Stage One: Baracoa to Guantanamo, 156 K, June 28th, 2006
Waking up in Baracoa on the morning of the 27th, I decided to wait until the 28th to start the ride across Cuba. After leaving Ciego de Avila on the 26th and piling into a hatchback with 2 other people and 2 bikes and traveling over 13 hours, it didn't seem to be the best idea to start the journey without some decent rest. Truth be told, the ride down La Farola (a viaduct that climbs 550 feet to Alto de Cotilla before dropping you down toward the Caribbean coast) and into Baracoa seemed much too daunting to take on without a trial run first. The day of the 27th was spent ensuring my wheels and brakes were good and secure, eating well and hydrating, enjoying the beach and of course, taking on the first climb up La Farola. Being on the edge of Cuba is kind of eiry and fantastic. The mountains and ocean make it magical and given that Baracoa is a small town, there is a very charming and welcoming quality to the place. It's quite separate from the rest of Cuba, you have to get over La Farola to get to the main highway connecting Baracoa to Guantanamo.
Waking up the morning of the 28th and eating a decent yet conservative breakfast - the first climb comes 11 K into the ride - I was both nervous and excited. The trial climb the day before was attempted at 12:30pm, yup, under the hot Cuban sun. Leaving the casa particular (bed and breakfast) my fellow cyclist for this leg, Richard, and I tried quickly to get out of the 'rush hour' traffic and then slowed down as to warm up for the ride to the first climb. He remarked that I took off quickly as we left the casa, and I had to explain that it being rush hour, I must have thought I was going to work or something. Easing up to the first climb we looked at one another, gave eachother a thumbs up and "good luck" wishes and started to climb. Lucky for me Richard and his buddy Antonio offered to escort me on this first leg of the trip. You see, the Masters Club cyclists in Ciego de Avila didn't want me taking on La Farola alone. Besides in Cuba they are quite regionalistic and tend to think that Eastern Cuba (Oriente) is bad news. This meant that I got to do the first stage without the panniers.
Heading up La Farola was definitely a challenge but very doable. In total we counted about 6 or 7 hard climbs with only 2 of them being serious 'hold onto your handlebars, stand up and don't stop pushing' climbs. Throughout the climb to Alto de Cotilla there are also moments of smooth sailing and some nice decents. There are many natural water springs and run-offs to cool you down and offer a bit of rest as you make your way up. Being in the middle of no where you ride past many fruit vendors, stray cattle and even construction workers who are curious to know what the heck you are doing riding up a mountain at the end of June. Once you reach Alto de Cotilla (at 32K), double check your brakes and wheels and get ready to fly! Because of the constant twists and turns my max speed that day was only 69.7 K/hr, Richard reached 82.2. At one point we had to stop at the side of the road to let our wheels cool off from all the braking and releasing. But what FUN!!!
Notice that at this point I have yet to mention food. First off I find I eat less in Cuba because the food is so nutrient rich that I require less. But secondly, neither Richard or I were carrying Cuban pesos. We had counted on Antonio meeting up with us much sooner than he did and we had no money to buy fruit. My $10 CUC (Convertible pesos) equalled 250 Cuban pesos and there was NO way we were going to eat that much fruit. It wasn't until the town of Imias (65K) that I was able to change the CUC's by purchasing water at a "Tienda de Divisas". Being a smooth talking Cuban, Richard had convinced a young lady to give us some mangoes so that we could fuel up while we drank our very cold and cheap water and looked out for Antonio.
Past the town of San Antonio del Sur (86K) Antonio finally showed. He had been partying the night before and slept in. He was going to go ahead to Guantanamo to find me a casa particular and rest up for his and Richard's drive back to Ciego de Avila. Leaving San Antonio I felt like I was in the dessert, with the irony that on the other side of the hills was the ocean. The heat was pressing and the need to stop and take in some shade grew as the kilometres flew by. Just when you start to feel the wind pick up and think you're in for a harder ride, you turn south and suddenly you're face to face with the beautiful Caribbean Sea. You ride along the ocean for about 15 to 20 K, and even when you lose site of it, it's still only metres away. It was some point here that I thought it ridiculous to be SO CLOSE to the ocean and not go for a swim. After some off-roading with the road bikes we found a typical tourist eatery (at 112K, El Guanal with thatched roof and all) that led to the beach. More off roading and bare feet across gravel and some broken glass, we carried our bikes down to the ocean, perched them up on a tree branch and jumped into the Caribbean Sea. Always thinking of the time and Antonio's whereabouts, we let ourselves swim for less than half an hour. We also met up with 3 other cyclists (on mountain bikes) who were doing different cross Cuba routes. These folks were seeing Cuba the hardway because they were traveling West to East, against the wind. We wished them luck on their climb with much gear and heavier bikes up La Farola, bought some more water (and COKE!!) and continued to Guantanamo.
These last 50 or so kilometres got tricky. First off, the heat, it was ridiculous. Second, the absence of real food, BAD PLANNING!! Third, heat and no food meant I was starting to bonk. Lastly, the rolling hills. I don't know where they came from, and there really were only about 3 or 4, but they seemed to go on forever. Ah yes, we also only had about half a bottle of water between the 2 of us in the last 30 K. Because many of the homes we cycled by didn't have electricity, Richard was weary of the water. We waited until we got to some kind of an agricultural centre until we filled our bottles. During the last 20 K I was in serious bonk land. Richard just rode next to me the whole time and tried to get me to focus on pedaling and breathing. I got semi-scared for a bit and then suddenly realized we were RIGHT on the edge of town. It was also at this moment that Richard remembered he still had 2 mangoes in his back pockets. If I wasn't so out of it I could have seen them with my own eyes, but whatever, I was grateful. As we hit Guantanamo I was feeling very weak and also trying to steer my bike with one hand and eat mango with the other. We pulled into the bus stop where Antonio was supposed to meet us, Richard found me a bench and went off to find some guarapo (sugar cane juice) and any baked good, pizza or ham sandwich he could find. Partially in shock and very grateful to have made it, I took the cookies he brought back, drank them down with guarapo and starred into space. That stare must have been serious because it warranted a picture.
After eating and recovering, the endorphins started to kick in and I swear, if it hadn't been almost 4pm I would have let Richard convince me to ride 89 K to Santiago that same day. But enough is enough, I needed to rest and the boys needed to get back home. We headed to one of three casas particulars in all of Guantanamo, had some superb coffee, freshened up and piled Richard's bike back in the car. As he and Antonio rode off, I patted myself on the back for having started the journey I so wanted to do, and set out to find some food. Instead of wandering around aimlessy, I walked up to a bici-taxi and asked the kid where I could eat. He himself was wrestling 5 mayo and bread sandwiches and quickly handed one to me. I tried to decline the offer but he wouldn't have any of that. He ate and pedaled. It wasn't until we go to the third place that I was able to hop out and thank my young driver for getting me some good (and cheap: 40 cuban pesos, less than $2USD) food. Eating quickly I was already thinking about food for the next day. Walking out of the restaurant there was a vendor selling ham and cucumber sandwiches; I bought 2 for 10 pesos (50 cents USD) and wandered back to the casa all the while hearing comments from passersby that I must be hungry to be carrying 2 sandwiches. Back in the room with no fridge I put the sandwiches in a ziplock and put them next to the AC. After writing my bike computer info, I settled into bed and zonked out.
Stage 2: Guantanamo to Santiago, 89 K, coming soon.
Waking up in Baracoa on the morning of the 27th, I decided to wait until the 28th to start the ride across Cuba. After leaving Ciego de Avila on the 26th and piling into a hatchback with 2 other people and 2 bikes and traveling over 13 hours, it didn't seem to be the best idea to start the journey without some decent rest. Truth be told, the ride down La Farola (a viaduct that climbs 550 feet to Alto de Cotilla before dropping you down toward the Caribbean coast) and into Baracoa seemed much too daunting to take on without a trial run first. The day of the 27th was spent ensuring my wheels and brakes were good and secure, eating well and hydrating, enjoying the beach and of course, taking on the first climb up La Farola. Being on the edge of Cuba is kind of eiry and fantastic. The mountains and ocean make it magical and given that Baracoa is a small town, there is a very charming and welcoming quality to the place. It's quite separate from the rest of Cuba, you have to get over La Farola to get to the main highway connecting Baracoa to Guantanamo.
Waking up the morning of the 28th and eating a decent yet conservative breakfast - the first climb comes 11 K into the ride - I was both nervous and excited. The trial climb the day before was attempted at 12:30pm, yup, under the hot Cuban sun. Leaving the casa particular (bed and breakfast) my fellow cyclist for this leg, Richard, and I tried quickly to get out of the 'rush hour' traffic and then slowed down as to warm up for the ride to the first climb. He remarked that I took off quickly as we left the casa, and I had to explain that it being rush hour, I must have thought I was going to work or something. Easing up to the first climb we looked at one another, gave eachother a thumbs up and "good luck" wishes and started to climb. Lucky for me Richard and his buddy Antonio offered to escort me on this first leg of the trip. You see, the Masters Club cyclists in Ciego de Avila didn't want me taking on La Farola alone. Besides in Cuba they are quite regionalistic and tend to think that Eastern Cuba (Oriente) is bad news. This meant that I got to do the first stage without the panniers.
Heading up La Farola was definitely a challenge but very doable. In total we counted about 6 or 7 hard climbs with only 2 of them being serious 'hold onto your handlebars, stand up and don't stop pushing' climbs. Throughout the climb to Alto de Cotilla there are also moments of smooth sailing and some nice decents. There are many natural water springs and run-offs to cool you down and offer a bit of rest as you make your way up. Being in the middle of no where you ride past many fruit vendors, stray cattle and even construction workers who are curious to know what the heck you are doing riding up a mountain at the end of June. Once you reach Alto de Cotilla (at 32K), double check your brakes and wheels and get ready to fly! Because of the constant twists and turns my max speed that day was only 69.7 K/hr, Richard reached 82.2. At one point we had to stop at the side of the road to let our wheels cool off from all the braking and releasing. But what FUN!!!
Notice that at this point I have yet to mention food. First off I find I eat less in Cuba because the food is so nutrient rich that I require less. But secondly, neither Richard or I were carrying Cuban pesos. We had counted on Antonio meeting up with us much sooner than he did and we had no money to buy fruit. My $10 CUC (Convertible pesos) equalled 250 Cuban pesos and there was NO way we were going to eat that much fruit. It wasn't until the town of Imias (65K) that I was able to change the CUC's by purchasing water at a "Tienda de Divisas". Being a smooth talking Cuban, Richard had convinced a young lady to give us some mangoes so that we could fuel up while we drank our very cold and cheap water and looked out for Antonio.
Past the town of San Antonio del Sur (86K) Antonio finally showed. He had been partying the night before and slept in. He was going to go ahead to Guantanamo to find me a casa particular and rest up for his and Richard's drive back to Ciego de Avila. Leaving San Antonio I felt like I was in the dessert, with the irony that on the other side of the hills was the ocean. The heat was pressing and the need to stop and take in some shade grew as the kilometres flew by. Just when you start to feel the wind pick up and think you're in for a harder ride, you turn south and suddenly you're face to face with the beautiful Caribbean Sea. You ride along the ocean for about 15 to 20 K, and even when you lose site of it, it's still only metres away. It was some point here that I thought it ridiculous to be SO CLOSE to the ocean and not go for a swim. After some off-roading with the road bikes we found a typical tourist eatery (at 112K, El Guanal with thatched roof and all) that led to the beach. More off roading and bare feet across gravel and some broken glass, we carried our bikes down to the ocean, perched them up on a tree branch and jumped into the Caribbean Sea. Always thinking of the time and Antonio's whereabouts, we let ourselves swim for less than half an hour. We also met up with 3 other cyclists (on mountain bikes) who were doing different cross Cuba routes. These folks were seeing Cuba the hardway because they were traveling West to East, against the wind. We wished them luck on their climb with much gear and heavier bikes up La Farola, bought some more water (and COKE!!) and continued to Guantanamo.
These last 50 or so kilometres got tricky. First off, the heat, it was ridiculous. Second, the absence of real food, BAD PLANNING!! Third, heat and no food meant I was starting to bonk. Lastly, the rolling hills. I don't know where they came from, and there really were only about 3 or 4, but they seemed to go on forever. Ah yes, we also only had about half a bottle of water between the 2 of us in the last 30 K. Because many of the homes we cycled by didn't have electricity, Richard was weary of the water. We waited until we got to some kind of an agricultural centre until we filled our bottles. During the last 20 K I was in serious bonk land. Richard just rode next to me the whole time and tried to get me to focus on pedaling and breathing. I got semi-scared for a bit and then suddenly realized we were RIGHT on the edge of town. It was also at this moment that Richard remembered he still had 2 mangoes in his back pockets. If I wasn't so out of it I could have seen them with my own eyes, but whatever, I was grateful. As we hit Guantanamo I was feeling very weak and also trying to steer my bike with one hand and eat mango with the other. We pulled into the bus stop where Antonio was supposed to meet us, Richard found me a bench and went off to find some guarapo (sugar cane juice) and any baked good, pizza or ham sandwich he could find. Partially in shock and very grateful to have made it, I took the cookies he brought back, drank them down with guarapo and starred into space. That stare must have been serious because it warranted a picture.
After eating and recovering, the endorphins started to kick in and I swear, if it hadn't been almost 4pm I would have let Richard convince me to ride 89 K to Santiago that same day. But enough is enough, I needed to rest and the boys needed to get back home. We headed to one of three casas particulars in all of Guantanamo, had some superb coffee, freshened up and piled Richard's bike back in the car. As he and Antonio rode off, I patted myself on the back for having started the journey I so wanted to do, and set out to find some food. Instead of wandering around aimlessy, I walked up to a bici-taxi and asked the kid where I could eat. He himself was wrestling 5 mayo and bread sandwiches and quickly handed one to me. I tried to decline the offer but he wouldn't have any of that. He ate and pedaled. It wasn't until we go to the third place that I was able to hop out and thank my young driver for getting me some good (and cheap: 40 cuban pesos, less than $2USD) food. Eating quickly I was already thinking about food for the next day. Walking out of the restaurant there was a vendor selling ham and cucumber sandwiches; I bought 2 for 10 pesos (50 cents USD) and wandered back to the casa all the while hearing comments from passersby that I must be hungry to be carrying 2 sandwiches. Back in the room with no fridge I put the sandwiches in a ziplock and put them next to the AC. After writing my bike computer info, I settled into bed and zonked out.
Stage 2: Guantanamo to Santiago, 89 K, coming soon.
posted by Cuba Cyclist @ 8:26 PM
1 Comments:
At 12:38 PM ,
village mama said...
Great adventure so far! It's left me so thirsty. After how many marathons? plus and Ironman you'd think you would have learned the importance of hydrations. Though I love mangoes I was wondering, have you ever heard of gels? Hello!!!!! They're easy to trasnport from Canada to Cuba AND ...
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