Plume

Going Back in Time in Cuba

Last year, we left the Plume family in the Amazon. Here they are in Cuba, discovering Marea del Portillo, a small village by the sea, and many deserted islands.

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Published on 26/09/2024

By Gilles Ruffet

Issue: 198

Published: Nov. / Dec. 2024

Discover this issue

Who: Flo, Lili and their three daughters
Where: Cuba
Multihull : A 1997 Athena 38
Facebook: @Le voyage de Plume

We arrived in Santiago de Cuba, where one of our first sights on land was a childrens’ playground that looked straight out of the Soviet era. Here, time really does seem to have stood still, as witnessed by this completely rusted and holed staircase leading to steeply descending concrete slides. Or the dozens of rocking swings that seem to have been waiting too long for a horde of children who will never come again. A little further west, we fell in love with Marea del Portillo, a small village by the sea. We had some unforgettable times there, including horseback-riding in the foothills of the Sierra Maestra, the mountains where Fidel Castro, Che and their brothers-in-arms started the Cuban revolution. We also made friends with a Cuban who grows his own coffee plants, picks the berries and then roasts and grinds them. You instantly forget all the coffees you’ve ever drunk and just remember this one. I think George Clooney should come here for a visit... Then, every evening, the beach was a meeting place for the village children, who came to cool off in the water. And as our daughters are still children, they were no exception to the rule: here, it’s quite natural to go swimming on horseback. As for us, we introduced the Cuban children to the joys of the paddleboard pulled behind the dinghy. We left Marea del Portillo with a twinge of regret, but the catamaran was loaded with fruit and vegetables; in particular three bunches of bananas. There were 45 kilos, or around 400 bananas, which we tried to refuse, but that would have been impolite. We tried every banana recipe we could think of. In salads, in a cheese gratin and in cakes (nine in all, and tripling the recommended quantities). When the bananas are green and cooked, they taste just like potatoes. We really enjoyed ourselves, even if we have to be honest and admit that we won’t be making some of the recipes again. There are many fabulous places in Cuba, which, as we tend to forget, is also made up of thousands of paradisiacal islands and islets, most of which are deserted; like the one with a ghostly shipwreck that set us off imagining all sorts of extraordinary stories. Or the 55-metre (180-foot) lighthouse, whose permanent keepers take turns every month to maintain it, switch it on and off and every morning and crank up a weight that, as it descends to the middle of the stairwell, causes the lens to rotate to warn ships of the danger of this remote rock. And what a thrill to go and watch the sea turtles come to lay their eggs on the beaches at night! True to form, we continued to try to get off the beaten track and go where others don’t go to find real and authentic human contact. So, there we were, trying to reach some isolated dwellings by going up a kind of river that was obviously uncharted, as no-one seemed to go up there. At one point we found ourselves stuck in a mud bank with no way of finding a way through, in the middle of a flock of pink flamingos who were wondering what a catamaran was doing there. That’s when Flo shouted from the helm: ‘There’s a saying in Brittany: “When the seagulls can touch the seabed, it’s time to tack”. But what does about the pink flamingos? We eventually got through the mud...