Friday March 19 - Baracoa

Disembarking to start walk

In the morning the cloud was as low as ever; the hill to the west of Baracoa, El Yunque, had its head in the mist. However, it was not raining as we piled into two small trucks that then took us out of Baracoa to the north-west, past the coconut and chocolate factories, to the start of a walk in the forest close to the Rio Duaba. The walk, led by a local guide in high army style boots and long shorts, wound its way upstream and then climbed up through the forest which initially appeared natural, but was clearly managed as in places the undergrowth was cleared, and cocoa and coffee trees were planted beneath the taller coconut palms and other trees. There were plenty of fruits and seeds to taste, orchids to photograph, and even a millipede to play with, so the walk progressed in a leisurely fashion. We had two stops; the first at a farm where the lady cooked us her home-grown coffee on a kerosene stove, whilst the guide pilfered and cut up oranges from her plot. The house water supply arrived in bamboo pipes from higher up the stream. At the second farm we tasted the small sweet bananas that grow in the area.

Eventually we reached the road by the Rio Toa, and climbed back into the trucks to be taken to the Finca Toa for a rather late lunch. Lunch comprised a meat stew, served in sections of bamboo cane, followed by salad and fried plantain, and then coffee (again). After the lunch most of the group took to the water in three rowing boats and enjoyed a leisurely trip up the river past numerous varieties of egrets and herons and a couple of waders paddling on the river weeds near the banks.

Gently boating up the Rio Toa

Saturday March 20 - Baracoa

Not so lucky today! Overnight there was heavy rain, and during the day there was mostly a light drizzle - the sort that sneaks under your umbrella and soaks your trousers. Even worse, the rain had turned parts of the path into a mud-bath. Not only was the red mud very wet, but it was also very sticky, clinging to our boots with admirable tenacity! The walk wound its way down a lane in the forest between low wooden houses thatched with palm leaves. The rain sometimes left off somewhat allowing us to look up. Air plants clung to some of the electricity cables crossing the track, and a few flowering plants lightened the overall damp green background. Mata Bay eventually appeared, behind a fringe of coconut palms. Coconuts floated along the fringes of the calm bay, but at the mouth of the bay waves could be seen crashing against the beach.

Walking to Mata Bay

Soggy climber flowers

The rain had stopped by the time we got to the beach at Caquajo, and it was possible to swim in a narrow strip before the breakers and currents further out were too strong. About five of us had a dip, and were rewarded by hot coffee, coconut milk and grapefruit brought to the beach by a local farmer. After this it was back past Mata Bay and over a rickety bridge to the road and coach. We were back in town ready for a late lunch & time to investigate Baracoa. What we didn't expect was an earthquake - but the town was shaken by a tremor that occurred somewhere between Baracoa and Santiago. The effects weren't felt everywhere - some in the group felt nothing, whilst others saw lights swing and people rushing out of buildings. No damage appeared to have been done, however. Later a few of us headed into town to the Casa de la Trova, where the local band played & were introduced by a small guy with an impressive mullet who managed to identify Paul Newman (Richard) and Harry Potter (Mark) in the audience!

Sunday March 21 - to Santiago de Cuba

Ship entering Santiago Harbour

Another damp and cloudy morning - no wonder it is so green on this part of the island. We were promised better weather over the other side of the mountain, and, after winding our way in the coach over the high pass on La Farola concrete road, the skies began to clear and the heat began to rise. From thick tropical forests with coconut palms and banana trees we entered a rocky coastal landscape with cacti. After a (very) brief and (very) distant view of the US base at Guantanamo Bay we entered the city of Guantanamo, probably the least interesting of the cities we had visited so far - crumbling concrete seemed to be the main theme. The Guantanamo Hotel,  where we had a toilet & coffee stop, fitted this theme in a large & very Soviet way. An hour later we reached the edge of Santiago and drove through the centre, firstly to drop of a punctured tyre at the bus depot, and then to make our way to the Spanish fort, El Castillo, at the entrance to the Santiago Bay. Before a rapid visit to the fort (as time was slipping away...) we had lunch at El Morro. Once again in order to get a reasonable sized lunch, in a country where most local expect the full works, we shared one meal between two. This restaurant went to the extreme by supplying only one small coffee cup between two - and the vegetarian option wasn't too clever either!

Eventually we headed into the city centre where we had a walking tour from Parque Cespedes, with the cathedral on one side opposite the city hall on the other. Also on the square, opposite the 1515 Velázquez house, was the Casa Grande hotel where over half the group thought we were staying.... We walked through the sunny and calm Sunday streets of Santiago, ending up at the Moncada Barracks, attacked unsuccessfully by Fidel Castro and friends on July 26 1953 - a date that appears all over the province (and the rest of Cuba) in street names and political graffiti. Then it was back in the coach to drive out of the centre to the 'luxury' Melia Santiago hotel - ending thoughts of walking into town for the music in the evening. The luxury of the hotel was mostly evident in the rooms (e.g. hair driers that worked, and in my case a CD player & coffee machine+coffee), and was absent in the crowded dining room and queues for the lifts.

Cathedral & Parque Cespedes in Santiago

Monday March 22 - to Camaguey

Wall slogan on barn near Santiago

The queues for the lift hit with a vengeance this morning, with some having to wait 20 minutes to get out of the hotel with their cases - and that was after queuing earlier to get down to breakfast - not a great advert for this hotel. We left Santiago via the Revolution Square, with its gigantic statue of  Antonio Maceo on his angular bronze horse, and headed through the rolling hills of the Sierra Maestra to the village of El Cobre. En route were many examples of the fusion of popular culture and political expressions - a cartoon pirate figure taken from a local theme park had been merged with the 26 July Moncada attack symbol to form a new Santiago identity. This former copper mining town is now a pilgrimage site, with sellers of sunflower wreaths lining the road. The church is dedicated to Cuba's patron saint, and contains the icon of the Virgin fished from the sea in 1606 by three fishermen 'about to be shipwrecked'.  In the church were collections of sporting medals and little metal body parts left by believers to give thanks for some achievement or recovery. All very strange......but it was a sunny site and the hills looked inviting.

Continuing on through the hills we eventually reached the main road from Santiago that led us to Bayamo, where we were dropped off in the centre and straight into the Casa de la Trova for a fruity rum cocktail and yet another chance to hear "Guantanamera". Escaping this we had a short tour of the centre, with its pedestrian main shopping street. This tour included a dip into one of the (few) shops selling goods in the national currency, as opposed to the convertible currency (CUC) linked to the dollar. As we had no need for washing machine parts, shower curtains, or bright green liquid (brake fluid we were informed), we left to catch the coach again, to head for the Soviet-style Sierra Maestra hotel for a snack lunch. After lunch, and another Buccanero (beer), it was hard to stay awake in the coach although we were jolted awake with a coffee stop at Las Tunas. Eventually around 6pm we pulled up at another hotel we weren't expecting to stay at - the Colon in Camaguey. Luckily this was bang in the centre of the town, and had a great atmosphere with tiled floors, high ceilings and a courtyard. The smallish rooms were on the first floor overlooking a long corridor-like central well reminiscent of a prison.... Monday night was clearly not the night in Camaguey, as the centre was pretty dead, although we did get a little canned music in one bar!

Three men in a boat - stained glass window in El Cobre church of the Virgen de la Caridad (or the Santeria goddess of love and water, Oshún)

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