Day 3, February 14, 2020: The Road to Baracoa

A reversal of course, Gibara back to Holguín, skirting the city via a highway junction and wending eastbound toward Mayarí. Gentle rolling hills transition to more mountainous areas. Much of the area is comprised of individual agrarian parcels sometimes being worked by horses and hand-directed plows or only rarely old tractors, sometimes fallow, immensely green. Simple homes, often open to the air with no screens or window glass. Dogs here and there, too wily to venture out onto the road. Entering the town of Mayarí, here are clusters of inquisitive faces alongside the road, looking at us, figuring that we are tourists, but of what type?

Then, there, a police officer signaled our bus driver to pull over and stop. The officer had a hand-held radar. All remained patiently on the bus, and Juan Ramón and Viviana descended the steps to confer with the fuzz. There was an animated exchange, Juan Ramón talking and Viviana listening. Ten or so minutes later, after a congenial handshake, Juan Ramón re-took the wheel and we were on our way. Best we could sort out, JR received only a warning, and not a formal “multa.” We passed over some RR tracks, a river, and were again in the countryside.

A bus ride of several hours included one rural stop to recharge the flushing tank for the on-board “facility.” Along the coast from Mayarí is Sagua de Tanamo, an interesting, active town beyond which lay more hilly terrain, heavily wooded. On the outskirts of Moa there is a roadside grocery-gasoline station. It is brightly painted and there are signs indicating that inside will be sodas, food, sundries, etc. The shelves were almost empty. There were no sodas. Options were a few bottles of water, a smattering of sandwiches, some saltine crackers, and an Oreo clone made in Brazil. Outside, we lined up for the single toilet, manned by a fellow with a gallon bucket which he would refill from a hose and use to flush the bowl after each person. Tips appreciated. We were lucky - two other tour buses pulled in just after ours, and those tourists had to line up behind us. We are guessing that they were Poles and Russians.

This BR attendant had the rattiest sandals ever. It's an open question whether they are all he has, or whether they are his "work" shoes.

East of Moa is Cuba’s largest mining zone for nickel and cobalt. The locale is bushy and stripped, almost lunar in aspect immediately surrounding the smelters. Small streams course through. Although they run clear, the water is probably contaminated. The main facility is a behemoth, just enormous in scale.

Nickel mine Moa (photo credit Foresight Cuba)

Further beyond Moa, east of the mines, is a bay open to the Caribbean, with access and docking for ships. There the road turns a bit inland. Thus begins a stretch of “highway," almost to Baracoa, that is ………..surreal. Juan Ramón earned his pay and showed his professionalism by keeping us safe and alive on this road. There is intermittent truck traffic, to and from the mines and harbor. In some places the road is barely wider than one lane. Still vehicles pass in both directions. Long segments are either unpaved, partly paved, or alternate between pavement and gravel. Holes abound. At times Juan Ramón would go 5-10 mph, or less, and maneuver across almost shoulder-to-shoulder. We met buses going west, if one can call them buses - they are old, open Soviet or ancient American trucks, cargo spaces of which are canvas-covered, maybe containing wood benches or maybe not, often packed with riders. Still, the way was very beautiful, steep, with impressive peaks and forested valleys, scattered houses.

We by-passed the Alexander von Humboldt National Park, a pristine preserve with a large lake. Descending toward Baracoa, we caught the sudden attention of young man in his front yard, who ran down, grabbed and mounted a bicycle lying beside the road, and then drafted the bus down-mountain for a couple of miles before pulling off at another house. Looked like he’d done it before, and was lying in wait.

In the hills just west of Baracoa, we lunched at Finca Duaba, a working cacao farm. They have an outside restaurant and a bar. Excellent live music, too. Another tour group had the adjacent tables. They were probably Poles, or maybe Germans. Not native English speakers, to be sure.

An interactive face-to-face tour of the growing, harvesting, curing and processing of cacao followed lunch. Here are links to four brief videos that we made Together they offer the gist of the full presentation, from a general introduction to cacao, to the final creation of cocoa powder. You don't need to know Spanish, because Viviana interprets the whole way, but if you do know some Spanish, it's quite clear and fun to follow.

https://youtu.be/o4MRs6QyhhU
https://youtu.be/s5FFUJduNWM
https://youtu.be/AKf4Ql07K1E
https://youtu.be/v2Lg9UFXpoA

The oldest cacao tree at Finca Duaba, El Gran Abuelo

Gran Abuelo - don't know the age, but it's old

All witnessed, and/or practiced, the scraping of dried and roasted cacao into powder. It tastes quite bitter - until sugar is added. It also clings to skin (noses especially).

Coming into Baracoa in late afternoon, the sun was angled and golden. We had negotiated miles of countryside having countless giant, beautiful palm trees. Forest and fields near the coast and the town itself show the impact of Hurricane Matthew in 2016. It was a category 5 storm. Every fifth or sixth (it seemed) palm tree had been snapped off somewhere upper or mid-trunk, or the tops had been lopped off leaving skeletal trunks devoid of fronds. Clumps of blown-down trees littered the fields. Even so, it obviously had been, and still was, spectacularly scenic and verdant landscape, and nature is already recuperating.

Those of us who were to stay in casas particulares on the edge of downtown, disembarked first. We who remained onboard unloaded at a small square next to an old fort, at the end of a long thin street along the east edge of Bahía de Baracoa. By bus, we were 10 minutes away from each other; by foot, at most 3 minutes.

Locals welcomed us to Baracoa. Smiles, flowers (for Valentine's Day!), abrazos.

Bici-taxis carried us to our casas particulares. 

Congenial folks out and about along our street, cooking with charcoal. 

Digs for Dave and MJ, Faith and Viviana

Dusk from our balcony

That evening for dinner (la cena) we gathered at La Roca, which features authentic Baracoan cuisine - including lechito de coco, calalu, frituras de malanga and ajiaco (thanks Peggy G. for writing this down). For many of us every dish was a new experience. To the surprise of absolutely nobody, audience participation with the musicians is expected. For the Cuban unofficial national anthem, of course.

Video link, video starring Gabe, Stacie, MJ, and David S.:

https://youtu.be/aX80rS0UjEA

A great finish to a long day:

La Roca - clockwise from 0600: Faith, Margo, Katherine, Yudi, Viviana, David S., Peggy, Maria, Stuart (sorry, Stu).