We’d planned on getting up early and photographing the sunrise, but to be honest I just couldn’t. I might be getting old, but there was just no way I could get my sorry and tired arse out of bed by 5:30am. At 6:30 we did manage to climb out onto our private balcony and started clicking the shutters on our sexy Fujifilm X-T2 cameras in the hopes of capturing a little of the morning’s magic.

By 7:00am we were walking down the side road close to our casa particular to join the rest of the city (its more like a town) and the thousands of other occupants of the surrounding villages that had been bused into Baracoa. We headed along the Av Los Martires – known just as the Malecon (which is the long road and walkway along the ocean front) to join in and experience the Dia de lo Trabajadores (International workers day). Thousands of people lined the Malecon, with most wearing a bright red shirt and waving placards with their affiliation/work/office group titles, the Cuban flag and photos of Fidel, Raul and Che.

The steady walk began at around 7:30 and entered Baracoa heading towards the main plaza de revolution that is on the most northerly part of town at the Fuerte de la Punta, an old Spanish fort that has been on the north-western part of town since 1803

A large stage had been erected, littered with giant speakers that blasted out “viva la Cuba!” “Viva la revolution!” “Viva Fidel!” “Viva Che!” – by now the marching throng of thousands took up the chant- adding in their own ‘viva la Cuba’ as they punched the air with their fists. A few additional Viva Venezuela got thrown in for good measure to add to the international flavour!

After an hours long list of thank-you’s and presentations on stage, the mood turned more ‘fiesta’ with the congratulated thousands buying bags of deep-fried pork skin and freshly popped popcorn to munch on with their cans of beer and sodas. With their duty and solidarity preformed, hundreds milled back to their waiting coaches, buses and trucks before starting another working day.

In the main plaza, those that could partied on to enthusiastic pumping Cuban rhythms.

Doing our best to stay clear of the now hot and beating sun, we dodged and weaved with the other pedestrians as we dove in and out of the shadows for respite, before reaching Denny’s (our casa) for our 9am appointment for breakfast on the balcony!

With German-like precision, Denny appeared with coffee and breakfast and served us with his usual warm smile.

By mid-day we were once again on-foot and walking the 384 steps to the top of the hill to the El Casitllo. El Castillo de Seboruco is Baracoa’s highest fort, built by the Spanish in 1739 but now is a renovated hotel with a gleaming pool as its centrepiece. The views from the fortress walls are uninterrupted and spectacular. After the hot walk up, we stopped for a good strong coffee and water before clambering back into town. Our first stop was the Casa del Cacao; a museum with the history of Chocolate, which also serves pure thick cups of chocolate! We supped on cold cups of the most delicious chocolate we’ve ever had (Simon had his with rum of course!) Baracoa is the centre of Cubas chocolate industry as cacao is grown locally. When we were in Havana we also visited the Museum of Chocolate and were told that the cacao plantations were badly hit by hurricane Matthew back in Oct 2016 and only now just recovering, hence them not having chocolate bars for sale. Here in Baracoa, they had a small selection of bars and of course we just had to buy some- for $1 a bar, we wished we could carry a stock along with us on our bikes!

The heat and very high humidity, was now getting to us both and so we once again staggered back to our casa for the much needed cool breeze on our 3rd floor balcony.

As afternoon turned to evening, I explained with a wry smile that I wanted somewhere the locals would go with great flavour, good food and a low price and without a second of hesitation Denny directed us 4 blocks down to the Malecon and 3 blocks right and to the Marco Polo restaurant. The brightly lit second floor restaurant seemed oddly out of place, squashed between two unpainted concrete shells, but inside the welcome and delicious smelling food seemed prefect. Choosing the corner window table we sat down, sipped on two mojitos and enjoyed the cool breeze moving in from the sea. Down below the clip-clopping of horse-drawn buggies taking clients to different parts of the city continued for 2 hours uninterrupted. The lobster cocktail was a delicious surprise but Lisa’s grilled aguja (swordfish) was even better. I’d chosen aguja con lechita (swordfish cooked in a coconut sauce). The sauce is a mixture of coconut milk, tomato sauce, garlic and a medley of spices. This delicious and exotic combination cost us $6 each including drinks: a perfect way to end our day.

We were up this morning at 5:00am and clicking MX boots clasp closed and pulling on our still salty and crispy riding gear. Today was just about ditching the panniers, tank bags, and other gear and just riding the bikes to somewhere new. Let’s face it, it’s just too easy to forget how much fun riding a bike can be, if you’re loaded down and basically just moving house every day on two wheels.

Downstairs by 5:30am and Dennis was true to his word and waiting to unlock his small garage where we’d parked both bikes. The two strong sweet black coffee’s he offered us was a welcome treat. I know I’ve mentioned it before but the coffee in Cuba is fucking legendary.

Just outside Baracoa we took the left hand fork in the road to the village of Jamal. The sun was still coming up as we headed north of Jamal and into the mountains.

The small, sweeping mountain road tried keenly to keep our attention, in truth, we’d already given it up to the stunning views across to our right. The early morning sun was now cresting the tallest jungle covered peaks and casting fingers of light into the deep valleys. Down below a dozen small streams warmed and casted morning mist into the air and above the palm heavy tree line, where it hung like smoke.

I’d spent the first part of the morning spinning my head from left to right just looking for somewhere to pull safely off the road in order to get a photo of what I’m trying to describe. I failed miserably. Small huts and homes litter the hillside and high mud and grass mounds line the road, making pulling off tough.

At the top of the mountain we started our roller coaster descent to the stunning bay of Bahia de Mata, a wide curvaceous bay with blue water and small harboured fishing boats.

I bounced off the concrete-slabbed road and onto a sandy dirt track and down to check out Playa Manglito, that Dennis had described as his favourite local beach. The gently sloping palm tree beach looked inviting, but I wanted to reach Boca de Yamuri. Lisa had waited back on the road and I quickly found 2nd gear and sped past her as she pulled away.

Just outside the tiny fishing village of Boca de Yamuri, we skipped from the road and onto the single-track sandy path that led down to the sea. We had no idea how far it would go, but without our heavy bags, we could easily find out. The stony track turned to coarse sand after a few metres and then levelled out. To our left the incoming tide pushed waves against the rocky shoreline. Just a few feet to our right locals popped their heads to inspect the strange hum caused by our performance-based engines.

Outside the last single roomed building on the track, we quickly parked up and took in the salty view. Over our shoulders, a smiling local asked gently in Spanish if we’d like coffee. We’ve learnt to never turn down coffee. Outside, two tired and weather worn tables were enthusiastically wiped down and two small cups and plates were laid. I thought about confirming that we’d only ordered coffee, but thought, what the hell. We had not eaten breakfast and whatever was being prepared was likely going to be delicious and absurdly inexpensive. Five minutes later and two portions of omelette mixed with finely chopped green peppers and garlic were laid on the table. The freshly fried banana, crusted in salt looked and tasted incredible.

We laughed and joked with the half-dozen fisherman that had lines up to inspect the bikes as we moved the bikes into position to snatch a photo or three. Back on the bikes and the small track opened up a little wider before bending right and into the mouth of the river. In 2nd gear the spiked bounced and the rear wheels spat out stones as we climbed the rough track to find the road.

Over the battered bridge and we swung hard right before joining what looked like new road, which climbed steeply, before turning into the mountains. Half a mile later and we were up on the pegs and leaning over the front of the bikes in the hopes of keeping the front wheels on the ground. We’ve not ridden any road this steep since our ride in Thailand along the Burmese border. At the top we posed for photos and spent 30-minutes just absorbing one of the most spectacular views we’ve enjoyed in a while.

In the distance, the flat topped El Yunque squared off to it’s tallest pointy-peaked neighbour. Down below, a sea of emerald green palm forest stretched into the horizon. Above dark storm clouds loomed but pasted by without drenching us.

We’d taken our time, explored small single track dirt roads and flirted with sandy beach but 5 hours into our ride and we were roasting in the beating sun.

Back in Baracoa we headed for the Case Del Cacao (house of Chocolate) and parked up outside, before heading inside for two cups of thick cold chocolate drink mixed with rum.

Back at Denny’s Casa de Particular and gulped down a litre of water each and laid in the air-conditioned room for 30 minutes before heading gout to the small centre of town supermarket. We’ll eat at the house tonight and scan through todays photos.

Just as we were about ready to sit down and eat, the storm that had been threatening for the whole day, finally arrived. Denny told us that usually the micro-climate here in Baracoa means that it rains most days at some point or another but that they had had no rain for the last 20 days. The build up of heat and humidity had even begun to drain the locals. Now, at last the storm was here and it was a great one! The rain was incredibly heavy and bouncing off the streets. The effect was immediate- it was cool and fresh. With both fork and sheet lightening bouncing all around, we enjoyed our meal (great food here in the Casa) before finally having to head inside. We left the door to our room open, made sure all of our electrical equipment was unplugged and began to take photos.