishermen. It seemed like a ‘guy’ gathering. Bob went to visit and they were very excited to meet him. They invited him onboard and showed him around their very basic boat. Bob described it as looking like someone made a frame of bent rebar and then slapped on some cement by hand. One man showed Bob the shaved ice that the catch was layered in and a giant fish that they’d caught today. They did not try to sell Bob any of the fish, and they did not ask for anything. Their living conditions were very rough, but they seemed happy and were very friendly.

While I can’t imagine the life they must lead, I can also see that they probably have a good life that is rich in things I’m not even aware of. I wonder how much this will change, and how quickly when (if?) trade with the US starts up again. I keep referring to this because I cannot get it out of mind. On the one hand, it makes me sad how much the past two (at least) generations of Cubans have suffered and sacrificed. On the other hand, those who have lived well on so little might not be ready or willing for the culture shock that could be headed their way.

In Cheryl Barr’s guidebook, we read that the peninsula going out to Cabo de San Antonio does not even have paved roads. We read that we should keep a watch for a bi-plane that flies over about once a week to drop mail in a local field. There are no stores other than one shelf at the marina that mostly holds bottles of rum. Bob did buy one of those before leaving.

Yesterday afternoon we were shocked to learn that one of the Russian men was stabbed by a stingray while swimming off one the beaches. The stingray pierced completely through his upper arm. I don’t know if the ‘blade’ remained lodged in his arm or came out when the ray swam away. I don’t even know what the stingray’s weapon is called. It was a crisis here, trying to find a way to get this man to a bigger hospital on the mainland.

There is a clinic here where the doctor decided the Russian needed more medical help than he could provide here. Because there had been some mechanical issues with a charter flight yesterday, there were more people than seats available on the one plane that was leaving the island. At first the Russians were told that their friend could not go on that plane, but luckily a spot was found for him. You simple cannot leave behind a person with such a terrible wound and poison running through his body! The flight was to Cienfuegos, but the man needs to get to a hospital in Havana. There was no guarantee that he’d get a flight to Havana.

The remaining Russians were back on the dock yesterday, very subdued and waiting for news of their friend. After talking to them a bit I said that I ‘hoped’ their friend would be okay soon. One of the men who does not know English seemed to startle at that word. The Russian who was talking to me translated for him, and he turned to look at me intensely and repeated ‘hope’ a couple of times while still looking at me. I said it back to him again. Hope.

In ancient Greek ‘hope’ is ἐλπίς ….elpis.  Only in hindsight did I wonder if he might have recognized that word–if I’d thought to say it.

This morning when I got up the Russian boat was gone, so I’m hoping that means they got news of their friend being flown to Havana and are now heading there themselves.

Yesterday (April 6), on the dock in Cayo Largo, these flags were flying from boats: New Zealand, Britain, France, Russia, Switzerland, Luxembourg (no kidding!), and the US. Those who had recently moved off the dock to anchor out flew flags from Norway and Sweden. It’s a veritable United Nations of sailors!

Since there aren’t two boats from any one country (except the Scandinavian countries) this feels like a true melting pot, and the eagerness we all feel to get to know each other gives this place a special friendliness. It’s just amazing. People have had boat issues, engine troubles, or even just a longing for cheese, and everyone wants to help. I can’t speak for the more pressing issues (though I know Bob has ferreted around in the workshop looking for items for others), but I’m happy to report that on Pandora we’ve been particularly helpful in assuaging the longing for cheese. We still have some cheddars from the US, good brie from France, and a wonderful Bella Vitano from Italy.

The head of this marina is named Pier, and he has worked here for over 30 years. He’s got lots of stories to tell, and I wonder if he fully knows what stories are told about him! After hearing recommendations to come here from anyone who has already visited, we then heard that “we must meet Pier.” He just returned from vacation yesterday morning, and made a bee-line to Pandora when he saw our big US ensign flying from the stern. He invited Bob to visit him in his office where he could show Bob the US flag he has displayed on his desk. He used to keep it hidden in his desk, but has recently taken to displaying it.

He also has a photo with Fidel taken decades ago. Pier certainly looks younger, but it’s hard to imagine Fidel getting any older than he is in this photo! Certainly there are no photographs showing a more current Fidel.

Late in the afternoon afternoon we met the Russians, six men who have chartered a catamaran for their yearly vacation together. Everyone brought out their flags for the photo op. It turns out there are rotary clubs in Russia, and Olag Karpeev (the captain on this charter) is president of the International Yachting Fellowship of Rotarians.

Tonight as I write this, they are having some adult beverages (Vodka perhaps) while listening to old American pop music. The BeeGees, I kid you not!

Oh! And I’ve found the perfect souvenir to bring home….a Cuban kitten! Man, the kittens here are adorable! There are a group of cats that hang out near the marina restaurant that remind me of the ¼ ocelot that a friend of mine used to have. Very sleek cats! I wonder if these are the same kind.

She likes Bob a lot.  Maybe she’ll follow us onboard before we leave…

And then there is this tiny new black kitten that would be just perfect for my daughter in law, though I’m certain that Rob thinks they already have too many cats. It’s all a pipe dream anyway, since there is no way I could get these kitties into the US. Too bad for me…

Yesterday we said goodbye to the two charming British men of a certain age, who are sailing an Island Packet 50’ out of Southampton. The owner, Jeremy, has been around the world in this boat, and often in the company of his childhood friend, Richard. Neither one of these men’s wives like to sail, so they often sail the long distances together. Jeremy’s wife may join him later in the spring along the ICW in the US, and perhaps I’ll meet her when they pass through Long Island Sound. Jeremy has invited Bob and me to visit them near Sissinghurst Castle, and when I mentioned I that I been there once with my good friend Lesley, Jeremy replied that I must have seen his large Georgian house ‘right next door.’ Wow…

Also the Swiss couple left yesterday afternoon. When they arrived we could not believe it was the couple who had been the first to look at old Pandora when we put her up for sale last spring. In the end they bought a different Saga, Discovery, owned by a friend of ours. We can’t wait to tell Carl that we saw his Discovery in Cuba. It’s amazing how small the world really is.

This week Lars, on Luna, also has two childhood friends visiting from Norway. We spent an evening together hearing about the two friends’ wives and children, as well as stories from the three men’s childhood together near Oslo. Even their parents are all still friends.

Yesterday evening we invited the young New Zealanders, Garth and Monique from Heatbeat, onboard for drinks. They got married just before leaving for their long voyage, three years ago. They arrived here yesterday afternoon, after a long non-stop sail from Honduras. Garth is 32, and Monique just turned 30 last month. They are the same ages our two sons, so how could I not feel maternal toward this adorable couple? Monique saw me knitting today and told me she has some crochet projects on Hearbeat, and some rope that she’d like to use to crochet containers to sit on their shelves for additional organization. Great idea!

Monique and Garth onboard Pandora last night.

There is a prodigious variety of sea life and island life here along with all the visiting foreign boats. Some of the little cayos nearby are inhabited by iguanos. I found this out quite by surprise when I looked up from gathering shells and found a herd of them in all sizes  coming toward me.  This was the big male.

There is live coral flourishing all the way to the beaches on these little islands. There are large and small conchs all over the beaches and shallow waters, and they are alive, along with the puffy red sea stars. You don’t find that in the Bahamas anymore.

Bob took this wonderful photo of a sea star, and I think I want to use it as one of my small format tapestries for the future.

Right in the marina, if you look into the water around the boats, or up where there bar is on shore, we can see giant tarpin with ramoras swimming nearby. Everywhere there are angel fish, sargeant majors, blue tangs and powder blue tangs, parrot fish. It’s very colorful. The water is so clean and clear. I wonder if all that will change, and how quickly, when American sailors start arriving by en masse in another few years.

The beautiful marina at Cayo Largo.  No wonder Pier is proud of his work.

And Pandora on the dock (she’s the one with the dark green hull) viewed from the bar.

Everyone has listened to me whine about not having talked to my kids in over a month now. Both the Brits and the Kiwis have offered for me to use their satellite phones to call the boys, as long as I can keep it to under 3 minutes! I’m certain I cannot do it. I can imagine myself saying “Hi, it’s Mom….start talking and just GO until you hear me hang up!”  I’m not sure I could be counted on to hang up in the allotted time.

So, although I am still very homesick, it’s incredibly interesting here in Cayo Largo. Bob wants Pier to come to the US this summer and give some talks to various sailing groups. I hope he can make it happen.  And Lars might come up our way….and the Brit, Jeremy…and who knows, maybe even Garth and Monique (the New Zealanders) will get blown off course from their intended voyage to Bermuda and on to Europe and find themselves up the Connecticut River.   Summer could be very interesting…