down.)
So much to remember. Hector rat-
tled alarmingly on the unmaintained
roads. Chris was the first to recog-
nise that his machine was not of the
best quality. It’s a Chinese copy of a
Ural which is itself a Russian copy of
a R75 WW2 German BMW from 1939.
There were plenty of Urals about,
brought by the Russians when they
were supporting Fidel’s communist
regime. Unfortunately, the Chinese
‘improvements’ meant that hardly
any Ural parts fitted, hence my wel-
come arrival with spares. There was
only one Chang Jiang and it aroused a
great deal of interest.
“Es una Ural?”, we were often
asked.
“No es una Ural, es copia de China”
became our mantra.
We rode about 200kms from Ha-
vana through rich agricultural land
where sugar cane wafted in the warm
wind.
The roads were hard work but
somehow we arrived at the town
nearest to the ferry. Batabano was a
one-horse town if ever there was one.
Where the homes weren’t old Spanish
edifices, they were of a communist,
square, functional design and faced
directly onto the road. People sat
outside. Groups of men sat at tables
TRAVERSE 64
playing dominoes if they weren’t at
the bar, which is where we went to
meet the locals and glean information
about the ferry. This was not an easy
task. Neither Chris nor I had good
Spanish but we found a money-chang-
er at the bar who tried to help us.
“Yes, every day ferry. Ask at port.”
Someone knew someone who
had a casa particular, (like a B&B),
and took us there. It was basic but
comfortable. We agreed to the price
of 25CUC plus another 10CUC for
Hector’s overnight garaging in a
compound with a pig-sty. We went
to the port and talked to the guard at
the gate who advised us to be there