Getting Ready for the Eastern Cuba Cycling Adventure

After having abandoned my Cycle Across Cuba blog, it seemed appropriate to use this same blog to share stories about various cycles across the great island. Starting August 19, 2007, my husband and I will cycle Eastern Cuba: Santiago, Manzanillo, Bayamo, Holguin, Moa, Baracoa, Guantanamo and back to Santiago to catch the Iron distance race there on September 2nd.

As if I didn't climb enough on the way to El Cobre, the next 20 K or so were absolutely relentless. It was definitely slow and steady until Palma Soriano, there I managed to scarf down 2 mayo and bread sandwiches (hey, they were like 10 cents Canadian!!) and a couple of drink mix juices. A couple of guys hanging out the side of the road stand were all to interested in my bike and what the hell I was doing eating so fast. I chatted for a bit and then told them I had to take off cuz I was still thinking I could get to Bayamo that day. Leaving Alto Soriano, I started to hear that weird noise again...not good!! Another hill and I almost fall off my bike, not becuz I couldn't muscle it up (remember, I have a third chain ring) but because my chain sticks and will not let my pedals push the bike forward. Jumping off the bike and cursing, 2 men come along and offer assistance. Having been bilingual my whole life, I have a knack for always swearing in the opposite language, a good thing cuz the men would NOT have been impressed with my vocabulary that day. They took a look and the bike and said, "You should have this looked at". I almost replied, "Thanks Tips!!", but I smiled and said I had a spare chain if anything. They offered me some rum but I declined, not only because of the sun, but also because I know that country folk in Cuba tend to make their own versions of rum, and well, I wasn't going to chance it.
Just passed this hill I came across my first 'story book' fruit stand. Well actually I didn't get a chance to pass it cuz the fellas working there spotted me first and were calling out the the specials. I went and asked how much a mango would be. The young (cute) guy answered, "I can't sell you one mango". Having spent much time in Cuba I said, "Fine then, just give me one"...I was joking but he wouldn't take my money. We chatted for a long while, I was annoyed with the sun and my chain and wondering if I would indeed get to Las Tunas that day. I promised the fruit stand folk that I would be sure to stop there again in the future and was off. Not 10 K later, another fruit stand. This time I got free bananas...sometimes it pays to be a lone female traveler on bike. After the fruit stands, lots of VERY BADLY patched roads, so bad that you couldn't take advantage of the downhills, but it didn't matter, cuz I had energy. The rest of the ride got quite beautiful. Past the town of Contramaestre, the ride took a very positive down gradient turn. I was able to fly to the last food stand, the bus terminal in Jiguami. There I instantly remembered having stopped there 7 years prior on a bus trip out to Santiago. And there I was, me and my bike, a pork sandwich I was about to devour and yes, more juice crystals to drink. Back on the bike, the last bit into Bayamo, utterly flying and actually being a little recklass, squeezing between trucks and horse drawn carriages, holding a very fast speed, when all of sudden I see a guy commuting on his bike on the left and a truck verging forward on the right. "HOLD STEADY!!" I scream at him in my head, mostly cuz I know that Cubans drive their bikes like they're weaving through pylons. But at this point it's too late, he turns toward me and I have to tuck in really tight hoping my panniers won't side swipe him. I look down quickly and see a rock, manage to out maneuver it with my front tire but feel the bump on my back tire. I shoot the guy a look and continue to sail passed him until I feel the thumping I was hoping I wouldn't hear...a flat. I pull over and turn my bike to find the shoulder across the way. Pulling off the panniers, buddy pedals by and asks, "Can I help?"...my reply "Well seeing as I got a flat so I wouldn't run you over when you veered in front of me...sure!!". I was HOT, no shade and I was in a more transitted part of the highway so the heat coming off the trucks was even worse. Buddy tried to help me actually change the tire, but I was hot and asked him to just hold the bike, or tire, or tube. I commended him on the fact that he was in the mid-day sun with a black T-shirt and pants. He laughed. Then I got him to pose for my first flat, said thanks I was off.
That little break was enough to prove that I could handle riding the next 89K to Las Tunas. I mean I had only ridden 125K and even though there were hills and lots of bad road I still managed to average 24 K/hr. I know this isn't exactly fast, but trust me, the heat, the panniers, the road, the sun...it wasn't bad.
Pulling into the bus stop in Bayamo I had to call Ciego de Avila and let Richard and the gang know I would be arriving in Ciego a day early. Richard answers the phone and asks how the ride went and if I went back to the casa particular where Antonio's friends live. I explain that I want to ride on to Las Tunas. "How do you feel Gerry?" -Good. "Do you think you can do it?" -yes, "Are you at least going to rest?"- I don't know, but I gotta eat something. In the midst of this I get highlights from the Argentina-Germany game...the last time I called Argentina was up 1-0. Richard changed the subject but I didn't even notice. He tells me that he and Edilio are going to be in Camaguey to meet me so that we can all ride into Ciego together. How sweet. The boys sure do love their bikes and love to look after me. I say goodbye and promise I call when I get in to Las Tunas. My last words, "It's only another 89K, it can't take me THAT long". Famous words indeed.

Santiago-Las Tunas, June 30, 214 K.

I started to get the idea in my head that it would't be totally nuts if I rode through Bayamo (the original destination for this day) sometime late the night before. I thought, "I could literally spend most of the day cycling, why not?". I promised myself I would make the actual decision en route because the heat and sun would ultimately decide where I ended up that day. Daisy made me a great breakfast (okay, anytime I get eggs, toast, yogourt and freshly made mango juice, it's a great breakfast), I ate slowly but was eager to get on the road. I hugged her goodbye and told her that I planned to ride again next year, so hopefully we would see eachother in the near future.

Leaving Santiago first thing in the morning feels even busier than Toronto at rush hour downtown; people, cars, motorcycles, bicycles, buses, a VERY busy roundabout to contend with. I even dropped one of my panniers because I hadn't hooked it on properly and had to dodge traffic to retrieve it. At the stop sign in front of the Antonio Maceo monument I asked a guy on his bike how I could get to the highway leading to "La Virgen de la Cobre" Cathedral. Like many times before in Cuba, the young man offered to lead the way past the next set of lights and then a right and quick left. There is no point saying 'No thanks, I can figure it out' as most Cubans are only too happy to help out. Weaving around the side of the road hitchhikers I heard a noise again on the bike: Was in the chain? The derailleur? Maybe the pedals were loose? And suddenly I went to pedal and the whole thing jammed. Uh oh!!! What that heck!????
Okay, okay, relax, it's early just try to let the bike coast and then stop. But when I accidentally went to pedal again, it clicked in perfectly and the noise had stopped. I would give it another 5 K, if not I would turn around and find a mechanic in Santiago. A few big rollers challenged my not yet warmed up self on the way to La Cobre or was it my preoccupation with the bike? Edging toward the cathedral I wondered if I would go back in (we had stopped in on the way to Baracoa) but decided to leave my previous good wished with the saints and continue along to Bayamo. Afterall, if I was going to decide to go straight to Las Tunas, I would need all the extra time possible.

Going past the entrance to La Cobre and wizzing by all the candle, wreath and coconut vendors, there is an eiry yet welcoming feeling. That's the only way I can describe it. I had to shake it off and think about the next town. That's how I ended up crossing all of Cuba. Not thinking of the days' destination but thinking only of the next town I would travel to. In this case it was Palma Soriano, at this point only about 25 K away, but man, I had NO IDEA was those 25 K would be. To be continued...

Stage 2: Guantanamo-Santiago, 89 K, June 29, 2006.

Waking up early this morning I loved the fact that the sun does really rise in the East cuz that meant I could get an early start and be in Santiago well before noon. I also wanted to get out of the casa particular ASAP; the owner didn't impress me much and I didn't want to see her in the morning. I mean, come on, she took offense to me wanting to take my bike, my mode of transport on this journe,y into my room instead of leaving it in the courtyard. She swore it was safe and that she's had lots of other cyclists over the years, but I guess she didn't really get that I was on my own now and only had my bike to get me where I wanted to go.

Leaving Guantanamo part of me wondered if I should try to ride down to the military base. I didn't think much about it, the whole US in Cuba thing makes me sad and I thought it would be too eeiry. I did do a SUPER fast tour of 'downtown' Guantanamo before I headed to the highway. Interestingly enough, there is an 18 K highway that suddenly ends and takes you onto rolling sideroads which are actually the main roadway through Cuba. This first 18 K was PERFECT...it was still cool and I could literally have counted the # of vehicles using it if I had wanted to. I got sidetracked cuz I preferred to count the # of 'near decapitations' by machete. The workers clearing the grass at the side of the highway use machetes and they take such big swings I often worried the blade would fly in the air and chop my helmet off! So I would whistle (not the loud Cuban way, I STILL can't do it!) or say, 'Cuidado!' (Careful!) as I rode by.

Coming off the quiet highway I headed into quiet sideroads full of endless rolling hills and long and steady inclines. There are also lots of fun stretches where you can whiz downhill and enjoy the lush tropical air of coffee country on your face. Luckily for me I was on one of these declines when a VERY persistent and rather angry little dog came after me...and he was going FAST cuz at the point I was traveling about 45K/hr...I had to pedal hard and fast to get away from the little guy...the hard part was that I was going into a sharp turn and the panniers tend to throw off your sense of balance...but I made it, I wasn't going to let the little dog at kilometre 32 get in the way of me getting to Santiago for lunch. Shortly after I took a side of the road break and ate one of the sandwiches I bought the night before. I rested by bike by the steps to the tinyest and perhaps poorest house I have ever seen in Cuba or anywhere for that matter...it reminded me of the houses in Mexico on the way to Chichen Itza. I thought for a second about taking a picture, but decided against it when I heard a mom and her child inside. I got up quickly so I wouldn't disturb them and continued on.

This whole part of the ride was quite a contrast to yesterday's oceanside riding and Richard's neverending jokes and banter. Today was quiet and I spent a lot of time thinking of many things on my 'list of life things to do'. Just when I was needing a pick me up, I spotted a guy selling candy and stopped him. The candy turned out to be mint as opposed to something really fruity, but it was totally worth the stop just to talk to the guy. He had suffered some kind of work accident in Havana so he moved back home and was now selling candy for a peso to earn a living. In Cuba vendors can often make more than an engineer or computer programer. The guy was totally freaked out that I had ridden from Baracoa the day before so when I told him I was crossing Cuba, he didn't want to charge me for the candy...as if! I told him it would be bad luck (I made up some kind of Canadian tradition) if he didn't let me pay for it, I took a picture of him and was on my way.

A little further ahead I stopped for 'refresco' (juice made from crystals) and found out I had less then 45 K to go. I was also really looking for coffee cuz I hadn't had any yet given that I left the casa in Guantanamo in flash. 27 K before Santiago in the town of Alto Songo I was weaving through some traffic when I was hit with the beautiful aroma of freshly brewed espresso. Following my nose and looking for the line-up, I headed to the vendor and bought 3, yes 3, coffees. The men leaning over the counter kept eyeing my bike and telling me to keep an eye on it. I guess the guy didn't notice that my toes were in the back wheel! I was SOOOO happy to be drinking coffee that I almost bought more for one of my water bottles. Almost.

Last stretch into Santiago went by in a blur of narrow roads, BUMPY patches, shade, another stop to refuel (guarapo -sugar cane juice-this time) and then finally the highway leading into Santiago. This last 12 K is the ABSOLUTE MOST FUN ride I have EVER had on my own on a bike in my life. The ONLY snag was some kind of problem with my crank (which I would later find out was really a problem with my chain). I had to stop right at the beginning of the highway to check my pedals and crank arms just to make sure they were secure. But after that, there was 12 perfect kilometres of SMOOTH sailing on an almost constant and steady decline. Even with the panniers playing with the balance of the bike, my speed didn't drop below 35 K/hr on this stretch. It was a BLAST. Then suddenly you start to see the city and the signs. There were 3 exits, I didn't really know which one to get off at so I took the one that said, "Monumento Antonio Maceo" because I knew where the monument was in relation to the rest of the city.

Once in town I had to find "Reparto Santa Barbara" because that is where Antonio and Richard had found me a place to stay. Seeing TONNES and TONNES of motorcycles in the city, I asked the houseowner, Daisy, upon arriving what the deal was. She said it was Santiago's solution to transportation...they were taxies. Having arrived earlier than expected, Daisy quickly went about setting up my room. I drank about 3 litres of water, chatted with her son and when my room was ready, arranged my gear and jumped into the shower. Between the water I drank and the number of showers I took each day in Cuba, I was so thankful that water is free there!!

After showering, I quickly washed my clothes from this ride (and the day before), had a fantastic lunch and headed out to do some exploring in the city. Seeing as this blog is about the cycling, I'll leave my city tales for some other time.

Stage 3 (and 4!) Santiago-Las Tunas, 215 K, coming soon.

Highlights of Stage 2 Guantanamo-Santiago. Details coming soon.

Memorable moments from Stage 1 Baracoa-Guantanamo

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.