The Cayos
After our overland trip to Havana, we returned to Cienfuegos, where Sea Quill was docked. We quickly re-provisioned, checked out with the authorities, and headed for the Archipelago de los Canarreos, a string of mostly uninhabited coral islands southwest of Cienfuegos, across the Golfo de Cazones. Our first stop was Cayo Largo, on the eastern end. We left early in the afternoon, anticipating a 16-18 hour sail, and we were determined to sail it -- now that our mast foot was fixed. But, perversely, the wind turned against us, and our 16-18 hour passage ended up taking 30.
Towards evening the next day, we finally threaded our way through the reef break of Cayo Largo, motoring west along the beautiful white sand stretch of Playa Sirena into the quiet bay behind the beach. Rounding the turn, we saw Australia 31 sitting at anchor. We headed into the cove. Cayo Largo is Cuba's premier beach resort, with a range of hotels and restaurants, but ours were the only boats anchored in that protected bay.
In spectacularly clear water, we snorkeled the reefs offshore, where the fish were "tame." Unaccustomed to being hunted, they were not the least bit afraid of us. Some species swam with us, even coming up curiously to peer in through our goggles.
In front of Playa Sirena there was a recently wrecked Bavaria yacht, a charter that someone had steered right into the coral, while attempting a night entrance. Although it had sunk only a month before, the wreck had been scavenged clean. There wasn't an instrument, a winch, or a bit of stainless steel left. Vultures could not have done better. The sad, stripped corpse of the boat heaved and creaked with each wave.
We spent a couple of lazy beach days, and some happy hours, with the Australia 31 crew, and then we were all ready to sail on and see some more.
Cayo Rosario, 25 miles west of Cayo Largo, should have been a pleasant day sail away. We left early in the morning, just as a thick squall arrived. The weather hit while we were picking our way out through the reef -- the same one that claimed the Bavaria -- and the visibility instantly dropped to zilch.
Although we could not see, we had the GPS track from our entry a few days before to follow. We took it slowly, keeping right on top of the old line, praying that no one was trying to come in or out alongside us. Once we were off soundings, and certain that we were well beyond the reef, we set our sails and rocketed west towards Cayo Rosario. A little while later, the squall passed, the sky cleared, and we were sailing in the sun.
The squall had made our reef exit a little tricky, but in fact, it was a fun challenge. It was fun, however, only because we had a tested GPS track to follow and we were both rested and fresh. If we had been coming in for the first time in that weather, at the tail-end of an overnighter, it would not have been much fun at all.
We sailed pleasantly the rest of the way, until we were near Cayo Rosario, and could see Australia 31, Yamana, and another boat, anchored in the cove. Then Ulf decided to trail a fishing line. Almost immediately, he had a bite, and reeled in a two foot barracuda. Along Cuba's north coast, barracuda carry ciguatera poison. On the south coast, only the largest ones do. The rule of thumb is, if the barracuda is bigger than your forearm, don't eat it -- but would that be Ulf's forearm, or Jen's? Not a big fan of barracuda, anyhow, Ulf announced that he would not eat the fish. For a few minutes, we both hung over the lifelines, trying to unhook the dazed fish from the triple barbed whoosiewhatsit, without getting our hands slashed by its razor sharp nose barb. In the end, we couldn't do it, and Ulf said he would have to kill it anyway. Now Jen burst into tears, crying, "You have to eat it! You have to eat it!!...." Unfazed by senseless killing, Ulf proudly snapped this photo.
A few minutes later we were anchored behind the reef at Cayo Rosario. Jen was still red-eyed and incommunicado, so Ulf wisely decided to take himself, and his fish, over to Australia 31, for advice on filleting. It was eaten by that brave crew, and no one, except the barracuda, died from it.
Here was a paradise island, the real deal. Cayo Rosario is uninhabited, except for iguanas. The bay is protected by a fantastic reef, with visible breakers, making for simple entrances and exits. The water is crystal clear, and home to huge lobster and crab. The long crescent of fine white sand beach was great for walking.
With our friends on Australia 31 and Yamana anchored nearby, and the occasional company of another boat or two, we had the perfect combination of a pristine natural setting, and an easy-going social life of happy hours and bonfires.
Australia 31's Yvonne and Bernie, and Yamana's Alice (Photo:Yamana)
Olive and Reuben, the Yamana kids, sailed their excellent tender, Luna, around the protected bay. Their father, Peter, hand-built Luna, as an off-sailing-season project, while in Cartegena. The kids even built a cool, thatch-roofed fort on the beach at Cayo Rosario. Those apples sure didn't fall far from the tree.
(Photo:Australia 31)
Bernie and his brother-in-law, David, generously spent a morning, sorting out two of Sea Quill's sticky wickets. First, they fixed the computer-to-GPS data communication problem that had flummoxed us, and was slowing us down with course setting. Then they attacked the old bum Yamaha 8 outboard with gusto.
After giving it a thorough check-up, and even a shot of ether, they put Ulf under a hood for a spark check.
Alas, the witchdoctors could not revive our Yamaha 8. But they did troubleshoot every inch of it, until they were pretty sure that the problem was in the black box. And it was.
After a week or so at Cayo Rosario, with fresh fruit and veggies running low, and no desire to leave, Alice, Satu and Jen -- "las mujeres" -- ventured out to sea to score some food.
Five miles to the west, on Cayo Cantiles, there is a little monkey sanctuary, run by three workers. Otherwise, the island is uninhabited. Two of the men had come to Cayo Rosario a couple times, offering us lobster and fish, for whatever we might trade. They had come again the night before, but on their way back to Cayo Cantiles, their outboard had broken down. They spent the night sleeping in Yamana's cockpit and borrowed Sea Quill's 5 hp motor to get back to their station at first light the next day. At their suggestion, we rode over later to pick up Sea Quill's outboard, and get some fresh food from the supply ship they were expecting. Alice brought Yamana's tool kit, so that the men could try to fix their own motor. They had no tools of their own. No working phone. And just a single, broken, outboard.
While we waited for the supply ship, that arrived five hours late, the keepers showed us around the island.
Besides the monkeys, the little coral island was home to giant iguanas and jutias, those cute little rodenty animals, which they caught for "pets," as the men told us -- or in fact, for meat, as we later discovered.
We also learned how they make their own charcoal....
(Monkey Sanctuary photos: Yamana)
When the supply ship finally came puffing blackly up the wide pass between Cayo Rosario and Cayo Cantiles, the monkey keepers went out to meet it, and came back with grapefruits, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, and other good things that they shared with us, enabling us to stay nearly a week longer on our own desert island.
Back at Cayo Rosario, a new Bavaria charter had arrived with a group of young German sailors on vacation. As they were just upwind of Yamana, Peter sent Olive and Reuben out in their snorkel gear to make sure that the charterers had anchored properly. Cute, trained children make excellent spies!
Meanwhile, dipping a lure in the water, Ulf caught another barracuda that he didn't want. So he brought it over to our new neighbors and offered to filet it for them. In exchange, they kindly offered us a coveted carton of eggs! and cold beers!! We all had a fun happy hour that evening on Mariposa, with new friends.
Frank Hannemann; Alice and Ulf with new friends on Mariposa (Photos: Frank Hanneman)
It was nearly the end of May -- time to go -- although we happily would have spent longer at Cayo Rosario. With June, and hurricane season, around the corner, we needed to get moving. We studied our charts for the best route west, and prepared to leave the next day. The Mariposa crew were also heading that way, so we conferred on anchorages, and prepared to leave in the morning.
The Yamana crew came over for goodbyes -- they would soon be headed east to Cayo Largo, where Satu would fly for Brazil, while Alice, Peter, Olive and Reuben would be heading south to Jamaica, and on to Panama.
We were headed east to Isla de la Juventud, Cuba's largest island. We sailed along the outer edge of the Canarreos reef, then tucked in to Canal del Aguardiente, a narrow pass surrounded by mangroves on both sides. We set bow and stern anchors, to keep ourselves from swinging in the strong current (a lesson learned at Cayo Cachiboca). As the sun set, we saw a big turtle swim past. We spent a quiet night, and in the morning, we took up the anchors and headed out the other end of the pass into the shallow waters of the Golfo de Batabano, which separates the western end of the archipelago and the mainland.
That day we were chased by mild squalls that managed to push us along at a fresh pace, without leaving us soaked or uncomfortable. It was a great day of sailing, on smooth waters without any swell or chop. Towards the end of the day, we reached our last canal transit, Canal de la Cruz. It's a long and shallow pass that curves through close mangrove islands into the wide open gulf to the east of Isla de la Juventud. We arrived too late in the afternoon, with the sun low and in our eyes. A handful of fishermen's stakes were poor clues, for the uninitiated.
We were several stakes in, when the course turned enough to the south that the sun slanted across our beam, showing the real channel. We were on the wrong side of the stakes, in water shoaling to 2 and 3 feet. The "deep" channel, on the other side of the stakes, had 6 feet. By sheer luck, we realized our mistake before we hit ground. We carefully crossed to the other side of the stakes, then made our way clear through the winding pass. As we left it, we skimmed over turtle grass scarred from the tracks of hundreds of keels that had left their signatures in the sand.
That evening we anchored in the snug, crescent bay of Cayo el Navio, with the enticingly hilly landscape of Isla de la Juventud, Cuba's "Isle of Youth," before us.
