Woke up to our neighbor's boat burning a couple days before leaving Florida.
The guy was able to get out and swim to shore and thankfully it never drifted!
Ginny is able to snag a bit of sleep in the Gulf Stream after our first night out on the water. One has to be quite exhausted before falling asleep amid the constant splashing and rocking.
Dead Man's rock on the northeast corner of Cay Sal bank. The closest thing to land we had seen in 20 hours.
Cay Sal, where we snuck in a night of sleep anchored on the South side.
Flying our flags as we crossed the international boundry into the sunset.
Are we there yet?
So many hours of nothing but this!
Steve radios in to the Port to announce our arrival.
We look pretty funny staying in a marina but we wouldn't be allowed on land otherwise!
Digging on 5 cent ice cream and a bag of fresh 15 cent rolls.
Steve checks out a weird truck. We were told people create vehicles like this to get around a law prohibiting personal ownership of cars manufactured since 1960 or so.
This isn't really a picture of Ginny, it's a picture of the traffic light countdown.
The cabstand.
Bliss.
Subsidized housing.
Some of the friends we made in Varadero tackle the problem of getting the dinghy out of the water, since it is prohibited to be afloat.
Construction and apartments in the town of Santa Marta.
Direccion Municipal Saludo Varadero
Steve heads the line for fresh squeezed sugar cane juice. As you can see on the left the husks are coming out of a grinder in the trailer and folding as they hit the neighbor's wall.
Cactus fence!
An excellent bike ride through the country.
Resting in the shade. Across the street they are hacking up bloody meat to sell.
Old bunkers from the Revolution. We were told the bullet holes date back that far as well.
Not sure if we're supposed to be here, but bunkers are irresistable!
... and kind of scary.
Leaving Varadero to make our way West.
Woke up in Santa Cruz del Norte to a bunch of these little fishing boats swarming around until some certain hour when they were allowed to leave the port.
The Guarda Frontera station in front of which we were allowed to anchor after much yelling, paranoia and chaos. They “watched over” us all night.
The crowded bus to Havana, just before we stopped and crammed 15 more people on.
For a 2 cent bus ride one can hardly complain.
Yay for neat old buildings!
Quintessential Havana
This picture was just an excuse for Steve to take Ginny's ice cream...
So many cool cars!
An entire alley devoted to weird art.
The Malecon.
Malecones rule!
It's scary to watch these boats come in to the narrow opening into the harbor. They travel very closely to the opposing cliffs.
Let's take one to Miami!
The closest thing they have to advertising.
Sailing by la Habana
Impromptu creepy parade.
We thought this might have been the stolen dog of a guy we met, so we took some pictures of ourselves near the dog and ended up befriending it.
They sell the yummiest pizzas out of this garage!
Roof dog!
Marina Hemingway
The Immigration office.
Jaimanitas.
Bahia Honda, where old ships are sent to die.
It's sad!
Cayo Paraiso, where Hemingway stayed when he hunted submarines...
The nastier the papaya looks on the outside...
...the more delicious it will be on the inside.
Steve accordions on the ancient garbage boat. Cayo Levisa, the only place without a marina where we were allowed on land.
Ginny tries to photograph the awesome walkway and Steve blocks the shot.
Thurston anchored by the dock at Cayo Levisa.
The cookies all come from Brazil... and are muy delicioso!
Beautiful Cayo Levisa.
The coast becomes mountainous.
Steve gets naked to pull us through the shallow mangrove channel.
Glorious shade!
The opening to Bahia Guanacabibes, where we anchored in peace with no one around to watch us.
In the morning Steve broke the law by swimming to land.
Cayo de la Leña
Los Morros, the Western tip!
Sailing off the western tip. Wait, we're doing WHAT??!
Steve reefs in the middle of the Yucatan Straits after about 26 hours at sea.
LAND HO!
Another successful crossing!
