The Stahlratte’s engine chugged to life at 11:30am, and by 12:00pm we were slowly moving out to sea. Ludwig had wanted to sail a day early because of a storm front that was moving in from the north.

Out of the protection of the harbour and the Stahlratte was already rolling as the crew yelled instructions to one another in German, yanked ropes and hoisted the seven giant sails of this incredible vessel. A loud crack in the air was audible over the noise of the wind as each sail, filled, billowed and caught the wind. An hour later and we were really moving.

I’d left Lisa on her bunk feeling sea sick and headed to the top deck in the hopes that the wind and noise would distract me from the waves of nausea that were now hitting me.

“Yah, now we’re really moving! We’ll make good time,” yelled Ludwig.

“Is this fast?” I’d asked naively. “Yah, this is racing speed. The fastest this ship has ever sailed is 12.6 knots. Right now we’re at 11.2 knots.” The grin on Ludwig’s face confirmed he was in his element.

Down below, Paul had walked out on the lower deck and promptly hurled over the side of the ship and a huge waived crashed over the side and drowned him.

As the hours rolled by, literally, the sea became rougher the wind blew stronger. Minute by minute the sky became darker and the horizon harder to make out. I swear to God, staring at the horizon had been the only reason I’d managed not to vomit so far. As night closed in, I knew I’d lost the battle, and was about to say ‘hello’ to whatever was still sloshing around in my stomach.

I scrambled to make the nine metal steps to the lower deck and to the side of the ship. In the darkness, Lisa bumped past me, as she headed to the top. I managed to get the side as a let out an almighty “Blahhhhh” as I hurled. The ship was now listing hard to the starboard (the right) and dipping impressively low in the water, pushed along by the wind in the sails. I then hurled again and again and, OK you get the idea. I crouched, cried and dry wretched for the next two hours.

Lisa’s story.

Ludwig had warned us that we may hit some bad weather, which is why he wanted to leave a day earlier than planned. I was, however, still apprehensive. I always feel sea sick even in the most calm of seas! I had taken sea sickness tablets and hoped for the best.

As we left harbour and the protection of land the seas became a little rougher and I began to feel a bit queasy. This was, I later found out, nothing! The ship began to, not only go up and down from front to back (yeah yeah I know there’s proper shipping terms) but also side to side- so it was kinda doing a figure of eight movement whilst plunging and lifting at the same time. ARGH! Heading downstairs I was thrown from side to side having to grab onto what I could to try to steady myself. After a massive effort I dashed for our bunk and lay down as fast as I could. Ludwig had recommended that lying down here was maybe best as the movement was less down here. I immediately felt better and managed to sleep on and off for a couple of hours, whilst trying to stop myself from tipping out of our double bunk.

It had just turned dark and the storm had become even worse. Karl and Paul (trainees) had donned their warmer gear and were up on deck keeping watch. Paul (RTW) was also on the top deck lying down trying to not throw up whilst watching the horizon (which was difficult as it kept disappearing). Egle was fine! Simon was struggling but hadn’t yet thrown up.

Suddenly I had to move fast. The vomit was coming and even though I tried hard by covering my mouth with my hand to try to force it to stay in- it wanted out! I clambered up the step steps and managed to get to the open door and almost reached the side before…too late! I had vomited all over one of the seats and missed the edge by a couple of feet. I didn’t care as it kept coming. Had I eaten that much? Why is there always more vomit than you have eaten in the last week!? Egle came to help and as I was struggling to clean up and offered to do it for me! Wonderful girl! It was all I could do to blurt out thank you before having to run again- this time I managed to do it over the side.

With the seas becoming rougher by the minute I got worse and worse and also frightened. Id never been in seas like this before. If I hadn’t have been feeling so bad it would have made for a great recording. The boat was dipping deep on one side as it lurched and twisted- it was the side my bike was! I saw my tarp covered and strapped bike get covered with crashing waves as they came over the side. Thank God these guys know what they are doing when it comes to lashing and covering bikes and keeping them safe!

I now decided to head up to the top deck as even though the movement was accentuated, I was in the open. Sitting on the deck ( I couldn’t manage to get any further) I vomited again but this time on the wrong side of the boat and it all came back at me! Funny now looking back but at the time I didn’t care.

I remained up there for a couple of hours before finally, succumbing to the chill as I was wet with waves and vomit I lurched back down to the bunk. I hadn’t thought where Simon had been during this time, but there he was, passed out in bed looking green. I was sorry but also not! At least it wasn’t only me!

During the night even the young crew, Karl and Paul, admitted that this had been a very rough night and even they had thrown up. Ludwig and Anna seemed totally unperturbed and just said it was a little rough but not much!

Sleeping as much as we could we both lay like dead things. Neither of us wanted food or fluid. Yeah, we know fluids are needed!

My eyes peeled open at 5:00am. I’d somehow slept with my back against the hull of the ship and my feet pressed against the lower partition wall the separates us and the next set of bunks. The Stahlratte can sleep thirty guests and has four double bunks, we’d chosen the double bunk closest to the steps that lead up into the kitchen and to the lower deck.

Lisa had been as sick as a dog last night and had collapsed exhausted in the bunk. I lifted my head off the pillow and slowly crawled over her, reaching for the floor with my foot. Up on deck, the sun was still below the sea horizon but painting the sky a subtle orange. The sea had calmed substantially but, last nights brutal and relentless roller-coaster ride had left it’s mark and my body, and head were still reeling. The seven sails of the ship, billowed in the wind, each one full and taught.

Looking around worn metal deck and the collection of one hundred dangling ropes, I’m transported back to simpler time. Above my head the huge seven sails push the ship forward.

A wave of nausea launched from my head to my stomach and grabs me, instantly breaking my romantic moment.

“hold it down, hold it together, don’t hurl, it’s too early” I murmured to myself as I grasped the table, scanned the horizon and curled my toes.

Today the sea’s have been kinder, and we’d hung out with Egle and Paul for most of the day, in between diving below to lay on our bunks to fight the nausea.

I’d been offered breakfast, lunch and dinner, but had refused the lot. The very idea of food made me feel worse. To Lisa’s delight she was actually doing better and certainly better than me. Hopefully I’ll do better tomorrow?

Lisa's story:

Wow – Simon was still unable to hold anything down but today I had managed a little water, dry bread and rice. Strangely that had all helped. I was rather chuffed with myself. The rest of my day was sitting on deck feeling exhausted or dozing in our bunk. I was unable to read or do anything of any use.

“Dolphins, dolphins”, yelled Carl from the deck, through the lifted and raised ceiling panel. Everyone else aboard was already up and peering over the side as I reach the deck.

I’d battled to even to pull out my camera and clamber upstairs. At the bow of the ship, I pushed my hip into a nest of rope for balance and hung out of the side of the ship as a pod of dolphins launched from the face of a wave.

Scrambling with the camera buttons, I found the video function, clicked the lens into manual focus and pointed the X-T2 at the water. The next twenty minutes were incredible as the largest pod of dolphins any of us has ever seen swam and played in the ships bow wake.

At 1:00pm, Ludwig chugged the engine to life, pushed the ship into the wind and had changed course.

“We’ll be in port by 7:00pm,” he’d stated confidently. Today the sea’s had calmed and by 6:30pm I was feeling well for the first time.

We’d spotted Cuba in the distance by 4:00pm and the once grey silhouette of it’s mountains was now close enough to touch. Inside the long estuary, the waters were mill-pond still. Kids on the banks waived and cheered as our ship cruised past. To our left the sun was slowly setting. We couldn’t have asked for a more picturesque introduction to Cuba.

As Ludwig skillfully maneuvered the ship toward the pier, Lisa slipped her arms around my waist. “We’re actually here, country 79” she whispered.

At 9:00pm the port doctors had climbed on-board, in his white pressed jacket to confirm that no one had a fever, felt ill or was in any way contagious. Crammed into the small kitchen area, we each, in turn, had our temperatures taken with what looked like a Star-Trek communicator. The small device was lifted to our foreheads, painted them in a bright blue light and then gave a reading. Lisa was quite impressed and had never seen one of these before.

With official business done, the doctor gave Ludwig a warm hug as an old friend and headed outside with a cold beer in hand.

An hour later and immigration has been on-board and 5 of the friendliest customs agents I’ve ever met had swept the boat with a sniffer dog for drugs and were now sipping on more cold beer with Ludwig at the back of the boat. I’d taken the loud laughter to mean that we’d all passed the inspection with flying colours.

We’ll sleep tonight on board and unload the bikes in the morning.

Hello Cuba!

On the long smooth wooden table on the upper deck, breakfast had already been laid out in spectacular fashion, as I curled my leg over the bench and found a space next to Lisa.

I scanned the table for an empty coffee cup amongst the bowls of scrambled eggs, plates of cold meats and cheeses and two huge bowls of fresh chopped fruits that lay scattered across the table.

A quick scan of the faces confirmed the buzz of excitement that I could feel building in the group.

Across the way, a dozen boats and yachts bobbed in the water, each one tugging at its moorings. An hour later and we began pulling back the salty tarpaulins wrapping the bikes. With the rope harnesses still in place, we wheeled each bike to the dock side of the ship, attached the winch and hoisted each one up and over the side to the waiting pier. At the far end of the pier a pierce whistle was our cue to roll each bike to the Aduanna (customs) offices, where we began the paperwork to temporarily import each bike. Inside the small Aduanna office we took turns filling out a simple form, which was then copied six times, by hand, and handed over along with 10 CUC ($10) per bike. With the paper work done for each bike, we followed the youngest officer outside to photograph each bike and make a note of the VIN number.

Lisa and I smiled as the male officials swaggered around in their khaki uniforms, while the female officers adjusted their fishnet stockings, which they wore under their khaki short skirts. We cleared the four bikes in under two-hours and with a nod of approval from El Jefe, we rolled the bikes 10 meters past the office and into a tiny parking area.

Today was going to be a long one.

By 11:00am we were on the bikes and rolling through Cienfuegos and heading to the central offices (Cuban DMV). Paul, had been through this process on his last visit to Cuba in 2016, which made finding the offices a breeze. (DMV Office GPS: N22 08.654 W80 25.930)

I swear, the four of us rolling through town turned every head on the street. Paul had warned us just how much staring we would pick up, but I’ll confess it’s been a while since we’ve had this much open-mouthed attention.

At the offices, fifty plus locals were already outside, waiting their turn to do whatever they were there to do. With easily the best Spanish amongst us, we nominated Egle to head inside and sweet talk the officials into pushing us to the front of the line. Within 30 minutes we rolled the bikes around the back and into a small compound where each bike was to be inspected and VIN and engine number recorded, before we were issued our Cuban registration plates and a Cuban driving license.

OK, now for anyone reading this and thinking about travelling, here is a huge ‘heads-up’. The engine number on the F800GS is an absolute bitch to find and even harder to get to and read. I eventually found it on the lower left side of the motor and imprinted into the paint, directly behind the lower front exhaust manifold.

Bearing in mind, that in Cuba, the officials scratch a pencil over the engine number, before placing a piece of sticky tape over it and then lifting it from the engine. The graphite sticks to the tape, and the tape is then applied to your paperwork. Low-teach and simple right?

Even after unbolting Touratech engine guards, the official finally gave up trying to record the number and simply wrote down that it was un-recordable.

By 12:00pm we were done and bolting our shiny new Cuban plates were bolted to our bikes. Then the wait began.

Now bearing in mind that at this point, “all” the paperwork that needs to be completed, is! Moreover, before we’d headed out to roll the bikes into the compound for inspection, the critical piece of documentation that we’re actually here to collect had already been printed and signed by each of us. So, all that we’re now waiting for is for the small document to be laminated and handed to us.

Process summary

We arrived in the morning and were there at the offices untill 5pm. The process was incredibly simple and involved the completion of two straightforward forms, where we provided motorcycle information and personal info (ie. Vin number, engine number, plaque/plate details, UK/US driving licesesn detail, etc, etc). The payment for the application and process involved purchasing 'special stamps', which we bought from the captain of the Stahlratte Ship. The driving dept offices do not deal with cash, hence the requirement of the 'stamps'. We paid the equivalent of $10 CUC in stamps (two $5 stamps). For GPS location of the offices see GPS info above.

Well, that took six hours! Yep six! Hey, it was easy, everyone was super friendly and everyone, and mean everyone, was waiting for just as long as we were. It’s just one of those things and when you’ve been travelling for as long as we have, you just come to understand and expect it.

Triumphantly, and with our Cuban licences in hand, we headed back to the bikes and again followed Paul through town to a great spot, which served cold beer and kebabs. (GPS: N22 08.506 W80 27.157). We sat for an hour and chatted and ate, before apologizing to the crowd t that had gathered to stare at the bikes, that we had to leave.

Back at the ship, Lisa and Egle returned to the boat, whilst Paul and I grabbed a bucket of fresh water and set about rinsing the salt off the four bikes.

As dusk turned to night, we walked to a small roadside bar and sipped on cold beer for 10 cents each before cramming ourselves into a 1960’s built taxi and heading into town for dinner.