A failing fuel pump, and/or Blondy not liking the air temps means a change in plans for me. I know that there is a new fuel pump in Mexico City, so I will ride to the nearest BMW dealer,which is in Culican. That means having to ride the Devils' Backbone between Durango and Mazatlan. Maybe dropping down to the coast may cool things down enough so that I get fuel efficiently. My friend Anton, who is riding in Africa, has gone through 3 fuel pumps on this model bike. What the hell!
That is mostly good news, I guess. I am in a much better position to find a new pump than being in the highlands of Africa, so I am not whining. The real bad news is that I think I left my diary of Cuba in the hotel room, so there goes my chance at fame and fortune in writing a ride report for ADV rider forum. I was so looking forward to bragging about being one of the very few riders to have shipped into and out of Cuba successfully. I guess I won't be winning any travel writers' award, but at least I can count on my 16 loyal followers to at least look at the pictures of Cuba and get a sense of that great country. We must recognize that with another birthday under my belt, the memory stick is failing rather rapidly. I had a panic attack the other day in the BMW shop in DF when I went to pay the bill. I could not for the life of me remember my pin number. In hindsight, I was in sticker shock after looking at the total bill, which of course was in pesos...I could have bought a new bike for that amount. Fortunately, after a coffee and a wander around my mind, I tried the credit card for the third time, and was successful. So be warned, the comments and pics are going to be from the kaleidoscope of my mind, and could very well not be the definitive record of the 20 or more days on the island....
I left off with Hautey making the supreme choice, and deciding to not live with the Christians...
Lots of propaganda and slogans throughout the Island: reminders of the ongoing struggle...
We visited a cafe devoted to Chocolate, and I mean the real thing: Cocao
The neighbourhood came out to wish us beaun viage....
The gringos are leaving....
Hmn...a little bit warm here in Cuba..
We soon had the flat fixed. After what turned out to be the roughest road of all of Cuba, we came upon a town close to the beaches, where we wanted to camp. We ran into an ex pat British Coal miner who lived there, and he gave us some good directions in order to get to the beach, which was called Port Royal, I think. (My riding mates will correct me, or not.)
These two beauties were just cruising around town...
We found the beach about 25 miles down a winding track. A recent cyclone had devasted the houses. There were very few folks about..
This fellow was fishing with a small throw net....
We had a small crossing to contend with....
Blondy made it through, with lots of help...
We rode up the beach and met a single fisherman. We asked him if we could set up our tents
I sent up my tent in front of one of the few remaining houses still standing....
Lots of interesting coral washed up on the beach....
We had a nice campfire....
We found an alternate route back to town, avoiding the sand....
A couple of car shots...
This guy was bound and determined to sell his carving....
"Psst: I will give you a cracker if you get me out of this dumb cage..."
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