Baracoa 3

In the morning, I went over to J's casa to meet her and the Australian girls, and find out what the planned outing was about. It seemed that the 4 of us could hire a taxi and a guide to climb El Yunque, a low hill and national monument about 10km outside Baracoa. I needed bottled water. The cafeteria was too expensive and there was a queue at the tienda (shop). Fortunately J's landlady came to the rescue, giving me a bottle out of their fridge. Bless her. I gave them a Rubik's Cube keyring in gratitude. It was probably a cruel present, because on my return in the evening, the family begged me to twiddle it back to its Garden of Eden state, which I didn't know how to do.

At the provincial office we bought a park permit for $25, then set off in the taxi to the campismo (campground) at the foot of El Yunque. First we had to wade across a river. I regretted wearing jeans and sneakers instead of shorts and boots. Well I didn't have boots anyway, but my jeans got soaked to the knees. At least I had cossies underneath.

It was a tiring hike uphill through the sub-tropical vegetation, but punctuated by frequent explications of plants and animals by the guide, who worked as a park ranger and researcher. The picture on the right is of a cacao tree. According to him, quite a few foreign researchers came to study the fauna of the Baracoa area. I asked if he could have a chance for an overseas scientific exchange. He said it would require a grant from a foreign government. As expected due the economic situation of Cuba.

The millipede in the picture prompted the ranger to tell us a joke. A rakish rabbit is trying to flatter a lady millipede walking past. He says: What beautiful legs you have, what beautiful legs you have, what beautiful legs you have...

We reached the peak in 3 hours. The view from the top of the coast and Bay of Baracoa was indeed wonderful, if a little hazy. There wasn't much room at the peak. There would have been even less if the hill did not have a table top. (Yunque means anvil.) We each ate our own packed lunch there. I had some müsli.

These palms had a shape that I had never seen before and not since. All too soon it was time to go down. It was less tiring, but on the other hand I had to rely a lot on trunks, branches and roots for handholds as the path was slippery with mud in many places. J did not have well-fitting shoes and eventually the pain got to her. She broke down in tears and could not take another step. We paused to let her rest. One of us carried her daypack and the ranger lent her his shoes, walking barefoot himself. Tough man.

These are a couple of cacao pods. The ranger opened up one to show us the beans inside surrounded by sour flesh.

I was glad of the chance to wash the mud off my sneakers on the return crossing even if they got thoroughly soaked. A bit further downstream, the ranger showed us a place where we could have a dip, which the girls did. On return to Baracoa, we all gladly chipped in to give the ranger a few dollars more than his asking price for such friendly and helpful service.


That evening the 4 of us attended a floor show at La Teraza, a show venue in Baracoa. It was like a much smaller and cheaper version of Tropicana. They played some familiar boleros. I think the girls were disappointed; they were expecting something more modern.


According the girls, a contact would make discreet enquiries about a private taxi to Holguin via the Moa coastal road. (Private taxis are illegal in Cuba, since everything belongs to the state.) I was still harbouring ideas of visiting Santiago on the way back but from J's description I decided to give that up.