CUBA TO PANAMA

- WELL WORTH THE EFFORT

Dave & Kerry Beard

(David and Kerry Beard have been awarded the OCC Australian Trophy for their three-year circumnavigation aboard Skaffies Romance, an Arends 33, of which this passage forms part.)

The crossing from Cuba to Mexico's Isla Mujeres can be very rough. Vigorous cold fronts descend from the Gulf of Mexico and the Yucatan Current runs north at 5 knots or more, but Skaffies Romance struck it lucky, sailing under spinnaker and only motoring the last few miles as dawn was breaking.

We really enjoyed the little, low-key, holiday island which is only a couple of miles long. In fact some of the houses have ocean views both sides. Our trusty bicycles were tied to coconut palms on the beach with no interference, and the marketplace overflowed with fruit and vegetables - in stark contrast to markets in Cuba. Life was relaxed - mañana (later), the (in)operative word, held sway. In contrast, the mainland city of Cancun was afrazzle with traffic and noise. Too many cars on narrow streets - quicker to walk the city than take a cab.

One of the most enjoyable features of Mexico was the family restaurant. Just a couple of extra tables added to the dining room, a few extra ingredients, and there you have it. Conch dishes are a firm favourite, but the traditional 'chicken in chocolate sauce' (served lukewarm) is obviously an acquired taste. It was with reluctance that we left Isla Mujeres on 22 February 2000 to sail south towards Panama. We clung to the shoreline to view the coast and marvel at the Mayan ruins.

Whilst sailing an overnighter the wind came up and the sea became surprisingly rough and short. As is the way of breakdowns, the autopilot went haywire during a rain squall with two ships approaching through the rain. David had to go over the stern to engage the wind vane, copping a rogue wave that filled the cockpit. Ah! The joys of cruising.

After a long night's beat Skaffies Romance entered Norte Cay the following afternoon. The navy came out to inspect our papers - quite harrowing without a common language but with machine guns pointed our way. They kept on about some numbers. David thought they wanted to know our departure date and said, "Twenty-six". They asked again and again until he wrote it down for them. They shook their heads and indicated it wasn't right. He wrote it again and they laughed. After much searching for single words in the dictionary they pointed to Kerry and then the word 'add'. Eventually we worked out they wanted Kerry's age. Laughing so heartily at the 26 for Kerry's age was brave or foolhardy, machine guns or not! We left next day to sail to the little town of Xcalac (pronounced Ishkalak) on the southeastern Mexican coast.

The entrance to Xcalac is through a very narrow cut in the reef, which fringes this coastline not more than 400m offshore. With an easterly pushing the swell directly onto the reef David had some difficulty in identifying the channel, but once he had, he pointed SR toward the shore. Suddenly the blue water appeared directly ahead. There was an adrenaline rush as we shot through, riding the surf with waves breaking either side, then wove in and out of the coral bombies to anchor in flat, calm, waters 60m from shore. But these calm waters are deceptive havens, booby-trapped with sand bars and coral heads.

We had intended to spend the last of our pesos in Xcalac, but were thwarted by the lack of available goods. The other strange thing was the lack of noise in the village. The dogs didn't bark, the children played quietly, people conversed in low tones and walked stealthily. Very eerie. Xcalac was the 'clearing out' point from Mexico, but the Customs Officer had GONE FISHING. David slipped our papers under the office door and we weighed anchor.

We enjoyed a gentle day sail to San Pedro, Belize, but discovered that most of the anchorages within the fringing reef became uncomfortably rolly as the tide rose. We spent the weekend at San Pedro, a dusty tourist town, and then headed down to Belize City where we had been consistently warned of the 'theft', the 'druggoes' and 'knives in the back'. We entered cautiously, lured only by the hope of mail collection, and thank God we did - it was the highlight of our Central American cruise. The people were warm and friendly, and most could converse in English as a legacy of British administration. Kerry walked through an inner city park at 6·30pm to reach the waiting bus. A quaint but frail old lady hobbled beside her with the warning, "This is the time you have to watch your back, dear." Valiantly Kerry answered, "I'll walk with you." "You're welcome," she replied protectively.

Touring inland, we paid the extra $2 for the 'Premier' bus to travel the two hours to Succotz (almost on the Western border) to visit the ancient Mayan ruins of Xiantunich (pronounced Sanantonich). As we alighted from the air-conditioned bus we were hit with the oppressive heat, but found ourselves beside a shaded river where children swam and women washed - a cooling babble of activity. We boarded the hand-operated cable ferry which takes one car at a time. Unfortunately it was in the midday sun that we began our 2·5 km ascent up the blindingly white, limestone road, bemoaning our fates at becoming Mayan mummies. However it was worth the death-defying trudge, as the ruins were fascinating and the jungle canopy made the walk between the sites cool and enjoyable. Xiantunich is one of the smaller cities but, as with the Egyptian pyramids, the architectural structures are a marvel.

Belize City is a squalid, dirty place. The old, colonial homes on the waterfront bear witness to the high social society the colonists developed, but the shacks are just that - shacks. Few have glass in their windows, and most just have hinged wooden closures. The countryside offers the same shacks, made more presentable by open space and greenery. It is difficult to imagine living in these conditions.

However, as in all third world countries, there is a strong bonding of family and community living. The slums produced the happy sounds of music, parties and street barbecues, whilst the more modern, upmarket residential streets were silent, with barred windows, huge fences and only man-eating dogs visible. The price one pays for wealth!

On the 8 March we checked out of Belize. Having decided to give Guatemala a miss due to time restrictions, Skaffies Romance headed for Lighthouse Reef to wait for favourable winds. We anchored close to Half Moon Cay, inside the lagoon and with no more than 60cm under the keel. The barrier reef along this coast is the second longest in the world, but because there is very little tide the water is crystal clear.

Having waited a couple of days, we decided to beat against the 1 knot current to our next anchorage, Vivorilla Cay, 250 miles east-southeast off the Honduras coast. The wind gradually increased to 25 knots right from ahead, so we sailed with two reefs in the main and the yankee furled at times. Progress was slow and the sailing tedious and very uncomfortable. On the third night we hove-to for a good sleep, but then had to make up the current set the next day. It took over five days to make the passage to Vivorilla Cay, during which the old mainsail gave its last rip and the new mainsail had to be bent on.

We anchored in company with an American yacht heading the other way (all the other boats were 'heading the other way' for, as we learnt, it is a hard beat the whole way down the Central American coast and the 1-2 knot current adds insult to injury), and relaxed for a couple of days. Honduran fisherman gave us a large bag of conch meat, but there must be a secret to its preparation as it took the hone from our teeth and put muscles on our jaws.

Refreshed, we set off for Panama, sailing inside the reefs off the Honduran coast. The wind was 12-15 knots from the east-southeast and we sailed close-hauled to lay our course. David had marked several places of refuge if needed, but for the 480 mile passage the weather remained fair, the nights clear and bright, the sails needed only slight adjustment, whales and sharks and migrating birds held our interest, and we even caught a dorado. Ah! The joys of cruising!

The fleet of ships anchored off Panama hove into view at dawn on 25 March. We threaded our way through them to the yacht anchorage, where at least 50 yachts crowded the waters. Some we hadn't seen for months, one or two we hadn't seen for years. Many we knew intimately from the radio schedules but had never met. But all had the common purpose of entering the Pacific Ocean through the Panama Canal. It was with much calling and arm waving that we anchored in 'the flats' to await Customs clearance.

(1530 words)