We were up at around 8:00am and we met our guide, for around 20 CUC we would be subjected to 14 Kim’s of undulating Cuban countryside, a tobacco farmer, a cave and hopefully no hills. We set off with our guide, who’s real name we forget. Tanya and I are at odds as to whether or not he will be called Johnny or Max.We walked through the small, picturesque and ye verily even romantic town of Vinales along paved roads, that soon turned to red hard packed dust. Soon we were in the countryside proper where there were no cars, but plenty of guys on horseback, guys riding bullock drays, guys on bicycles, dogs, pigs, cows and numerous other bovines. Needless to say we were also seeing a lot of well…..poo. Like the vintage champagne smashing across the bow of a newly floated ship, I had soon fallen into the mud. For those of you who have had the pleasure of trekking with moi you will know this practice dates back to Scouts and the overland track in Tasmania in 1991 (eek!), and has been continued in Africa, Vietnam, other parts of Asia, the Grampians and now Cuba. Now that you have heard the spiel, allow me to set the scene. The whole road was covered in a pretty deep brown puddle, we could tell it had been there a while as it was covered in a translucent green scum, think back a few sentences ago the amount of livestock around, the poo and oh, did I mention the heat and the humidity, both were in full effect. The only way around said puddle was to walk up an embankment that was about 1 poofteenth wide, in fact it was so narrow that you had to hang onto a barbed wire fence and some bushes. First the guide goes and makes it easy, then tans…..also easy, then me laden down with 2 litres of water and the camera gear, in a bit of a panic not about falling, but the water-proof integrity of our daypack (none) and the many thousands of dollars worth of camera contained inside. Push came to shove and off I slipped, managed to recover (admirably I thought) however 1 boot was a casualty, in fact it was no longer the brand new colour of grey and black, but a brilliant muddy red.
We pushed on to the Tobacco Finca going past horses which are literally the only form of transport out here and arrived at Ernesto’s farmhouse. Again I am taking a few liberties here, as I use the term farmhouse loosely. Yes we were on a farm and this was the “house” where the family lived, but let me run you through it. It was a two roomed dwelling made from wood, with numerous gaps that the wind could whistle through on cold nights. The floor was hard packed earth and the roof was rusty tin. Both rooms were separated by an outdoor vestibule. One room contained the fire and was the kitchen, it also contained quite a few chooks. The second room was the bedroom for parents and children, this room also contained lots of chooks and a few roosters. Two kittens lived in the vestibule, one took quite a liking to tan and Ernesto the farmer spent the remainder of the time between chores trying to give it away to us.
We joined the family for a simple lunch of lady finger bananas, coconut juice (straight from the nut), pomelo and freshly roasted and ground coffee. This was served on two plates, which were probably the only two plates the family owned. The coffee once roasted was ground on a very dirty old wooden table with an empty rum bottle. I would bet money that when the family was out tending the fields, the chooks and cats would probably perch on the table. Whilst the wife was making the coffee, the farmer made me some fresh hand rolled cigars, also on the dirty table. At around 10am there we all were, in the middle of nowhere Cuba, smoking hand rolled cigars and drinking fresh “organic” coffee. This experience had made all those shots at the doctors worthwhile.
We left the farmer, walking through fields of tobacco, malanga (a sweet potato like vegetable), bananas, plantains, black beans and numerous other crops and arrived at the caves. Remember there was still red mud everywhere. Eventually we arrived at the caves, I don’t know what they were called but we have christened them Cuevo del Dengue due to the absolute shitload of mosquitos living at their mouth. Luckily we had our RID (bug spray), offered some to the guide, but in his words “it is only for tourists”, which if I were to translate that to the Australian English “It’s only for sheila’s mate”, oh well, thankfully there is no malaria in Cuba…….shitloads of dengue fever though 
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We entered the cave with some fluoro torches, the likes of which would not even be sold at K-mart they are so old and crappy. Murphy struck and once we were in the completely cave dark, no hand in front of your face darkness area, one light kept crapping out. The poor old mini mag-lite we had was no match for the inky blackness. There was a pool at the end of the cave you could swim in, but we gave it a miss as I was having loads of trouble navigating the cave, remember this is Cuba i.e. no handrails, your own safety is your own responsibility, stepping in a large potentially bottomless sinkhole would not have been the way I’d pictured ending my holiday in Cuba, if you catch my drift.
After exiting the cave we turned around and walked the same way back, which was a bit disappointing, but it was amazing looking country. We finally arrived back into town and took Johnny / max to the bar for a beer. Got home and attempted to start cleaning the boots, when they were snatched from my hands by Candido, he wanted to clean them, we sat outside and I practiced my Spanish with him while he cleaned. He would not take no for an answer………and for those of you that are wondering the boot cleaning was gratis (free).
