The bicycle diaries

The bicycle diaries
Kate Humble cycled the length of Cuba to discover a very different
island from the one you get in the movies and the resorts
Saturday September 9 2006
The Guardian

Juanita was totally unfazed by our unannounced appearance, sweaty and
exhausted, at her front door. My husband, Ludo, and I had left Havana
that morning, wobbling past crumbling mansions with the unfamiliar
weight of the panniers on the back of our bikes. The suburbs petered
out, we zipped past flat, scrubby farmland and after a couple of hours
turned off the main road and, still heading west, found ourselves on
narrower roads that wound through greener, hillier land. After 76km,
thighs aching and knees burning, Juanita's "Room to Rent" sign was like
sighting land after a rough sea crossing.

She ushered us in through the garage showing us where we could safely
leave our bikes and we followed her upstairs to a small immaculate
bedroom, private bathroom and a large fridge full of local beer. In her
slow-for-tourists Spanish she offered us dinner with a choice of pork,
chicken or some animal we couldn't identify until she showed us the head
of one mounted on the wall; it was some sort of deer.

We'd talked about going to Cuba for years. We wanted to see Castro's
Cuba, away from the film set atmosphere of Havana and the
for-foreigners-only all-inclusive resorts. Travelling around the island
by bike, staying at casas particulares - the Cuban equivalent of B&Bs -
seemed like the perfect solution. We'd never done what the Americans
seem to call "cycle touring" before, but it was amazing how quickly we
became accustomed to being on a bike for several hours a day, how
quickly it became more enjoyable and less painful - although ibuprofen
(or as some other cyclists we met called it, vitamin I) did play a large
part in that.

The scenery of western Cuba is gorgeous. The main place that tourists
visit in this area is the small town of Viñales. The town itself is no
prettier or more exciting than any other town we found ourselves in, but
it sits in a steep-sided fertile valley dotted with large limestone
outcrops known locally as mogotes. Their sides are often too sheer to
support any vegetation, but the tops are lush with tropical trees and
vines and they appear like islands rising up from the flat valley floor.

We had one of the most beautiful days of the whole trip cycling around
here. We'd stayed the night in the capital of the province, Pinar del
Río, and spent the evening at the Casa de la Musíca. It was Sunday,
over-60s night, and the place was a mass of wiggling bottoms and
jiggling orthopaedic sandals.

Still humming salsa tunes, we left Pinar the next morning, heading for
Guane, a small town about 80km away. A long steady climb took us out of
the valley, a long exhilarating downhill into the next. Fields of dark
red soil were being ploughed by teams of oxen, and in their wake white
cattle egrets poked at the newly turned soil with yellow beaks. Pigs,
chickens, dogs, goats and turkeys wandered about at the side or
sometimes in the middle of the road. Occasionally we were engulfed in
thick, choking black exhaust fumes from old American cars. As we cycled
further down the valley, the road became so little used by traffic that
people spread out rice and beans to dry on the cracked tarmac. For the
last hour we saw no one, the valley was silent, distant turkey vultures
soaring in the thermals above the mogotes.

Ready to tackle the tougher terrain in the east of the island, but
wanting to avoid a long slog against the prevailing wind, we went to
Santiago by bus, bikes in the luggage hold. Santiago is hotter and
steamier than Havana, its streets steep and narrow and there's music
everywhere, seeping from behind doors and through shutters. We headed
north to Bayamo on the first leg of a 500km loop around the Sierra
Maestra, the mountain range which was the heartland of the revolution.
We climbed all morning and stopped, ravenous, at a roadside stall where
a man with a broad smile and filthy fingernails gave us hunks of roast
pork squashed between thick slices of bread for a few pesos.

We abandoned the bikes in favour of a rattling Fiat to visit
Commandancia La Plata, Castro's revolution headquarters. The collection
of wooden huts are reached on foot only after descending and then
climbing the steepest roads in Cuba. Once at the top we walked along a
ridge, the valley spread out below and Pico Turquino, the country's
highest mountain, looming above us.

Our cycle route ran north of the mountains, and over the next couple of
days we almost lost sight of them altogether. The road was completely
flat, cutting through monochrome fields of sugar cane and endless banana
plantations. And though I could hardly believe it, I missed the hills.
Cycling without them is boring and we were actually relieved to start
climbing again. The climb took us over a high ridge and then dropped us
at breakneck speed down to the shore of the Caribbean which we would
follow for 200km back to Santiago. This was, without doubt, the most
spectacular road we cycled in Cuba. It snakes over the foothills,
traverses cliffs then plunges back to the sea. This coast was ravaged by
the hurricanes of 2005, and large sections of the road had collapsed or
been washed away. At one point, we had to cycle over a bridge so buckled
it looked like it was made of plasticine.

The day before we got back to Havana, we cycled 165km, partly because of
a dearth of places to stay but mainly because we could. Our journey of
nearly 2,000km was almost at an end. We'd become utterly bewitched by
Cuba's quirkiness and unpredictability and we'd also discovered that we
really loved cycling. Even uphill. Pedalling back along the Malecón,
Havana's decrepit grandeur on our left, crashing waves and kissing
couples on our right we were already planning where we would go next time.

Way to go

Getting there

Virgin Atlantic (0870 3802007, virgin-atlantic.com) flies Gatwick-Havana
direct from £389 inc tax.

What to read

Bicycling Cuba by Wally and Barbara Smith, is around £10.50 from
amazon.co.uk.

Where to stay

For information on casas particulares or to book a room in Havana,
contact Toby Brocklehurst on toby@incloud9.com.

Further information

Flight time London-Havana: 10hrs.

Time difference: -5hrs.

£1= 1.75 convertible pesos. 1 CUC = 28 local pesos.

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