log of the Natie M.

hi, another post from March.  Slowly getting caught up.  At anchor still in Salinas, DR.  waiting on an engine part. Mark www.natiem.blogspot.com

Cuba ch.1

3/13-14/09 By 0900 I had the bike loaded and started my trip to the city.  I checked in with the guard post at the marina entrance to let them who I was, where I was going and when I would be back.  This was not required, but I thought it prudent to let someone know where I was.  Turning onto the main road found the road very well maintained, good riding with only a few cars, and this was rush hour!  The only hazard, besides the multitude of vintage American autos chugging past, was the missing storm water grates.  Cubans love to barbeque and the grates make a perfect grill.  Compared with some of the 'rural' roads that I was familiar with riding to work in Maryland, the roads here were practically empty.  Which brings me back to the cars.  Everywhere you look you will see fully functional, some in incredible shape, some a little worse for wear, vehicles from the fifties and early sixties.   By my account, most are Chevrolets, but many Buicks, Oldsmobiles, and Fords and even a few Studebakers.  The only late model (80's) vehicles are the Russian Ladas, a soviet era vehicle imported in the thousands from Russia.  One thing that is interesting is that most of the powerplants of the older American cars have been replaced by foreign diesel engines.  The ingenuity of the Cuban people in the face of difficulties from the embargo is amazing.  I got to look in the hood of a couple of old chevys and whatever was under that hood was not born in Detroit!  I am told that it is illegal to export any of these old cars, considered part of Cuban culture and history, for many would bring a lot of money in the states.  Most Cubans get around on the big buses, most of which are relatively modern and very clean, having been recently supplied, I am told, by the Chinese.   Everyone, when coming up behind you will give you a polite toot on the horn to let you know they were there.    I rode past neighborhoods and a couple of resorts along with several embassy residences.  I took on detour to check out a neighborhood that was recommended to me and the home of the Cuban artist Jose Fuster, known as Cuba's Picasso.  This  modest neighborhood has several houses that have incredible mosaics on the concrete walls surrounding the front of every house.  Its quite striking, as you ride into the center of the neighborhood, these mosaic walls evolve into quite elaborate and beautiful sculptures, some very abstract, all covered in a brightly multi colored pixeling of pieces of tile or colored glass.  Coming upon the compound and home/studio of the artist (www.josefuster.com) I was stuck with the level of detail and work that had to go into these extensive installations.  Almost every surface and structure within and on the adjoining homes was the media for intricate and detailed mosaics.  I just got off he bike and just stared, just slowly turning around 360 degrees at least two revolutions just taking it all in.  My pictures do not do it justice.  I wandered into the compound of Senior Fuster's home and soon made the acquaintance of the artist son who was returning from a fishing trip with a lunch of two fresh bonitos for his family and workers there. The artist, besides his ceramic sculptures is also known for his oil paintings.  His sculpture is like a three dimensional representation of his painting, which is needless to say is abstract, his moniker of being the Picasso of Cuba is aptly named.   After my visit, and realizing that his art was way out of my budget I remounted my bike and headed back on the way to Habana. Most of the ride into the city was very comfortable.  My throat was starting to itch with the diesel exhaust and smog, but I was enjoying the ride.  The traffic also had a corresponding increase in density as I drew near the city proper.  Still it was a calm day on the road compared to typical American roads.  I passed embassy residences, schools (all kids in uniforms and school grounds neat and ordered), an amusement park, and several small shops and cafes with people lined up to get their lunch.  Every block and corner had a speed trap in the form of a police monitoring, with no radar, the speed of every car (and bike).   Just beyond him or her would be a motorcycle cop in case the waving over with the index finger was not enough to get the offender to pull over.  They are very serious about speeding in this country.  Some of the cars you would be hard to believe would be able to achieve any sort of speeds requiring enforcement, but, by the number of tickets I saw being written that morning, they are. I was very comfortable riding on this main artery, making good time and avoiding the occasional pot hole and missing stormwater grate (a hazard that would probably mean me disappearing into a gapping hole, bike and all) until…coming up to a stop light I drew alongside a motorcycle cop.  He glanced a couple time over his shoulder then turned and waved me to come alongside.  Oh-oh.   He was a young black man, in a starched and pressed uniform, very CHIPS looking, except with the Cuban Flag on his shoulder patch.  I moved up and started to unclip my feet from the pedals.  Just as I came alongside, I could not get the clip on my left foot to let loose.  I suddenly realized that I was going to fall over, and right into this shiny bright motorcycle and this very very serious unsmiling armed policia.  It was all I could do by reach out and gently and slowly as possible reach out to grab his shoulder so I would not fall into the motorcycle, all the while exclaiming "Lo siento, lo siento!  I remember his eyes getting very big, as if he was about to batton the hell out of me, my bike helmet not withstanding.  I explained quickly in my lousy Spanish just that,  and that I would pull over to the side street and try to understand what the apparent problem was. Making the turn, I, successfully and with a modicum of grace this time, dismounted the bike.  He pulled up and explained that I was not to ride on that road at certain times of the day, either that he was telling I would be a guest of the state if I ever touched a cop again.  Really, he was reasonably nice about a most embarrassing situation.  He allowed me to leave with a small smile and I road back across the road towards the beach to a side road.  As luck would have it, I had not ridden more than a mile before coming onto the office of tourism for Cuba.  Entering the building soon was surrounded by 4 employees all debating the best route for a bicycle to Habana Vieja.  It was quite the scene.  Finally with committee approval a detailed map was drawn for my use and I was on my way.  The map was perfect and within a couple of miles I was actually riding on the Malecon heading along the ocean on that world famous road.  I stopped at what looked like a small craft show that had Cuban art.   Also got a chicken and rice lunch at a small café.  Exhilarated by the fact that I was finally here, rode a meandering route into the city.  This strategy soon got me completely lost.  But with the unobstructed view of the capital dome and the harbor could have a general idea.  The result of this unplanned circumnavigation of the city got to see some of the parts of the city, not typically visited by the tourists, and certainly not indicated on the pretty useless official maps handed out by the tourism board.  I realize that all cities have their underside, their run down areas.  Habana is different in that the level of decay or lack of maintenance is striking.  Some buildings have been reduced to gutted shells.  Indication of some of the magnificent architecture from the early 20th and 19th century is everywhere, but much of the city is in need of repair, some buildings, especially on the outskirts looking like bombed out hulks.  The roads where busy with trucks, buses, taxis of every form (cars, pedal, and little motor powered trikes) and some building were actually being worked on.  Everywhere there was activity.  I want to make clear that I was not in the tourist area of Habana, but near the commercial port.  Its not very pretty, but interesting. After a couple of hours of dodging the traffic and pedestrians, my bicycle course was pretty much circular around the center of the city and where I was supposed to have a room.   I started to head into the center of town where my room was waiting, near the capital and where the hotels were located.  I wanted a shower before exploring on foot what I had already scouted on bike.  The casa particular was about 4 blocks from the capital building but it could have been miles away.  It was in an area called Habana Vieja and was more residential insofar as the row house residences.  The road was narrow, choked with people walking on the road and sidewalk.   The streets were clean of debris, unless there was demolition or construction going on.  Most of the building though definitely had an air of disrepair, at least on the fascade.  Very modest buildings to say the least.  Many of the homes or apartments are wide open, in that as you ride or walk by you can catch a glance of a family watching tv or eating a meal.  Most of the interiors that I could see were actually very nice.  Its almost like the Cubans prefer to keep a modest outward appearance,  while in the private space of their homes is where they can enjoy the more comfortable space.  In other words you will see a rundown apartment building, beautiful with its arches and balconies, but run down.  The concrete façade will be kind of dingy and the paint pealing.  Catch a glance inside though, and you will see an immaculate clean dwelling, with nice furniture, appliances, tv etc.  I guess in this socialist society you don't want to appear too bourgeois?   I know I attracted a lot of attention as my bike, though a common vehicle on the roads, definitely was of a different animal than what Cubans were used too.  Perhaps my wide eyed expression proclaimed my foreign status.  Anyway I was approached by several people, some wanted to know about the bike,  if I wanted a room, some just chat, some asking for a convertible peso.  Oh yea, several young and cute girls wanted to know if I wanted company for the evening.  You don't have to look hard to run into the sex trade in this city.  It was a little disillusioning.  My overall initial impression, which held true was that Habana is a very vibrant city, a lot going on, even in the smallest streets or even an narrow alleyways, always talking, music, hustle and bustle and everywhere friendly people.   Around 3pm finally was able to find the casa.  As with the other buildings and apartments, grimy and rundown on the outside, but amazingly clean, comfortable and very stylish which was why the manager wanted 35 pesos for the night, about $40 US.  I brought my bike in and set it up next to the dining table.  My room was very comfortable and after a quick shower was back out in the street.  I hoped to get in a couple of sites in before I dark.  I wandered  back over the 4 blocks to the capital, an impressive building in itself to look for the Partagas cigar factory and maybe do the tour.  Finding it took a little while but once there I discovered that they were not doing tours this week.  I did get a look around the lobby and of course the small cigar shop with lots of pictures.  In the shop was middle aged woman rolling cigars.  It was fascinating to observe the skill to make such a fine product.  Headed towards the bay and the Museo de la Revolucion.  I asked for a ticket but the woman at the counter suggested that the hour remaining before they close was totally insufficient to get the whole revolutionary experience.  She was pretty emphatic so thinking that maybe I would not be able to do it justice, decided to come back in the morning.  With the day pretty much done at this point I headed back towards the street that the casa was on.  Neptuna street is a narrow city street with lots of shops, mostly empty, and a couple of sidewalk cafes.  I wandered around just watching people going through their lives and inquired as to where the music was tonight.  Most of the leads in that direction involved a good deal of walking and after my ride that day was ready to find a place to sit, listen to a band and maybe watch the Classico Mundial  baseball game tonight.  Eventually I ended up at the l'Hotel Angleterre near the capital.  The front entrance to the hotel lobby is a Spanish style veranda with high ceilings and archways surrounding.  It was a beautiful setting.  A quintet was setting up in the corner so I grabbed a table, pulled out a montecristo and ordered a beer.  Pretty much was rest of my night.  Around 11 walked the dark streets back to my room.  Had to make a couple of passes before I was able to find it, the street lights are few and far in between in this neighborhood.  I have to say though that even though my radar was up full power as I walked around, never felt threatened or insecure.  Habana is definitely a very safe city.  The closest thing to a hassle was the gauntlet of prostitutes or chicas who offered services or just company.  Sounded expensive in more ways than monetary, so I declined.  Back in my room, sipped a rum and watched baseball till the broadcast failed and the tv died.  Outside my window the sounds of the city, the music, motors, talking laughing, yelling continued almost to dawn.  Didn't sleep much. The next morning decided to check out of the casa, and before heading back to the marina, walk the area where the tourists hang out.  This is a totally different part of Habana, with shops with designer clothing, souvenirs, and rum and cigar shops.  I'm not implying that it was Neiman Marcus but the 4 blocks were packed with tourists from all over the world.  There were street performers and music at every corner coming from the cafes.  The buildings here were better maintained, again that impressive colonial Spanish architecture.  If Cuba ever gets its economic act together and the embargo lifted this city is going to be a Mecca for American tourists.  The road led down to a park where I several stands had been set up.  Crafts persons selling intricately woven clothes, macramé or lace is how I would describe it.  Also were several antique book vendors.  I picked up a couple of old books of Cuban poetry, maybe I'll get around to translating it someday.  Leaving the park returned to the Museo de la Revolucion.  The building itself is pretty impressive.  Built originally as the presidential palace, it is a highly ornate, oversized marble edifice, complete with a room designed by Tiffany's, literally.  Marble and gilding are everywhere.  It was built by one of the earlier dictators as a tribute to his own vanity I would imagine.  The mirror room was amazing, where inaugurations and receptions for foreign dignitaries were held.  Now its dedicated to preserving and displaying the artifacts and history of the Cuban Revolution.  You generally walked from one room to another looking at displays, mostly photographs, describing the individuals and events leading up to the Fidelistas coming to power.  I was especially impressed with the detailed dioramas and displays describing key battles and the people who were instrumental at those moments in Cuban revolutionary history.   Many of the displays were also dedicated to the individuals that were key in the success of the movement.  It was pretty shakey, with some significant setbacks at first,  but with the dynamic personalities and leadership of Che, Cammillo Cienfuegos, Frank Pais, and of course Fidel, they pulled it off after a somewhat shaky start.  The museum is something the Cubans are very proud of.  The place was busy with not only school children but also individual adults wandering around, carefully reading the displays.  Of course there also tourists, and students there taking pictures of each other, next to Che's sniper rifle and other artifacts. As it was getting past noon and I wanted to be back at the marina before dark, did the ride along the  Malecon one more time, occasionally stopping to take a photo.  I want to come back again and do a more detailed tour but I was glad to have gotten a taste of Habana at this critical juncture in its history.  The local newspapers were full of articles about the visit of several American congressmen that were coming to possibly begin the negotiations for normalization of trade.  I was also anxious to get underway again, out of the marina and its associated fees, and onto Pinar del Rio province, further down the coast to the west. Arriving back at the marina, I started to make arrangements with the authorities for the despacho to my next destination, Puerto Esperanza, which I thought would give me good bike access to the famous tobacco and agricultural region of the western end of Cuba.  It looked like I was going to be able to pull it off until I was informed that the laundry that I had turned over to the nice lady at the marina, was not ready.  In fact it was even in the marina.  Even though they had laundry machines there, it was decided that it would be taken elsewhere to be cleaned.  Never did find out what that was about.  Resigned to a morning departure, made some dinner and turned in early. 3/15/09 It was fast approaching noon before I was able to get out of the marina.  Getting my laundry and some final purchases at the food store plus a couple of bottles of Havanna Club to stock up took no time and it was about 9 when I motored up to the customs dock for clearing out of Marina Hemingway.  More interviews, inspections, papers, stamps, some more questions about my grandfather, and with a final fairwell from the authorities I was off.  One wrinkle was that they would not grant me clearance to Puerto Esperanza, saying that there were no authorities there.  That was curious as I was hoping to meet up with some Canadian cruisers who left with clearance for there the night before.  I pressed it as far as I though prudent and relented with clearance to go to a small offshore island, Cayo Levisa, where there was a guarda post and a hotel.  I was wondering what could be the reason that they did not want me to go to a real Cuban town but to a state resort. The sailing was good, as the northeast prevailing winds were still with me.  I needed to make some serious miles before April as the trades would be more to the east , making it more difficult to head that direction on the south coast.  This leg in itself was almost 100 miles and I realized that I would be arriving sometime around midnight the following night, not my favorite time to be negotiating a strange and unfamiliar inlet through the shoals and reefs that surround Cuba. I arrived as I had calculated close to 11.  I carefully wound my way with the help of my chart plotter and a French boat that I was able to raise on the radio.  The depth sounder showed less than 4 feet at times, which was rather disconcerting, being totally pitch black and knowing that I was surrounded by reefs.  I made it though and the lights of the guarda post and dock came into view as I came around Caya Levisa.  Exhausted I set the anchor just offshore, and fell into my berth.

log of the Natie M.

Hi Sorry to be out of touch for so long.  I have posted a new entry and will be catching up.  Some computor issues and internet access have prevented me from contributing.  Hopefully I will have these problems all resolved before the end of the month and get everything uploaded.  So if your still interested just log on to the blog site: www.natiem.blogspot.com Hope you are having a good spring. Mark

log of Natie M

Log of the Natie M. 3/6/09  Hog Cay  N22o14.636' W75o45.130' Well here I am at the bottom of the Bahamas, behind Hog Cay which is just north of Ragged Island.    I have been here since arriving on the 4th.  The weather has been a little problematic in the 20 knot winds that have persisted with this high pressure trough to the south.  I left Long Island on Tuesday the third saying goodbye to another solo cruiser and good friend as we went our separate ways to different destinations.  I have to admit that I still look across my solitary anchorage half expecting to see Lutra lying at anchor. After almost two weeks anchored in Salt Pond I and sometimes in the company of Patti of Lutra, had explored about all there was to see in the area.  Had a great bike ride, again the roads there were pretty good shape and I was able to ride my road bike with ease and at speed, the only hazard being an occasional herd of goats.   Everything was closed , what there was, but found a ruin of an old Spanish church, which some sources say goes back to the 17th century, though no local I asked was sure, just that it was always there.   Again, as in other places in the Bahamas, made new friends and ran into friends I had made before.  A short walk across the island you come to the open ocean, with the dramatic limestone cliffs and crashing surf.   Across the bay there is a small tiki bar where I met some ex pats who having retired or just tired of life in the states have established roots here.  It was interesting to get their take on life in the islands.  I was having a great time but I was getting the urge to move on.  Hanging out with Mike at Long Island Breezes was great, he is a wonderful host and very helpful and very helpful and friendly to cruisers, many of which return there every year.   Spent some time watching football (soccer)at the resort  as the European championships are underway.  Learned some more about the finer points of the world's most popular sport.  My last night was capped with a dance hosted by the resort featuring a popular local band led by the infamous 'Smacky'.  Danced as long as the knees could hold out and around 1am headed back to the Natie M.  A great ending to my visit to Salt Pond.  The following morning I had decided to follow Lutra back up to Joe's Pond both for the good company   but the shelter of that beautiful anchorage.  A significant cold front was to pass through on Sunday night and I was not sure of the shelter at Salt Pond.  With a little fuzzy head I awoke at dawn, checked the weather and  weighed anchor.   I discovered to my frustration that when, after some difficulty, when I brought up the danforth anchor I had been using, that the shank was bent over at a 45 degree angle.  Apparently in the winds and current, I had hooked something immovable and when I motored up to the anchor put too much strain on it.  Great!   Another piece of marine grade abstract art to add to the collection.  I hoped that the remote setting of Joe's sound anchorage might present itself the opportunity to repair the anchor.  Its my No. 2 anchor and I would hate to have to replace it.   It has been especially effective in areas of grass or hard bottom.  Finding a metal shop or welding shop, much less a vise that I could use to straighten the anchor is extremely unlikely in the remote Joe's Sound.   Putting that new problem aside got underway and a 15kt NE wind and was soon making 5 plus knots. In my continuing efforts to achieve some sort of self sufficiency in the food department, I let out my trolling rod with my new lure, affectionately dubbed "Squidward".  As I was in a close reach with some gusty winds, I was pretty busy with keeping the Natie M. on course, much less landing lunch.  Sure enough, after three hits on the lure, something large grabbed a hold and I was able to set the hook.  As the line screamed out I increased the drag while wrestling with the tiller to bring the boat more into the wind and slow down.  Fishing from a sailboat underway adds a whole new level of challenge.  I had a lot of line out so it took awhile reeling it in, but soon spotted something jumping out of the water and lurches in the line.  I had a fish and not a piece of debris!  After a struggle a large snapper came alongside and I quickly netted my first 'big' fish.   I guess it was around 8 or so pounds so I think I am justified in calling it a big fish.  Now what do I do.  I got on the radio and announced proudly to Lutra that I had finally moved myself up a couple of notches on the food chain.  I was a killer, a hunter!  But wait, the fish was not dead yet.  A guy on the radio interrupted us and advised spritzing a little rum into the gills to stun the fish which was now flopping around the cockpit looking for the exit.  I had only the dregs of one bottle from the previous week.  The teaspoon or so that I was able to squeeze out of the bottle sedated the snapper somewhat but it was now staring at me, in a somewhat drunken haze, still gasping for breath.  As being stared at was a little less disturbing as the prospect of losing a fresh seafood dinner , I grasped the neck of the rum bottle and clubbed the poor creature in the braincase.  That seemed to settle him down a bit.  After a half hour of disassembly, I had two large filets, about a 3 pounds total.  Dinner prospects had definitely improved.    I washed the blood and scales down the scuppers in the cockpit just in time to drop sail and prepare for the tight approach to the anchorage at Joe's Sound.  It was just as exciting as before, with the current this time going out as I motored almost full throttle through the cut.  Again I avoided touching bottom which looked all for certain on the sand bars, and came into harbor to anchor with 4 other boats, including Lutra.  This shallow anchorage is very sheltered; nevertheless, I set two anchors so that I kept away from my neighbors with the tide change.   As the sun was setting Lutra and crew joined me for an incredible dinner of Yellow tail Snapper and mixed greens ala southern Maryland.  I look forward to the next deployment of Squidward. 3/1-2/09 Saturday hanged with Patti.  She has become a good friend and I've enjoyed the company of such an independent free spirit.   We walked the sand flats at low tide and played with her dogs.  We also walked a couple miles down to a local resort for wifi and beers.  We met some new and old friends/cruisers there and just generally enjoyed ourselves in this idyllic setting.  I did manage on the first day there, with Patti's help, to bend the shank back to almost its original shape.  That in itself is a subject worthy of an extensive treatise on Stone Age metal working.  But leave it to say that the opportune location of a large crack in a concrete wall and a piece of lumber we found near an abandoned house was sufficient to make the repair.  I now have my anchor back in service.  Who said "give me a big enough lever and I'll move the world"? The front came through, with not the adverse weather predicted and it was time to move on.  Lutra was to head north and around long island and on to the Turks and Caicos.  I was to turn south to the Jumentos and on to Cuba along with the Canadian boats that I had met in Long Island.    3/3/09 The following morning I said goodbye, not with a light heart to Patti and her crew, Sula and Mirai.  Patti observed my run, again against current and tide and this time with breaking incoming swells , out of the cut and south to the Comers Channel and the Jumentos.  My last sight of her was waving from the beach.  Fair winds Lutra.  My sprits were somewhat lifted when a mother and juvenile dolphin appeared briefly at my bow as I sailed south, I took it as a good omen.  Whole lot of solo sailing ahead. I set course for the narrow Comer channel that leads through the shallow banks from Long Island to just south of Great Exumas.  I was now firmly heading southwards once again after several weeks straddling the Tropic of Cancer.   The wind started out light but freshened with mid day and I was making a solid 5.5 kts when I turned south below Little Exumas.  The water was clear to the bottom which gradually dropped away to 25 feet from the 7 feet of the Comer Channel.   My goal was making it to Water Cay and hopefully a protected anchorage.  The seas were manageable but with the north wind, now around 20 at mid afternoon, I was concerned about finding a reasonable anchorage at sunset.  Examining the charts I noticed an island just north of Water Cay called Barren Rock.  As its name implies, this narrow slab of rock with minimal vegetation, runs NE to SW and forms somewhat of a barrier to the big swells that were starting to form out of the North.  At sunset I was able to round the south point and anchor well off the rocky shore with 125 feet of rode out (remember Thunderball Rock).  A rather large anchorage, I was only joined by a Bahamian fishing vessel also seeking refuge from the waves.       N23o03.425' W75o40.514' 3/4/09 Wednesday 0630  Up and away with the wind at my back.  A fast jibe in 20 knot winds but once out into the ocean the waves calmed down to 3-4 feet.  Rather nice sail most of the day, and I made great time with 6.5 knots most of the way.  Had to stay at the helm most of the run as the following seas were overworking the auto helm.  I listened to the music on my mp3 player that Patti had downloaded for me.  A lot of new bands that I did not know.  Love the 'Waifs', awesome band!  Also played with the shortwave receiver.  Getting a good signal for the weather has been a problem as of late.  My primary source had been Chris Parkers' Caribbean Weather Net.  Fortunately for him and unfortunately for me he is on vacation for the next week.    I was able to get a decent weather report before leaving Joe's that should be good for another day or so.  Lately, some sort of interference was preventing me getting a good signal, not to mention the distance that I was steadily accumulating.  I also have to get in the practice in catching the other broadcasts, government and otherwise. I had selected three possible anchorages for that night, but with the great sailing and fast conditions, by 1500 I was closing in on the inlet between Hog Cay and Ragged Island.  I have to admit a bit of trepidation as the on shore seas were cresting at 5-8 feet.  I was running downwind directly at the shore surfing waves that were easily 8 feet..  Fortunately I waited before turning into shore.  To the north of the inlet mouth was a coral reef and a large rock and to the south, a large shallow shoal.  The entrance channel itself is shaped like a lazy 'S'.  I turned the motor on but just as a backup, the Natie M., I felt was much more maneuverable, albeit somewhat ballistic, in these conditions.  Needless to say, as I am writing this now, it went well.  I came into the harbor which was shallow to the south near Ragged Island and 8 feet in the channel.   Dropping sail I motored north and around the back of Hog Cay and discovered about 10 boats anchored.  I was somewhat surprised as hearing previously that few boats made the trip down here.  Raising one of the boats on the VHF was given information on the anchorage and also invited to a birthday party on the beach.  As there were two anchorages side by side, I chose the one unoccupied.  In big wind I like to lay out a lot of rode and the Natie M. does like to 'dance in the wind' a bit.  After setting things in order I cleaned up and got in the dinghy for the short ride around Lobster Hole point to met and greet the other cruisers.  The anchorage was quite the typical cruiser scene.  A couple of large Catamarans and a nice Bristol 45 and Pearson lie at anchor.  A large aluminum power cat was also there, quite a sight, looking somewhat like a naval vessel.  Never did get the story.  Anyway arriving at the beach I could see against a dramatic rock cliff wall a small encampment decorated with the usual jetsam one finds in these waters, including the prerequisite fishnet floats and great drift net draperies hanging from the trees with the backdrop of beautifully eroded sandstone cliffs and overhang.  The 'furniture' was made of various barrels and boards set up around a fire pit.  Clearly these cruisers were serious colonizers!  As I learned later many of them were on their 4 or 5 season here and had established friendships with the people on Ragged Island, who occasionally ran supplies or just joined the festivities.  One of the cruisers on the s/v Kokomo ran the Cruisehiemer shortwave cruiser net from this location. The party soon got into full swing with food and beverages aplenty, barely pausing in the festivities for a passing squall.  As I said many of these cruisers come here every year and spend a considerable amount of time in this remote place.  Duncan town is the only settlement nearby, on Ragged Island but one must come pretty much self sufficient when cruising these parts as the settlement has little to offer insofar as provisions.  By night fall we were singing to the accompaniment of a guitar and banjo with a couple five gallon buckets for percussion.  It was a great time, but I faded shortly after 8pm, weary after a long day at the helm, and headed back to the Natie M. 3/5/09 Wind still blowing like crazy.  I have never sailed in an area before where too much wind was a problem, but that has been a big part of my Bahamas experience.   I would like to move on but with the 20plus knot winds and high seas am pretty much stuck here.  Spent the day puttering around the boat and reading and writing in the log.  I'm also attempting to brush up on my Spanish.  Other than that didn't even get into shore.  I've been listening to the Cuban am stations as that is about all you can get down here.  Great music, but having difficulty following the conversation, which there is a lot of.  Do know that the Cuban National team is playing in the Baseball World Classic and there are a lot of programs about women (year of the women/ women's issues festival??)    One thing that is different from the states is that current events and history are a major part of all programming.  You'll be listening to Cuba rap music or salsa and then it will switch to a discussion about the current economic crisis, of course in the context of a socialists point of view.  Anyway, if this wind ever lets up I will be down there soon. 3/6/09 After breakfast and switching out the anchor rode for a new one, I left for the Southside anchorage on Ragged Island.  I wanted to see the famous Eagles nest restaurant which unfortunately is now closed for the past several  years.  I had read in the Washington Post travel section about this place probably 5 or 6 years ago.  Unfortunately it had seen better times.  The place was a little run down and the place closed down except for the owner's family living their.  A huge pig and chickens along with a pack of small dogs scampered about (except for the pig of course).  The anchorage was extremely rough, with a Haitian boat run aground on shore along with some other abandoned vessels. The building itself was intact, including the fuselage of the DC-3 which was incorporated into the roof of the building.    I took the dinghy in briefly to check out the building and true enough, and took several pictures of the interesting use of recycled aircraft.  Pretty neat structure, but I can see why its closed, its near nothing except a little used airstrip.  I hope someday its can reopen. 3/7/09 My decision to move to the anchorage on the lee of Ragged Island was ill considered.  It was a rolley night, with the swell wrapping around the south point of the island with its eastern facing cut and long fetch..  Spent most of the night previous rocking in my berth and reading.  It calmed somewhat in the early hours so I slept in.  I planned to use this anchorage as a staging point for the jump off to Cuba.   Unfortunately the weather window was not appearing as soon as I had hoped.  All weather reports were indicating favorable conditions not until Monday at the earliest.  It been just plain snotty since I arrived in the Jumentos.  I decided to take the dinghy around the north point of the island and go in the narrow dredged channel that serves as the only access to the Duncantown settlement.   I heard on the radio of the arrival of the weekly mail boat, the lifeline for the settlement.   As I dinghied north I could see it anchored about 1 mile offshore, the closest it can get to the settlement.  Small power boats shuttled the supplies and passengers the two miles into the government dock.  It took close to two hours but arriving at the same time as the boats off loading the mail boat, I could see that many of the towns folk had turned out to pick up their orders.   Duncantown straddles a ridge that runs along a peninsula that separates the banks with the ocean.   To say this place is remote is an understatement.   The view from the center of town , is quite stunning, the salt ponds and ocean to the east and the mangroves and banks to the west provides quite the panorama.  It being barely a mile long I soon had walked most of the town.  Stopped in a small club for a cold beer and talked to the owner.  Raphael, who kept calling me white boy, was very informative about life here.  Barely with 80 or so residents the houses are modest with chickens and goats roaming apparently at will.  Almost every yard had a hammock made from drift net remnants.  Very few cars or trucks, but mostly golf carts is how people got around.  Of  the settlements and towns that I had been to in the Bahamas this was the most secluded.  The lowland that lies just behind a small ridge that borders the ocean is where the large salt works are located.  These shallow ponds are periodically flooded with sea water and then with the sun evaporating the water out, salt crystals soon start to form on the low stone dikes which form a sort of grid pattern.  The interesting thng is that they still work these ponds.  I grabbed a baseball sized chunk of the stuff out of a storage barrel for the salt shaker back on board.  These works have been around for more than a hundred years and like many other places, no one seemed to know how far back they go.  Stopped by the small market and then headed to the local school house where I was told that I could get a wifi signal.  I was soon up and running getting out some long delayed emails and hearing from friends family.  Several cruisers also got in touch to let me know of their location and progress.  Pattie announced her safe arrival in the Turks and Caicos after a 38 hour passage without a auto pilot.  That's a long time at the helm.   Glad she made it safely.  3/8/09 N23o31.67' W75o46.123' Spent the previous day checking out the caves that dot the shoreline.  Found one that went into the island pretty far, at least as far as I was willing to go.  As I scrambled up from my dinghy into the cave entrance was startled to see a large owl, of what specie I do not know, swoop out of the entrance.   It looked like a snowy owl, which is somewhat incongruous considering the latitude.  I have to admit it made me jump as it seemed to come out of nowhere.  Just inside the entrance, another owl appeared out of one of the numerous holes in the ceiling and flew over to and disappeared into another hole.  I peered up into the hole but it went several feet into the ceiling before becoming dark.  There was a lot of guano on the floor of the cave so I imagine these birds had taken up residence for quite awhile.  The cave also had several low passages that went further underground and as I was not equipped for a spelunking expedition and crawling around in guano was not appealing, I only made a cursory exploration.  Ended the morning with some snorkeling in the company of a school of eagle rays.  By 2 it was time to return to Natie M. to begin preparation for departure, finally! I had been in contact with some other boats who had more sophisticated weather reporting systems and they all reported that the wind was finally going to settle down along with the seas starting that day.  True to forcaste the wind did seem to be down to 15 knots or so, but I knew that the waves would still be up for a while longer.  Nevertheless, I was determined to get underway before dawn tomorrow morning. SIDE NOTE:  I would like to explain my decision to disobey the Helms Burton legislation and the US economic embargo against Cuba.  Over the years I have read many history both of the left and right of the relationship between our 'super power' and the island nation of Cuba.  From what I have read, no matter what you may think of the respective economic and foreign policies of the two nations, I have come to believe that the main reason that there is an embargo is that the nation and people of Cuba have and are determined to chose their own course, irrespective of the interests of the United States or rather the international corporations of the US.   I have come to believe that the policy of the United States has nothing whatsoever to do with human rights or democracy.  In fact if you look at the history of the US foreign policy in respect to Latin America , only rights that our government has ever been concerned with is that of the rights of American corporate interests.  It is in this light, that I have also come to believe that the embargo is inhuman and illegal from the standpoint of international law and what I believe what the United States should stand for.  The United States is the only country that conducts such a vindictive and warlike foreign policy against Cuba.  Finally and in addition, my family history has significant ties to Cuba insofar as my Grandfather was born on the island and I wanted to see this country at this critical juncture in its history.  I realize that Cuba is not a workers paradise and is on the cusp of a major change, possibly for the good, possibly otherwise.  It is with this understanding that I chose to take this opportunity to come here before this change.  I want to see it before it is internationalized, with McDonalds, Hilton hotels, and all the material crap that we Americans have come to believe constitute human rights.  In publishing this log, especially the sections that you are now reading, I put myself at risk of serious legal sanctions, involving heavy fines and possibly the loss of my only possession, that of the Natie M.  I believe it would be hypocritical for me not to include in my blog my observations and experiences here, having made the decision to come.