It was one of the best days of riding I have had in a while but now I sat in a seedy hotel, the only hotel in Manzanillo. I was ordered there by immigration a couple hours earlier for a meeting the next day. My day ended just as bittersweet as the Cuban coffee with which it started.

The days riding started out fine enough but the pothole strewn roads demanded much of my attention. I decided to make it a slow social morning stopping at anything that resembled a coffee shop to first have a couple shots of strong Cuban coffee and then answer the same old questions about the bike.

Coffee in El Uvero, Cuba

Breakfast club near Carleton Blanco, Cuba

I had known by a look at the map that my route would follow the southern edge of the Sierra Maestra mountain range but I was pleasantly surprised at just how spectacular the scenery was.

Coastal route (Santiago de Cuba – Pilon) in Cuba

Sierra Maestra’s near La Mula, Cuba

Riders dream – Coastal route (Santiago de Cuba – Pilon) in Cuba

The roadway that followed the coast was certainly a beautiful ride by bridges and washouts kept me on my toes.

First dodgy bridge near El Uvero, Cuba

Third dodgy bridge on the coastal route (Santiago de Cuba – Pilon) in Cuba

With the bike on the coastal route (Santiago de Cuba – Pilon) in Cuba

Unfinished business on the coastal route (Santiago de Cuba – Pilon) in Cuba

It wasn’t only the road conditions that had me slowing down. The view and sight on the southern route had me turning back for a second look as well.

Fisherman on the coastal route (Santiago de Cuba – Pilon) in Cuba

More fisherman on the coastal route (Santiago de Cuba – Pilon) in Cuba

White sand beach on the coastal route (Santiago de Cuba – Pilon) in Cuba

Crab crossing on coastal route (Santiago de Cuba – Pilon) in Cuba

Goat pasture on the coastal route (Santiago de Cuba – Pilon) in Cuba

Nearing mid afternoon I rode into the town of Pilon near an area I planned to camp called Cabo Cruz. I picked up a few things in a small store and started through the town of Niquero on my way south and was quickly waved over at the police station.

Police station in Niquero, Cuba

It turned out I wouldn’t be camping at all that night… or spending my time anywhere near Cabo Cruz. I waited about 40 minutes on the side of the road then a white Lada pulled up and a older man in a brown military uniform with two stars on his cap showed up. He looked me over, went into the office and left shortly thereafter.

I was then directed to park my bike in the police station lot and led to an office and put on the phone with immigration. The immigration officer wouldn’t identify himself but told me I was no longer allowed to camp in Cuba and that I must stay in hotel or homestay for the remainder of my trip. He then informed me I could stay near Niquero but advised me that I was required to be in the immigration office in the city of Manzanillo the next morning. Manzanillo was two hours away so it meant I had to get on my bike and ride there that evening, get a hotel to be in their office the early when they opened.

Mi no gusta Niquero, Cuba

I gave thought to going out to camp in Cabo Cruz but reconsidered. Regardless of whether I like the rules and procedures of the country I was travelling I was a guest and there only at their permission. I got on my bike, rode to Manzanillo and got a room at the only hotel in town.

My ordered destination at Manzanillo, Cuba

I had a late supper and a cheap cigar in 50’s style hotel that hadn’t had a renovation since it was constructed in that decade. I was sure to set my alarm and request a wake up call so I wouldn’t be late for my meeting the next morning.