HISTORY:
From 1991 to 1995, I owned a 26' Northstar Sloop. It was berthed in the northern part of the Chesapeake (Bohemia River) I always encountered other waverunners while sailing and envied their ability to get where they were going faster than I was. I really enjoyed cruising, but found myself limited as to where I could go by the size and speed of my vessel. I decided to try out a waverunner by renting one for an hour. I was immediately hooked. I realized that with a vessel of this size and speed, I could go anywhere I wanted as long as I had enough fuel. I called a local Yamaha dealer, and after giving him my social security number, he called back telling me he had a 95 Yamaha Waveventure on a trailer waiting for me to pick it up. I installed a hitch on my truck and put a "For Sale" sign on the sailboat. Now it was time for planing some trips!
After a series of long distance inland trips (Key Largo to Miami, Philadelphia to Sasafrass River on the Chesapeake) I decided to plan and execute a trip from Hillsboro Inlet, Pompano Beach, Florida to North Bimini, Bahamas. After designing and installing the aft tank, I departed on June 6th at 7 am. 2.5 hours later, I was in the Bahamas!

PREP
I prepared my Yamaha waverunner with a total of 36 gallons of fuel. The main OEM tank hold 13 gallons, there is another 6-gallon tank under the rear seat in the storage compartment. There are 2 additional 6-gallon tanks abaft. These tanks are all connected via 3 fuelcocks so as to allow the ability to switch tanks while running. There is also a 5-gallon tank that is not connected as an emergency fuel reserve. For navigation, I had a Garmin etrex as the main GPS, and a Garmin IIIplus as a backup. For safety, I had a Uniden handheld VHF, and an Olin Flare Gun kit. If I were to do it again, I would purchase an EPIRB.

TRIP TO:
I prepared and tested my fuel tank system locally. I arrived in Key West 4 days before departure to allow for a weather window and any possible last minute mechanical problems. I went offshore so as to get a feel for the sea state. I found I could average from 30-35 miles per hour in 2-4 foot seas. I had arranged to follow in the wake of another boat that was also going. The day before departure, I went to the dock were they had told me they would be. I could not find the boat, and upon inquiring with the dockmaster, found out that they had cancelled their slip reservation due to mechanical problems. Things were getting interesting.

I awoke at 4 am the next morning. After fueling up all the tanks, I drove the truck and trailer to the municipal ramp and launched the boat. There were a few early morning fishermen launching bass boats who had puzzled looks on their faces, probably because I had 3 fuel tanks strapped to my waverunner and the sun had yet to rise. As I headed out through the no wake zone, one of them jokingly yelled out; "Where are you off to? Cuba?". "Yep", I replied, as I put on my helmet and mounted my American flag off the aft boarding handle.

Upon departing the Key West channel buoys, I faced 100 miles of open ocean ahead of me. I looked down to the Etrex GPS, and only saw black, I thought it might be my polarized sunglasses causing the problem. I took them off, looked down, and the Etrex screen was still black. Great, not even ten miles out and I'm down to one GPS. I wondered if this was an omen. I glanced to the duffel bag I had wrapped in a garbage bag and thought about its brand name. It's made by a company called "Amelia Earhart luggage". It wasn't reassuring to say the least. I removed the Etrex from the handlebars and thought about heaving it into the sea and yelling "tell me where you are now!" But I reminded myself I could probably exchange it. I concluded the impacts from the waves had somehow scrambled its innards. I packed it away into the forward compartment, and deployed the Garmin IIIplus. It was in a waterproof pouch. I decided not to hardmount it, but to tape it to my left upper thigh with some electrical tape. This seemed to subject the device to much less impact. It was a little more difficult to look down at, especially with the helmet on. But at least it worked. After making about 30 miles towards my destination, the numbers of boats in the vicinity decreased down to one. I concluded that he must have also been heading to Cuba, so I slowed down a bit and eventually settled in to his wake. A much more comfy ride.

After 5 hours at approximately 25 mph, I saw rectangular shapes on the horizon. I wondered if these were freighters. But a few minutes later, I realized I was looking at the skyline of Havana Cuba. "LAND HO!" I yelled into my helmet. I waved goodbye and thank you to the boat I had been following. I looked down to the GPS, nailed the throttle, and made 45 mph towards my destination.

I had drifted a little eastward of the straight line between Key West and Marina Hemingway. It seems the boat I was following had never heard of cross track error. I think their navigation was suffering more from "brew-eskew error". So, I had about 2 miles of cruising westward along the Cuban coast about 2 miles offshore. I saw the entrance buoy, passed it close to starboard, and lined myself up with the channel. As soon as I passed the threshold, I slowed down to no wake speed and raised my Q flag and Cuban courtesy ensign. I slowly idled up to the customs dock were a uniformed guard stood. "Hello!" I offered. He just stared. A second, more senior looking official appeared. "Yes?" He said. "I need to check in" I replied. They talked to each other in Spanish briefly and then asked me where I had come from from. "Key West, USA" I answered. This reply seemed to anger them, and after they exchanged a few more words in Spanish amongst themselves, I was informed by the senior official that I would have to wait "on board my vessel" till I was cleared in. That would have been fine, except that my left leg was badly sunburned, and I was much looking forward to stepping on to stable, dry land. After a few minutes of being stared at, I handed over my passport to another official. After about 30 minutes, a few of officials with assorted uniforms had gathered, One of them said "What is he doing down there? Get up here. Someone get him a chair, He just rode that thing here from Key West!"

I had laminated photocopies of all my paperwork ready. This helped speed up the checking in process tremendously. For some reason, when checking in, the officials from the various ministeries walk away with your paperwork for twenty minutes and more. A customs official had to actually board my boat, much to the teasing of the other officials. After what seemed an eternity of questions and review of my paperwork, I finally heard the words I was waiting for; "Welcome to Cuba!"

I idled through the canals making my way to the dockmasters office as many other boats of US origin stared at me puzzledly. I found the dockmasters office and was assigned my fully hosted dock space. I knew I had to hurry, as I knew my aunt who lives in Cuba would be getting worried as it was now 3 hours later than I had expected to clear in. I packed up my belongings and headed to the marina entrance. There was my cousin and his motorcycle, patiently waiting for me. "You made it" he said. "Yes I did.". I got on the back of the motorcycle and I was on my way to my aunts. Let me say that a motorcycle ride through Havana is much more harrowing than a waverunner ride across the stream.

I arrived at my aunts, took a quick shower to get the thin layer of salt off me, and I was treated to a delicious Cuban meal consisting of Yucca, pork, avocados, and rice. It was delicious, especially since it was the first meal of the day. I spent the next few days there, just resting and recuperating after such a long ride.

I had my cousin drop me off at he marina the day of the Skippers meeting for the 6th annual El Morro Castle Race. I got to meet the Commodore of the Yacht Club. He looked at me and asked, "why did you come here on a moto aquatica?" (Spanish for waverunner). "It's the only boat I have, sir". Laughing out loud, he proceeded to introduce me to other sailors attending the meeting. I asked the commodore if I could be amongst the sailboats the next day. He laughed again and said that I should fill out a form. I went to the desk and found blank forms. I proceeded to fill out all the pertinent information. Vessel name; Badness II. Flag; USA. When I got to part that asked for vessel length, I wrote; 124". The rest of the evening consisted of conversation, drinks, and hor devres. All provided by the yacht club as part of the fully hosted event. I was very impressed with the hospitality and warmth of the Cuban people and participants overall. As the evening wound down, I checked on my boat, and proceeded to the gate for my motorcycle ride back to my aunts.

The next morning, after another carbon monoxide filled commute, I poured the left over gasoline from my external and emergency tanks into my main tank. I had appropieatly estimated the amount to bring based on the thirds rule. I idled through the canal on the way to a temporary station set up by customs to process the boats participating in the regatta. As I approached , I saw the senior customs official get that "oh no, not this guy again" look on his face. "Good morning, I'm participating in the regatta" I declared. "Did you fill out a form?" "Yes". "Name of your Boat?" ."Badness II". He yelled the name out and another official sitting at some plastic lawn furniture shuffled through papers and found my form. The senior official looked it over and commented, "124?". "Inches sir". He signed it, stamped it, and I was on my way.

After exiting the marina, I noticed one large military vessel on the horizon, and various smaller military ships patrolling the area. I was sure that the larger ship was probably aware of my presence, but it was confirmed when 2 crewmen ran out on the foredeck and observed me through binoculars. I guess after a brief radio exchange, they were informed that I was part of the event. I mingled amongst the sailboats, making sure to stay out of their way as they maneuvered for position.

I followed the leading boat, a trimaran, all the way to the Havana Harbor entrance buoy. The sight of the Morro Castle, where my parents were interned for 2 weeks before departing Cuba, was spectacular. The juxtaposition of my waverunner floating in front of this imposing structure made me pause to reflect on exactly where I was and what it all meant.

After observing a few other sailboats round the buoy, I decided I'd exposed myself enough to the sun. I turned west and proceeded to make 45 M.P.H. back to the Marina. I couldn't help but to remark to myself "I'm buzzing the north shore of CUBA!"

Upon my return, I took a quick shower at the public restroom, and changed into non rubber clothing I had packed in my garbage bag wrapped duffel bag. I was looking forward to the awards dinner that evening for the regatta participants. I headed over to the Yacht club to try and get the forecast for the next few days. The only forecast posted was temperature. I need a little more info. So I proceeded to the upstairs offices and asked if I could use their computer and go on the Internet to try and get a forecast from the NWS website. They had a very slow connection, and a slow computer, but I was able to find out the forecast was 10-15 knot winds from the East-Northeast, seas 4-6 feet, higher in the gulf stream. I felt a little nauseous. I proceeded to print out a copy and the secretary there very nicely offered to make me additional copies. I proceeded to get on my waverunner to idle back to my berth. The convenient part of the waverunner is that it serves as the dinghy, the liferaft, and the primary vessel. I shared the weather forecast with whomever I encountered on my way back throughout the canal.

As the evening took shape, tables were set with placards with each boats name on it. I jokingly mentioned with a few of the attendees that I didn't see my boats table anywhere. As I mingled, I noticed a table with a placard on it that read "Badness II" I sat down and wondered whom the other three chairs were for. The captain of a sailboat whose acquaintance I had made happened to be walking by, and I happened to have an extra meal ticket. I waved him over and invited him to a free meal. As he settled in to his chair he said;"If anyone asks, tell `em I work the foredeck"

Club Nautico put on a great awards ceremony. The entertainment consisted of a very famous dance troupe. They awarded various prizes for the different racing classes. The evening was outstanding! Back to the motorcycle....

I awoke at 4 am and prepared for my cruise back to the U.S. I must say it felt awkward getting on the waverunner while it was still dark and so quiet. As I idled through the canal to the customs dock , I looked behind me and noticed something floating in the water. I looked forward and when I looked back again, whatever was floating there was now gone. I approached the customs dock and was met by sleepy officials who were polite and and processed me quickly and uneventfully. As I was about to leave I noticed a very large sportfisher approaching the dock. He was also departing for Key West. I was glad to see him, because the thought of facing 15 footers in the middle was not a pleasant one.

We headed out at about 06:00. The sun wasn't scheduled to rise till about 06:37. They turned their aft fishing lights on so they could keep an eye on me. As their boat began to get up on plane, I donned my helmet and got ready for the wild ride ahead.

At about 15 miles out, the sea started giving me a hint of what was ahead. After a spectacular sunrise, the wave height began to steadily increase. Once we were solidly in the stream, the 15-foot rollers were coming in sure and strong. I would lose sight of the sportfisher as I rode downhill in to the trough. I paid particular close attention to the throttle, as I did not want to submarine my boat into the foot of one of these monsters. Just as I found myself going downhill, I would be riding up hill, reaching the crest of the wave to only have it drop out from under me and find myself 15 feet in the air. SLAM! Went my boat as all 800 pounds of it landed flat into the next trough. This cycle repeated itself a few times to the point were I started wondering how much more of this the boat or I could take. I started getting better at it though. I learned that I could avoid or lessen the impact by turning at the top of the wave and riding down the steep side. This however, increased the possibility of corkscrewing. It was a dangerous compromise between being slammed, or "ducking" into the bottom of the next wave.

After about 3 hours of this, it began to lessen and the ride started getting a little easier. The day was warming up and the water was a beautiful deep blue color as flying fish breached in my bow wake and looked at me with their big eye. They would stay right next to me for distances of a hundred feet or more. I couldn't help but think to myself, it was a smaller version of when dolphins breech in a larger vessels bow wake. Slowly, Key West began to take shape on the horizon and the seas lessened even more. As soon as I was within cell range, I called my mother and let her know I was back. I had done it; I had ridden to Cuba and back on my waverunner.