Chapter 85

La Fé, in Pinar del Rio, Bahía de Guadiana, close to the Guanahacabibes peninsula and its national park, it is one of the westernmost places in Cuba, 62 miles from the lighthouse at Punta de San Antonio, the island's western end.

The Bay of Guadiana is long and the town is ... at the foot ... if the sea is the head. Roads start and end at La Fé, perhaps its only claim to fame. The marines left the boat offshore of La Fé. Grace and I had no idea. We were both on deck and never saw them leave. They left a simple note.

'Don't forget. Four days, Punta de San Antonio. Under sail. Don't stop.'

We sailed in close to La Fé, intending to pump and fuel but we were directed to a marina at the mouth of the bay. The ... marina? ... we didn't stop.

The boats came out of a small bay in far western Cuba close to ... the ... marina, probably 40 kilometers west and north of La Fe. Cuba had no military presence that far west ... the Army was fighting Castro in the south.

Big, powerful, Cuban Navy Auxiliary launches armed with a 20mm foredeck rapid-fire cannon, two .50 cal Brownings in dual mounts were beside the conning station. At the very stern, there was a 40mm Bofors. They looked very like WW2 Elco Patrol Torpedo boats.

But Cuba only had two, presented to Batista by the CIA, and they were in Havana Harbor ... had been for several years. They didn't run. Such is the way of gifts from the CIA.

On the lead boat, there was an English speaker ... of sorts. A shot fired in front of our bow and the bullhorn announced that they wished ... demanded our boat in payment for trespassing and fishing in their so sacred waters. If we cooperated we might live, otherwise we would die ... so sad.

The young lady would enjoy herself ... or rather, they would enjoy the young lady. All in garbled English with commonly known Spanish words and phrases thrown for good measure. There was a lot of laughter and leering ... and all four boats blew up.

A shock, I do admit it. It woke the cats.

We had to sail within a few feet of horribly wounded and dismembered crewmen ... still alive and calling on the mother of god to save them ... then the sharks came and the sharks began to feed.

'Don't stop.'

Ok ... we won't.

Four days ... what the hell are we going to do for four days?

Chase containers.

The New York shipping industry had been using 33 foot containers for a year, and only lost a couple. The one we played with was probably from from a bridge collapse in Louisiana where the locomotive and half the train made it across before the collapse. A rapidly moving flash flood swept several cars of containerized freight out to sea.

The one we found must have been packed to the very roof with balsa because there was a good three feet of container out of the water. It seemed to be going our way ... we nearly hitch hiked with it. Eventually, it grounded out on a shoal ... we turned away and missed grounding out ourselves.

Before it was out of sight, several rowboats rowed out with a long rope, tied off and rowed back to shore. A big tractor was tied off and started backing up. We made one more circle and saw the big box dragged up the beach.