We went to the bus terminal and surrounds talking to people twice, but nobody seems to know anything. Several hours spent in the police station waiting for people to take more details from our passports and to get us to sign a multitude of papers. It was hard to relax knowing that there was nothing that we could do and not knowing how we could continue the trip without the tent. With very little and extremely slow internet, we doubt that we can order another on from Ireland in time and do not trust that it would arrive at the Post Restante even if we were successful. With the minimum price for a Casa at €20 per night, it’s hard to think what we can do now with our limited resources and 24 days in total left in Cuba.
Christmas Day for Tadek. We woke early to try to return to the bus station and offer the locals a ‘reward’ for returning the tent. The things stolen were the tent, our two bags for airports, my Gore-Tex jacket and Teva sandals. The tent is the main problem that we cannot replace. In order to try to get some information, we offered €250 for the safe return of the tent, but the locals seem to be too worried about the police to do anything. One of the workers at the police station suggested that the reward might work, but it was illegal for the police to be involved in offering it. We went to the bus terminal and surrounds talking to people twice, but nobody seems to know anything. Several hours spent in the police station waiting for people to take more details from our passports and to get us to sign a multitude of papers. It was hard to relax knowing that there was nothing that we could do and not knowing how we could continue the trip without the tent. With very little and extremely slow internet, we doubt that we can order another on from Ireland in time and do not trust that it would arrive at the Post Restante even if we were successful. With the minimum price for a Casa at €20 per night, it’s hard to think what we can do now with our limited resources and 24 days in total left in Cuba.
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Up early and a quick pump up of Tadek’s tyre which is still slowly losing air. We had to re-trace the road from the night before, but with fresh legs and eyes things looked much better. Arrived in Niquero hoping to find coffee, but again no show. This area of Cuba must have a serious shortage or just does not like coffee. Some bread like Pizzas later we were off for our next one-horse town up the coast. The going was easy, with only a slight headwind to face. The towns seemed to pass much more quickly than we had expected even with the ever deteriorating road surface shaking our bones. Even after several stops for refreshments, we had reached our intended destination for the night by 2:30pm. A bad decision was made to cycle on to the next town (another 28kms) in the hope that we would find more buses going to Santiago de Cuba. After a tough end to the journey we had clocked over 100kms. Arriving at the bus station at 17:30 we were told that there were no more buses out of town in our direction that day. A dilemma ensued. The tired city of Manzanillo has 150,000 inhabitants and too many of them seemed to be offering us advice. We returned to the town square to get something to eat/drink and discuss our options. Some locals offered to help find a Casa Particular for us, but came back stating that everything was full. One offered for us to stay at his home, but Tadek thought that it could be a trap (the police also thought this might be the case later). At 11pm we left out ‘helpers’ telling them we were heading out of town to camp, but really wanting to head to the bus station to camp there in relative safety. We arrived at the station to find it dark and seemingly closed. After shouting at each other and blaming each other for the mess we were in, we decided to head back to town to look for a Casa ourselves. As I was pulling out of the station to catch up with Tadek, someone pulled the back of my bike, cut the bungee strap holding the tent bag and ran off into the darkness into a wooded area as Tadek tried to take chase. The thief disappeared quickly and we were left shocked and homeless. The police took about 10 minutes to arrive and did nothing to look for the culprit, but merely asked us whether we needed any food or drink. When trying to get help, we actually found out that the bus station was open, but the handles had been removed, probably in order to stop thieves from entering. Some hours later, the police took our statements and found us a nice (but expensive) Casa (over the avg. monthly wage for one night!). Outcome was that we were told that we would have to stay in the town where we had been robbed for at least another 48 hours when the police investigated the case. Now that we have no tent, staying in Cuba is not really a possibility as the state controlled prices for accommodation would break our budget in less than two weeks – it’s cheaper to stay at a budget hotel in France! Woke up with a view of the sea across the fields. Although we intended to start our climb over the edge of the mountain range early, Tadek discovered that his front tyre was totally flat. A quick fix was done, but was not really successful as the hole was on the seam of the tube. A steep climb caused it to fail and another attempt was made at the top. I walked most of the steep bit, and by then the sun had become unbearable. A few cycle tourists passed us on the way seeming fresh and full of energy. After the steep section, the going as quite pleasant with rolling hills mainly downhill to the next coast. Found a fantastic village café without coffee (Pilon also had no coffee), but with very good quick hot snacks (most with bread). Our intended destination appeared too quickly (they still had not coffee) so we decided to cycle another 18kms to Play Las Coloradas, the point where Fidel, Raul and Che and 80 others arrived in a ‘yacht’ in the mangrove to start the revolution. Entry to see the monument was €6 per person, so we decided that it was a little too expensive (the average wage is only €20 per month). Undeterred, we found a friendly kiosk selling snacks and alcohol and sat down with some locals and their kids. We must have looked bad, as one of the locals actually bought us some drinks and would not take one back. As we sipped our drinks, one of the guards to the monument (1km down a gated road) offered us a special ‘evening’ price to get in. Everyone was happy with the cash-in-hand deal and we headed off on our bikes to see what they had created to glorify the disembarkation point. It did not disappoint! The yacht used had been recreated in ply-board and stuck on the base of an old truck. There was a long ‘pier’ made of decaying concrete that went out 1km into the mangrove. We cycled along the meter wide path at times having to dismount and climb over missing sections to get to the end. Happy that we had seen this historical point we headed back to the mainland, while being eaten alive by thousands (if not millions of mosquitoes and sand flies). We could not get our long clothing on quickly enough as the vile creatures laughed at our powerful insect repellent. The true discomfort would arrive the next day. Returned to the kiosk for aperitifs before trying out our first ‘local’ meal. Earlier in the afternoon a persistent lady had cagouled us into trying some local specialities. Another chance for Tadek to eat some fish. It was expensive compared to local fare, but was our first true meal since entering Cuba. Not exactly special, but after two weeks eating stodge; a salad, some rice, plantains, fish and a spicy dressing were very much appreciated. We pitched our tent near the beach, campismo and kiosk then lay down to be eaten again by the mosquitoes that had managed to squeeze into the tent with us. More information on revolutionary sites in Granma Province Cuba Awoke to the perfectly empty tropical beach to ourselves and a passing pig or two. Went for a swim at about 8am, then did our washing and had a shower in the small river that fed into the sea. Could not want for more really. At 10, we set off towards Pilon, the last coastal town before a daunting trip across the Sierra Maestra mountain range. The terrain soon became tougher as we entered the national park. The road disappeared on several occasions; either having been washed away by the sea or where a tunnel had collapsed. The coastal route that we had expected to be fairly flat became increasingly hilly. This is where we discovered that my bike was not quite geared correctly for hill climbs - also my fitness levels were not quite there either! I had to walk several times pushing the heavy bike. On one of our several rest stops in the shade we bumped into a Cuban couple carrying oil home with their rickety old bike. We shared our biscuits with them as they too needed more energy to get to the top of the hill. The tyres of the old bike were ‘reinforced’ with car rubber being sewn over the old tyre – master craftsmanship. The villages dotted along the route turned out to be nothing more than a few clustered houses, with no commerce at all excepting a TV room that served the nearby communities. Redevelopment work after Hurricane Dennis had supplied some of the wooded houses with solar panels to generate energy. Unfortunately for us, this meant nowhere to restock on bottled water, or to buy snacks along the route. It was strange to see such beautiful coastline with fantastic beaches and very little development. It is as pretty as the South of France, but with a tiny proportion of its inhabitants. We arrived in Pilon expecting another interesting small town, but discovered a bit of a hell hole with nothing to offer – especially food wise. The people were at least friendly. Disappointed we headed out of town to find somewhere to camp. On the way we worked out the reason why none of the cafes in town had any food to offer – bread had run out! The Cubans seem to eat everything with bread, so when there is none, the cafes don’t offer food at all. We stopped at the last kiosk on the edge of town to see what he had. He said he had nothing, but we realised that he had just cooked himself an omelette (tortilla) to go with his last bread roll. He agreed to cook us the omelettes so at least we managed to get something to eat for the day. At six, we packed down and headed for the local café for a strong, sweet coffee, before touring around the town. Spent the morning with Eliesor, had lunch of swordfish/fried banana, then started the next stage in the heat of the day at 1p.m. The road improved, but several sections had been washed away and a few large bridges had collapsed. There was almost no motorised traffic all day, just a couple of motorbikes and one car. The mountain scenery that bordered the coastal road was spectacular at every point. The area is famous as being where Fidel, Raul and Ernesto landed to start the revolution of which the locals are immensely proud. As the sun was setting we found a beautiful beach setting for our campsite and sat supping more rum as a few locals finished their day hand-line fishing from the shore. The last two days have really shown the beauty of rural Cuba. Not much sleep as the guard kept waking up and walking around spitting. The sun came out early, we packed our wet gear, and hit to road towards what was advertised as being one of the ten best bicycle rides on the planet. It was hot and sticky, but the scenery was spectacular and the traffic minimal. As we progressed, the road started to deteriorate until at one stage it was merely a muddy dirt track with lake like puddles making going difficult. Pigs were bathing in the centre of the highway and cattle and birds coming on for a drink. Even the Russian lorries struggled to navigate a route. Tadek stopped at a river after the worst bud bath to clean the debris from his brakes and gears. Here we met a Canadian holiday maker who was on his tenth vacation at a nearby hotel (the only one that we had seen in 40kms). He explained that the ‘road’ that we had been travelling on was a two lane highway when he first visited, but 4 or more hurricanes and rising see levels and washed it away. While chatting, we were almost bulldozed into the river with our bikes when a bull on the loose was being chased by 3 desperate locals in an attempt to re-catch it. Arrived in the local area main town of Chivirico expecting it to be another dusty quiet backwater with no much happening. Surprised to find a very clean and friendly, gem of a town. Great beach (not much used in winter although it must have been over 25 degrees), fantastically kept park/square, every amenity – in fact it was much like a coastal town in Liguria, Italy. We decided to stay and found ourselves a beach café selling beer and grilled FISH. The first fish that we can across on the island (not that we had tried posh hotels). Tadek tucked into grilled swordfish with fried banana and cabbage salad. His first real meal on the island! We met a sports teacher/radio presenter for the local Coral Radio who chatted to us all afternoon and evening. Although he spoke no English, we managed to communicate quite easily. He suggested that we camp just off the beach, behind the manicured town park. It was a strange move, but nobody seemed to mind. Our new friend actually stayed up all night on a park bench overlooking our pitch to make sure nothing was stolen! A late start and quick stroll around town for provisions for the trip west. The town streets were busy with villagers selling fruit and vegetables. Found our supplied after serious queues, had a coffee with milk (something quite hard to find in Cuba) and bought some strange polenta/cross shortbread biscuits. After wasting most of the morning, we cycled west from Santiago on the coast road. Did not get very far before dropping into a vegetable market on the edge of the city. Found an interesting looking canteen there selling local food (other than bread or pizzas). Thought is must be worth a try, but only found a communist style soup and some buck wheat with chopped raw vegetables. Interestingly, also met a Czech lady working in the kitchen who helped us out with our ordering. She seemed to be treated as the lowest grade worker there and was not allowed time to actually come out of the kitchen to talk to us. After our food break, off we went again into a horizon that was ominously filling rapidly with dark clouds. It got hotter and hotter, until as expected, the heavens opened. It was not a short shower . Had to pull into a soviet style holiday beach cafeteria, totally drenched (even the Gore-Tex jacket was not up to the job). The rain did not relent with even the local sheep taking refuge under the cover of the café roof. The two serving ladies were friendly, but had very little on offer to sell to us. We chose a bottle of wine (that must have been there for years) and paid the princely sum of 60 national pesos (equivalent to £3). The day for darker and the rain heavier. After giving us free food (bread rolls of course), and us sharing our biscuits, the serving ladies left stating that they did not expect more customers to arrive that day. We were left with no choice but to camp in the open sided cafeteria. As it got dark, the security personnel joined us for a drink (Tadek had stashed a small bottle of rum and a large bottle of coke into his panniers). Much needed in the circumstances. One guard insisted on staying with us all night and even slept on the floor to make sure that our bikes and us were safe (we gave him one of our roll mats). Arrived, dazed and sleepy in bustling Santiago de Cuba. Packed our bikes, which were thankfully undamaged, and cycled uphill into the heart of the city. Three squares form the central axis of the town and are filled with shops selling nothing and cafes/street vendors selling the same old food – bread roll with either, omelette, fatty burger, mayonnaise (only mayo!) or a bread like pizza with little cheese and negligible tomato (if any). Still no fish or use of locally grown produce. Spent an hour or two walking around town trying to find a Casa Particular while avoiding several Casa pimps (their usage usually adds another €5 to the nightly fee). Eventually found a suitable place for the bikes and us. Washed all our clothes, showered and made ready to see the town. Visited the factory where Bacardi first started his business (he was barred from Cuba for supporting the wrong side during the revolution). Tasted a very nice 7.5 year old dark rum now made at the factory. Tried to find a hat in town, but the shops were all too empty – it is said that although there is no food in the shops, everyone eats well, although there are no clothes available, everyone dresses nicely, although there is a shortage of petrol, cars and lorries keep running. Trouble is that you have to be Cuban to know where to find everything J Intended to visit a Cuban renowned music/dance bar, but awoke after siesta to find that the guest house owner had already locked up and gone to bed, so we had no way to get out or back in. After doing some maintenance to the bikes, we set off into an even stronger headwind for the remaining 45kms to Sancti Spiritus. The hills weren’t really any larger than we have come across before, but with the wind they seemed horrendous. In search of water, we stopped off in a local shop to try to buy some drinks. This is where we found that non-city folk are rationed and we could not actually buy anything in the whole shop, especially not the milk that we desperately needed as we had run out of water (and they had none of the bottled variety). The local ladies who had packed into the shop for its advertised opening hours decided to help. Two of them gave us roles, but at first nobody would help us out with milk. To say thank you for the roles (that they would take no money for) Tadek gave them a French Country Waterways Torch key ring. One of the ladies scuttled off home and bought us back a litre of the best milk that we have tasted for ages. She finally agreed to accept some money for it and we sat on the step drinking milk and eating the roles with marmalade. Slogged the final 25kms into town with only a stop to get water and eat a rather nice papaya that we had bought from a stall at the side of the road (the only places that we have actually seen in Cuba that sell decent quality fruit and veg.) Now sitting in the town square thinking about getting back on the bikes to find the bus station and information about a bus to Santiago de Cuba or Barracoa. The head on wind that we have faced for the last two days means that we are going to have to get the other end of the island and then make our way back to Havana. Reserved a space (we think) on the bus to Santiago for 21:15. 3 hours to kill before the bus so headed back into town to get some food. Easy for Tadek, but not much available other than plain bread for vegetarians. Searched around all areas of town and found nothing although did find a burger bap seller of 60+ who was seriously overeducated for the job! Managed to bump into Brian (from the plane) who had been adopted by 3 loud Cubans for the evening. Shared a couple of beers with him in a cheap bar and totally forgot about the bikes outside. Luckily all that we lost was one hat that was tied in with a bungee to the back of the bike. At the bus station the bikes were squeezed into a tight space left by the fully occupied bus and we were stuffed into seats at opposite ends of the bus. The air conditioning blasted out all night without adjustment as we careered over potholes and increasingly poorly maintained roads towards the east (looks like south on the map) of the island. When the Russians pulled out in 1990, they left a partly finished motorway with exits and bridges to nowhere and only completed the surface from Havana to just after Sancti Spiritus. Trinidad – it really does resemble a town where time has stopped (somewhere in the 18th Century). The whole town is protected by the unesco and is using the money well to maintain and improve all the buidlings. Everywhere you look, there is something that is photo worthy. Managed to find one café that sold milky coffee, and now realise why it is so expensive compared to the norm. Milk is rationed along with any other cow product and as foreigners, we are not allowed to buy it. After dragging our bikes around the cobbled city for an hour or two, we headed out towards the beach for a well earned rest after the 92kms of the day before. Playa Ancon in pretty, but not as commercial as Varadero, and much smaller. They do have some coral reef there though to make it a little more interesting. After lazing away the afternoon, we started the journey towards Sancti Spiritus across the mountains. The journey out of town was hard with a head on face wind making the going very slow. Just as it was getting dark, we managed to find a suitable campsite and threw up the tent quickly to avoid the grass flies. The pitch was tilted and bumpy so we did not really get the best nights’ sleep. With a comfortable bed, we managed to sleep in until 7am (we are usually on the road by then). After feasting on cakes and biscuits at a patisserie, we left town on the main highway to Trinidad. We somehow managed to miss the road that we wanted to take and ended up on a little used well maintained road through the foothills of the mountain range. Although the first part was painful, the whole journey was amazingly pretty and quiet. The people were friendly and the going got easier as we approached the sea and the coastal road into Trinidad. Bought some fantastic fudge on the side of the road for £1 for 8 fairly large slabs. Slept the night in the tent on the side of a river far from the main road. The bikes had received a bit of a battering on the train as it crashed and bashed its way through the countryside. The baggage handlers had also been playing with the gears resulting in repairs being necessary to be able to ride into town. Arrived in the main square to find a café open, so had a couple of strong black coffees when we read about the town that we had accidentally arrived in. Too tired to think, we were ripped off by 3 young lads wanting us to change 10 CUC into 2 x 5 CUC notes. The 10 that we received was fake. In Santa Clare there was a mausoleum to Che Guevara that was not open on Mondays, a very poor cathedral and a Cuban cigar factory to visit. The cigar factory tour was interesting even as we were joined by 18 elderly Canadian (and Americans who could not say that they were American). Headed out of town on way to Cienfuegos past the closed mausoleum. At last we could see people working on the land and producing food – the area around Havana and Matanzas was totally uncultivated and no fresh fruit or vegetables seemed to be available. Intended to camp before getting to Cienfuegos but everything was farmed, so we ended up cycling into the centre of the town and finding ourselves a Casa Particular. The manager was of Polish decent – his grandfather was a Jew who had left Poland in 1928 to the US, but ended up in Cuba in 1935. The manager had studied political science and worked (in some capacity that we could not work out) for the army. His explained that the current situation in Cuba suited everyone – Raul Castro and the government could blame the poor economy on the US blockade, the US could excuse themselves from lifting the embargo on the fact that the revolutionary socialist government was still in power, and the 3 million Cubans in the US were not going to get sent back. Having decided to take the train one day later, we headed up the coast to Varadero (the most popular tourist destination on the island). We expected Benidorm, but found a relaxed place with low rise buildings, white sandy beaches and nobody hassling you. Stayed a short while paddling in the sea, then faced a head on wind for our return to Matanzas for the train. Stopped off to try some snorkelling at a coral reef on the way back, but the sea was really to choppy, so all that happened was Tadek swallowed plenty of sea water and lost the glass from the goggles that he had hired. After burning ourselves there for about an hour, we headed off to try to find a cheap rowing boat to see the Rio C???. Had to drag our bikes down a rough , rocky track to get to the campismo that hired their flaky fibreglass boat out for 2 CUC (1 CUC is just less than 1 euro). Mission accomplished, Tadek dragged the fully loaded bikes back up the hill. Discovered that the train to Santiago only goes twice a week, so rapidly changed our plans to take any train that was available to somewhere that we had not been. Santa Clara at midnight was available. The tickets could not be bought until 1 hour before the train, so we headed off back to the taverna to test some more Cuban alcohol. It was much needed as the trip on the train turned out to be a nightmare – nothing like the train service in India!!! Buying a ticket was bureaucratic, confusing and time consuming. The waiting room was freezing and noisy with two televisions blaring out different programmes. The train itself was more than decrepit – a dilapidated Soviet train that stank like a male urinal. The ride was scary with the train hurtling over badly joined tracks, round tight bends and up and down hills. We slept fitfully for about 3 hours before arriving in Santa Clara at about 5am.
20 more kilometres to Matanzas in the drizzling rain. Cuba has been much colder than we expected. The route got more beautiful, but the hills got larger. Arrived in Matanzas at about 9:30am and quickly gorged ourselves on omelette in a roll with cheese. Bought some bread pizzas for later as there seems to be very little food on the routes. The roll seller spoke fantastic English so we could briefly discuss what it was like in Cuba when the Russians moved out. Got the impression that Cuba before they left was a much better place. Stopped raining now and at the only internet place in town (the post office). Doubt whether we will get to many places to post these updates as they are few and far between. Could not update our website as the hosting company that I chose is barred from Cuba. Found out about a train at 10pm to Santiago de Cuba (in the east of the island). Cycling east to west would mean that we would avoid fighting a head on wind most of our journey. Undecided, we went back to a classic Cuban taverna overlooking a busy junction and square. Left after a shandy and coffee to find somewhere to camp. Headed up the coast, didn’t manage to find a cheap rowing boat up the river, bit did happen upon a decent spot on the beach to camp
Woke up at six in order to pack our panniers and make ready to leave Havana. Bought some cheap bread and sweat bread and cycled off to a local, smart, hotel to find a decent road map of Cuba. Mission accomplished we headed off for the ferry that would save us about an hour of cycling on our way towards Matanzas and the eastern beaches. At the ferry they insisted on us emptying our just packed panniers to show them ALL the contents. They were OK with my Swiss Army nail clippers, but told us that we could not take our Swiss Army knives. We looked angry and they finally relented and let us on the boat after Tadek showed them the map of where we would have to cycle if we could not take it. The boat had NO safety equipment and no doors. The other side was a little poorer than Havana central and much more built up than I had expected. Several stops to ask directions, before we found our way onto an exceedingly well kept highway that would take us all the way (105kms) to Matanzas. At our first stop, I managed to leave my helmet on the steps where I had been sitting. Once I had realised, some 3kms later, it was too late. I rode back to see if it was there, but on the way I passed a Cuban wearing an amazingly similar helmet to mine. Ah well, 6 more kms on undulating terrain that I really did not need. The route was quite depressing, with oil derricks and fuel refineries stretching on for miles and a hideous stench of oil and fumes all day. We really struggled to find anything decent to eat and only had 3 poor quality chocolate biscuits for lunch and dinner. I started to flag seriously when we passed 50kms, but we could not find anywhere to stop. The beaches were monopolized by gated holiday resorts and there was no land where a tent could be pitched away from the road. Just as it was getting dark, we found a track leading off the main road and pitched our tent on a patch of earth with a view of the sea.
Woke up early (due to the time change no doubt) and read a little of the pdf version of our Lonely Planet guide book – definitely not the best way to read a book! Breakfast was booked at the Casa. €4 for fruit, bread, omelette, fruit lassie and coffee – expensive, but cheerily served and a welcome start to the day. As we prepared to go out touring the city for the day, the rain started. Undeterred, we set off to the Malecon (something like a worn, torn Boulevard des Anglais in Cannes). Once there, the heavens opened, so we took refuge under a colonial porch (under reconstruction of course). Thirty minutes later and still no let up, so we scooted back to the Casa for a quick change into dry clothes. Next to the owner of the hostel where we were supposed to be staying who gave us some information on where to go and what to see. The Casa Particular owners here group together to make recommendations, so we had the impression that all the information that he provided was in his best interest and not necessarily ours.
Back again to our Casa before heading out in slightly better weather to find the bus and train stations and information on how to get the Santiago de Cuba. As usual we went the wrong way and found only a city bus station – to make things worse, the waves crashing against sea walls threw spray and worse over us and our bikes. Information gathered, we decided that both options were poor and that we would cycle out of the city tomorrow instead. The rest of the afternoon was spent in Havana Veija taking in the beautiful colonial buildings of the Unseco protected old quarter. Twenty five kilometres clocked up during the day without us even noticing it. The pollution from the old American and Russian (Ladas mainly) is abhorrent – you feel that it has filled your lungs and can’t remove it however you try. The air will hopefully be more refreshing out of the city. Good news for Tadek is that we changed some Euros into the Cuban National Peso (instead of the Cuba Convertible Peso) and managed to get some rather cheap food. Small, acceptable, if slightly bland pizzas for 10 peso (less than 50 pence each). I fear that this is what we will be living on for the whole month now. Tadek’s alarm failed again, and we woke up with only 30 minutes to shower, dress, eat, and launch the bikes and bags into the Scooby. Mission not accomplished, we finally left 30 minutes later than planned. Even though we were braving the rush hour through Basingstoke and onto the M3/M25 motorways, we had no problems and arrived at Gatwick South Terminal with plenty of time to spare. Straight to the check in desk where all was going smoothly with our sour faced check-in assistant from Virgin Atlantic, when Teresa decided to keep to the rules and inform the airline that we were carrying a MSR multi-fuel cooking stove and empty (brand new) fuel bottles.
Off went Miss Miserable to find a supervisor and we were kept waiting for 10 minutes with no news. She finally returned with a glamorous supervisor caked in make-up who was in radio contact with their ‘cargo’ manager. The actual stove and fuel pump could be loaded (although they had both been used and smelt of fuel), but the empty, new bottles could not. Tadek lost the plot and was on the verge of being offloaded for aggressive behaviour until a fellow, mellow passenger informed him that he had been arrested for something similar. Our flight with the fantastic BA, 4 days earlier had been no problem – we also notified them of the stove, but they were happy when we told them that no fuel was in the bottles. No post office at the airport meant that there was nothing that we could do with the bottles. A second supervisor came over to tell us ‘NO’ and we were left with little option but to book in the bags, minus the fuel bottles, with Miss Miserable, and try to find ‘Oversized Baggage’ to check in our bikes. Once in the relative secrecy of the Oversized Baggage room, on the spur of the moment we decided that we could pack the offending (freshly scrubbed) empty bottles in with our bikes as they would appear as it they were drinking bottles – actually, I would have been more than happy to use them as such and had indicated so to the ‘supervisors’. Bikes and bottles passed through the scan with no problems, and we left for passport control waiting for our names to be called over the tanoy and for us to both be offloaded ;-) Some ten minutes later, we decided that all must be OK and tucked into the complementary Bailey’s in the departure lounge. Tadek finally calmed down as we got to the plane and realised that we had fooled the system. We have already met four other cyclists on the their way to Cuba – 3 at check in, including one tandem, and another sitting next to us on the plane who will be travelling for 5 weeks on a second hand Claud Butler. 23:20 Arrived in Jose Marti Airport 40 mins late and had to wait until all other bags were off-loaded before the bikes came out. It took another hour putting the bikes back together, changed some money, bought some water and headed off to central Havana. We had thought it would be 15kms, but turned out to be 25kms. On the way, we passed lots of old cars on the way, mainly old American classics, but plenty of decrepit Ladas and Fiat 126s. Night time bakeries wafted pleasant smells through the fumes from the old bangers; everyone tried to help us, even an axe wielding old man who appeared on the dual carriageway outside of town in the complete darkness. We finally arrived at our booked Casa Particular to find that the booking agency had not actually booked it. The owner, Louis, quickly found us an alternative down the road, provided us with a coffee while we waited and even helped us with the luggage and bikes so all was more than well. Turns out we have an apartment with kitchen and expansive roof terrace. Tadek popped out to get some beers and we savoured the sounds and smells of old Havana while shivering from the unseasonably cold weather. Four days in cold, frosty England are coming to an end. Jabs are complete, Bags are now wrapped in CTC plastic bike bags from Wiggle (hopefully the fact that the baggage handlers can see that the package is a bike will mean that they suffer less damage). Panniers have been packed into one large, zipped rucksack cover to keep within airline baggage regulations.
Dad is really looking forward to another motorway trip tomorrow. Gatwick in rush hour - bet he can't wait! The weather deteriorated over the afternoon and more snow made driving conditions treacherous. Witek (Tadek's dad) could not drive with his summer tyres, so we decided to take public transport to the Okecie Airport. Out flight was at 7:40am, so we had to catch the first 189 bus from Sadyba. It took us 30 minutes to get the bike bags and panniers (see the photos on the Poland page to see why) to the bus stop - it usually take 5 mins walk! We expected to take 2 buses to get there, but the first connection was missed. We waited another 25 minutes at the windy bus stop (still minus 8 degrees). The 182 arrived labelled up to Okecia, but when as were settling in for the short trip to the terminal, the bus turned off in the wrong direction. We quickly hopped off a the next stop, but then had to drag all the equipment back up the road to catch yet another bus. Check in was easy and the flight was great (it's definitely worth paying more for British Airways, rather than suffer the rigours of the likes of Ryan Air).
The bikes had a fairly good trip too! Only one slight crushed pedal (which actually might have been a little bent before). Dad was there at the airport to take us the 40 mins back to Tadley. My home made bike box was a little big for the car, but we finally managed to get everything in. 4 days in England and then the adventure begins. Now in Warsaw getting the last items for the trip in various shops across the city. It has been minus 20 some of the time that we have been here, and is now warm at minus 5! Can't wait for plus 25 in Cuba and Costa Rica
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Teresa and TadekInexperienced cycle tourists of Cuba, Costa Rica, Panama, Nicaragua, Thailand, Laos & Cambodia Categories
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