Tuesday, 1 November 2022: So Much More than Just a Coffee Tour!

Up at 5:30 again.  I know that sounds insanely early to some people but I’m awake having hit the hay at 9:30 last night.  The power is back on so I take a shower.  Damn, the water is tepid which isn’t much fun.  I get ready for hiking today but now I’ve got diarrhea again – I’d had no problems for the past three days.  So I chew two Pepto-Bismol tablets and realize I don’t have many left.  Hope these work.  At least, this time there’s no associated stomach ache so maybe I’ll be okay. 

Breakfast includes a different kind of guacamole dip.  It includes rice and corn and is very tasty.  Pedro Antonio asked me yesterday if I wanted to do a tour of a coffee farm nearby.  Sounded like it would include some hiking to waterfalls so I agreed.  As I’m finishing up breakfast, the guide for my coffee tour shows up.  He’s a young, trim, and handsome guy named Javier.  I have a really tough time understanding his Spanish.  I know my hearing sucks but the problem isn’t his volume – it’s that he speaks at about a zillion miles per hour and swallows words.  He has to repeat sentences two or three times for me to grok what he’s saying.  I do manage to communicate to Javier that I want to see waterfalls and hike some trails.  He obliges!

We make a right on to the main road which we follow for maybe 150 meters, then turn left at another road.  It’s a steep climb up this concrete road for maybe ½ mile.  Then we turn left on to a marked trail which steeply descends through the forest and quickly becomes muddy as a result of last night’s rain.  As we drop toward a deep canyon, the trail gets steeper and steeper and the surface changes from mud to wet moss-covered limestone.  It’s good I have a walking stick!  After 15 minutes of struggling to stay upright, we near the bottom of the canyon.  Now I see the attraction.  The little river (El Colín, the same one which flows past Ranch Bee Hole) has cut into the limestone bedrock and formed short caves which are open at either end.  It’s a dark, eerie, special place.  A bit challenging for photography but I manage to get a few good shots, I hope.  We go back the way we came; a steep climb but going up the muddy trail is easier than going down as is usually the case. 

When we get back to the road, we make a left and drop down to a bridge crossing a stream, then follow a path for less than a ¼ mile to the finca (farm).  I am welcomed there by Juan who offers me a glass of fruit juice.  Javier grabs a basket and I assume we’re going to collect coffee beans but he drops the basket near some coffee bushes and leads me down another trail.  It’s steep, muddy, and involves making my way down treacherous rocks near the bottom.  The steam is a tributary of El Colín called La Posa de Amarillo.  Another dark, forested setting with a small waterfall, cave, and natural pool. 

We get back up to the farm, called “Ecolonia” and described in an information sheet in English as “an agro-ecological project” based on coffee and tourist excursions.  They also grow different fruits and vegetables, some for sale.  The coffee is arábica, which Juan tells me is favored by the Japanese.  They sell the raw beans to the Cuban government and packaged, cleaned beans to tourists for 3500 pesos per kilo (about $10 per pound).

Javier isn’t done with me (probably figures I need to get plenty of exercise to earn my lunch).  We walk on another trail from the back of the finca.  It slippery but not as steep as the other two.  I let my guard down and fall on my ass lightly banging my lower backbone – nothing serious.  We continue another ¼ mile or so to a little waterfall and spring.  All is very lovely.

I had told Juan that I’m a vegetarian, so when we get back to the finca, he has fixed a delicious soup with round beans resembling little garbanzos.  Fortunately, my stomach is almost back to normal.  There are also crunchy plantains; rice, hard boiled eggs, and avocado.  A great lunch considering there is no power out here and no refrigerator, only an old wood-burning stove. 

 

After lunch, I pull out my wallet to pay them figuring we’re done.  Oh, don’t you want to see how coffee is produced?  Sure.  Javier doesn’t use the beans we gathered after returning from the second canyon.  Instead he picks up a tray that has been drying in the sun.  First he pounds the beans (a few handfuls) in a big mortar to loosen the hulls.  Then he sifts and sifts as if panning for gold in order to get rid of the loosened hulls.  Next, he puts the beans in a pot on the wood stove and stirs them constantly like a Chinese stir fry.  After five minutes, they are almost burned (I guess this is “roasting”).  Then he throws the blackened beans into the mortar and pounds them some more.  Presto – ground coffee.  He puts the coffee in a filter, then pours hot water from the stove through it.  Bingo – a fresh cup of coffee.  I’m not a coffee drinker but try a small cup.  It’s very strong, almost like expresso.  I add a bit of sugar which make the brew more to my liking.  It’s the freshest cup of coffee I’ll ever have!

Javier offers me an open, plastic bag of coffee beans.  I tell him that, unfortunately, it won’t make it through US Customs.  It’s the stupid US sanctions, I add.  I might have a better chance with a sealed package but without a label, the US border dicks will accuse me of bringing in government coffee and confiscate it.  I am travelling in Cuba “in support of the Cuban people” in accordance with U.S. Department of Treasury regulations.  So how in hell can I support them if I can’t bring their products home?  By the way, a pre-trip query through the Treasury Department’s website regarding import of cigars, etc. got me nothing but double-speak.  It pisses me off because these coffee beans would make great gifts back home but getting them confiscated at the border would make me catatonically livid and I don’t want to take a chance.

Coffee production by hand.  Clockwise from upper left:  Sifting the dried beans to get rid of the debris; pounding the beans with a large pestle to separate the shells; roasting the beans over a hot fire; the roasted beans prior to being ground in the mortar; the ground beans are placed in a filter and hot water is poured over them; a cup of very strong coffee.   

Juan tells me I can get cold bottled water 1 km up the main road from the first turn off.  I thank Javier and Juan for a most interesting day and let them know I can find my way back without one of them needing to escort me. When I get back down to the main road, I turn left and head up and up.  The road is very steep, the sun is hot, and it sure feels like more than 1km when I reach the national park information center.  There is a little café on the lower level which has ice cold bottled water.  Mmmm! 

I walk upstairs to the park information center to find out about hikes to their two highly-recommended waterfalls.  They have no trail map – neither one I can take with me nor a detailed wall map in their displays about the local ecology.  I talk to two employees.  They’re not many guides available and most of them are connected with the big government tourist hotels nearby.  But, I won’t need a guide to either of the falls as the trails are clearly marked.  The primo waterfall is the Salto Carabí.  The trail starts about 100 meters from here and is 3.5 km long.  It’s a steep descent, then a steep ascent to return.

 

I find out there is one very big problem.  You need a ticket to hike the park trails and YOU CAN ONLY PAY THE $10 OR €10 CHARGE WITH A CREDIT CARD!  Jesus H. Fucking Christ!!!  I tell them I am an American (obviously they don’t get many) and my credit cards don’t work in Cuba.  Look, I’ve got efectivo (cash), either pesos or dollars.  The guy I speak with is sympathetic.  He speaks with a woman.  Then he says come back tomorrow and they will speak with their boss.  I figure that will work.  I mean, usually in developing countries there is always a way around this sort of red tape if you can get the ear of a sympathetic employee.

I head back down to Rancho Bee Hole.  Based on my pace it’s 1.5 miles from the information center.  And it’s a much nicer walk downhill with a cold bottle of water.

As I finish writing this, the time is 5:45PM.  A refreshing, gentle rain is falling.  It’s starting to get dark and the power is off again.  Hopefully, I have enough electrons in my camera battery for tomorrow.  As for my cell phone out here in the boonies, it doesn’t much matter as there’s no wifi and I’m getting no texts from home.  I assume that any texts I’ve sent are stuck somewhere out in la la land for now. 

© Will Mahoney 2022

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