From our Archives- A Trip for the Ages

Part 1

It was official.  I was going to Havana.  I had opened my email and there it was, a permit from the Coast Guard allowing me to take my yacht into Cuban waters.  It seemed like a far-fetched dream last December when my buddy told me to join the Texas Mariners Cruising Association because they were planning a trip to Havana.  I didn’t really believe it but thought it would be fun to join the group to work on my yachtsman skills regardless of whether the Cuban trip materialized.

By Gilbert Arrazolo

Copyright Arrazolo Law, P.C.

It was official.  I was going to Havana.  I had opened my email and there it was, a permit from the Coast Guard allowing me to take my yacht into Cuban waters.  It seemed like a far-fetched dream last December when my buddy told me to join the Texas Mariners Cruising Association because they were planning a trip to Havana.  I didn’t really believe it but thought it would be fun to join the group to work on my yachtsman skills regardless of whether the Cuban trip materialized.

Now it was April in what was the most difficult financial year that I had in the past 15 years.   Havana was in my sights.  The logical part of me told me to just call Chris over at Texas Mariners and gracefully bow out of the endeavor.  The truth was that it would cost me about $8,000.00 in diesel to get my 1984 48-foot twin diesel Albin North Sea Cutter to Havana and back.  That’s assuming 2000 miles’ round trip at one gallon of diesel per mile at 4.00 average per gallon.  I would also need about $5,000.00 in cash for spending money and food.  It was $13,000.00 that I didn’t have and would need to borrow.

It was not a smart or logical thing to do, but my philosophy was that if something was important enough to dream about then it simply had to be done, no matter what the cost.  On the bright side, I knew my vessel was up for the task.  I had logged over 4000 nautical miles on her since I bought her in Key West back in 2011.  It took me over a year to find her because of my criteria.  I was looking for a yacht under $100,000.00 that had upgraded, modern power.  It needed a heavy blue water hull that could withstand the punishment of the open sea.  I also needed a full beam bedroom with a queen-sized bed and an open cockpit.  When my captain found it in Key West I flew out and bought her for $119,000.00 after the sea trial.  We zig zagged 1150 miles as we made our way back to Galveston.  Once I had her back I put her on dry dock.  I spend $15,000.00 on bow and stern thrusters to make it more maneuverable in docking situations.  I spent $5,000.00 on an upgraded Garmin Chart plotter and an additional $14,000.00 new paint on the hull.  I put 10 coats of varnish on her exterior teak.  I renamed her the Quid Pro Quo. Something for something.  It was the motto for the high school I went to.  Work hard and you would reap the rewards.  Give something and expect something back.  The boat would be my ticket to adventure.  My Segway to childhood dreams.  The fact was there was no doubt in my mind.  I was going to Havana.  I would be the only Mexican of a 19-yacht fleet.  I would be the only captain/owner who would be taking his yacht straight across the gulf from Galveston, Texas to Key West, Florida.   I would be the first private yacht to clear US Customs in Galveston from Cuba.  I would smoke a Cohiba cigar while admiring Hemingway’s boat, Pilar in Cuba.  With my mind at peace, I turned my attention to details and logistics.

I called each of my crew members to confirm that we had received clearance and permits from the US Coastguard as well as their availability.  My brother Uvaldo had accompanied me on blue water adventures before.  Blue water has different meanings to different people.  One common definition is that you are in Blue water when you are so far off shore that the US Coast Guard will not come get you.  Typically rescue helicopters have a 500-mile cruise range, so once you are more than 250 miles off shore you are all alone in the event of an emergency.  Uvaldo was a truck driver and a diesel mechanic.  He was the epitome of reliability.  He was quiet and reserved and preferred to listen and observe rather than be the center of attention.  Fortunately, on our prior adventures we had not needed his services.  However, that was in part because of the precautions and preventative maintenance that we did on the Quid Pro Quo’s engines while in the safety of our own marina.  Without Uvaldo, I would not be as confident about the trip.  I’m not sure if he understood what inspired me to go on these crazy trips.  He never asked.  It could be something as simple as being my older brother.  One thing was certain, he did take pleasure in the days and nights at open sea.  There is nothing quite like the open sea. 

My third crewman was Roberto.  Roberto was an interesting character.  He was my sister’s boyfriend and I was very surprised when he asked if he could come on the trip.  He did not have a mechanical background or a yachting background.  He had a lot of enthusiasm and a good attitude.  He was a good soul and always trying to help out at the ranch and also with the rental properties.  Don was my final crew member.  He was ex-navy and was experienced working on small engines, generators and electronics.  We had talked for years about him joining us on a blue water adventure.  He had worked over 20 years for the postal service.  My prior invitations had always been met with a quick and enthusiastic yes followed by a disappointing withdrawal as the trip date approached.  I had considered not even inviting him to Cuba for that reason but did it anyway.  He went to high school with me but had been kicked out of the school for an incident that had humiliated the school.  It was a boarding school for ghetto youth and he and two school mates left the school at about 2 am, broke into a local convenience store and stole three cases of beer.  Mr. Moore, the principal found them the next morning and kicked them out of school.  “Take that road back to Houston.  And don’t look back!”  he yelled at them.  His eyes blaring red and holding back tears of rage.  Mr. Moore loved Don.  He loved all of us.  Don and his buddies had betrayed Mr. Moore.  They betrayed all of us.  Despite this I had been in contact with Don about 10 years ago, and he had done his best at redemption.  He had finished high school and even got an associates degree.  He had also joined the Navy.  He felt truly bad about what he had done.  He felt terrible about not apologizing to Mr. Moore before he died.  He had a history with drug abuse and was a recovering drug and sex addict.  To my surprise, he answered the phone right away and was beside himself with joy when I told him we had the green light from the Coast Guard.  Don was going to join us in Key West and would go with us into Havana then back to Key West and back to Galveston.  That left us with a three- man crew to Key West.  It was doable but I preferred a four- man crew doing six hour shifts in pairs during the day and 4 hour shifts at night.  A three-man crew put a lot of stress on the crew, particularly on lookout duty at night. 

We had 20 days before our departure.  We still had weather to contend with to make our safe journey across the gulf.  We needed a four-day window of good weather.  I considered swells less than 6 feet winds less than 20 knots to be adequate.  If the weather didn’t cooperate we could go through the Intercostal Waterway along with the other six yachts that were departing Galveston.  However, that would increase the miles from 2000 to 2500 and probably make the trip too expensive.  We had several minor projects on the boat to complete before departing.  Finally, I had to meet with my banker to get my credit line increased to fund the trip.  I hated the thought of playing with borrowed money, but this was a special trip.