I don’t know much about Che Guevera but from what I can tell he liked to camp.  He spent a lot of time in the bush and why, I suspect only Fidel or Raul could say for certain.  But as I relaxed under the stars in western Cuba enjoying a cigar I got a bit of insight as to why.

 Havana looked a whole lot better at 7AM then it did twelve hours earlier.  The skies turned blue and the heavy rain cleaned up the streets.  The darker threads of Havana’s fabric were still sleeping so I took advantage of the time to look around unmolested.  I went down to the waterfront where I met Marrero.

Havana’s Marrero on the waterfront

He was a retiree who had sailed to Canada on one occasion on a cargo ship.  He remarked at how cold it was told me a bit about the lighthouse that stood across the channel and went on his way.

I took a few photos on the waterfront, visited a couple of historic properties before heading west along the water to find my way out of town.

Havana’s waterfront with the lighthouse in the background

Waves crashing on the waterfront in Havana, Cuba

Fisherman leaving Havana’s waterfront

In the Havana Club distillery

As I was passing the mouth of the harbor I was waved over by the National police but the officer was not interested in my paperwork but more in my motorcycle.

Juan’s ’97 Moto Guzzi Nevada Club police bike

Juan was riding a 1997 Moto Guzzi Nevada Club and which he told me was the only motorcycle owned by the police with more then 250 cc’s.  We chatted a short while but he became tied up with the radio so I rode away.

I passed by some interesting sites and stopped to take few photos.

Bike parked out front of the Theatro Karl Marx

After taking a photo I was again harassed by the National Police saying I had run a red light.  I asked the officer where and he shrugged saying his partner saw it.  I called his bluff, told him they were wrong and he waved me through.

I pushed further down the coast and ended up eating breakfast roadside in the town of Playa Blanca just west of the city.  There I saw a group of kids getting ready to surf.  I asked a few half hearted questions and snapped a photo and they went back to their business.

Surfers in Playa Blanca, Cuba

I rode west into the town of Cabanas and while looking over my map by a park I heard a bike pull up behind me.  It was followed by another and I got talking with Jesus and Jilberto.

Jesus and Jilberto riding in Cabanas, Cuba

Jesus rode a ’57 Norton and Jilberto a ’47 Triumph.  Both bikes were in decent shape but had a lot of “personal touches” added.  They asked to sit on the big bike and insisted I take a photo with each of theirs.

On the ’47 Triumph

On the ’57 Norton

I said yes because it is not often you get a chance to say you sat on Jesus’ motorcycle.

I continued along west in search of another day like to one west of Santiago de Cuba but as hours passed I became less enthused.  The small towns on Cuba’s northwest shore were a depressing grey.  The streets were lined with drab apartment blocks which I would have expected to see in Russia rather then Cuba.

Santa Lucia, Cuba

I continued on until the evening looking down every spur and into every village hoping for that magical campsite to appear.  In the early evening I rode into the woods and out of sight where I set up camp.

Camp near Sandino, Cuba

I laid out some of the provisions I had collected along the way, had supper and relaxed on my sleeping pad.

Camping in Cuba

What the sight lacked in daytime appeal the night made up for with a brilliant show of stars.  A collection of fireflies the size of humming birds happened by to join in the show and the end of day ended on a favorable note.