We decided it would be fun to rent some scooters and go for a ride through the local area.
Picking over the stable of 50cc scooters. You choice was colour. About your only other choice was scratches, rust, cracks or all three.
Riding on the back of Dave’s bike, so that I could click away.
When we left it was raining and as any rider knows, fresh rain means slick roads.
Instead of avoiding the washed-out portions of the road, Patrick decided to hit them as fast as the scooter would go.
Lanes? Where we’re going, we don’t need lanes.
A herd of horses.
Part way through the ride we stopped for gas. The attendant insisted on putting the gas in himself. He was also sure that the machines required their high-octane fuel. Then again, when we were filling up so was a late 50s Chevy.
We saw a beach from the road and decided to take a look. As soon as we were stopped a dog came by and laid by our bikes. He stayed there the whole time and only left when Patrick tried to play fetch with him. When he saw Patrick coming towards him he was gone. It seems that in Cuba a man with a stick doesn’t mean ‘fun’.
We hadn’t taken two steps onto the beach when Patrick noticed a turtle shell. Unsure on the species. At first we assumed this to be unusual.
Futher down the beach we noticed more and more dead green turtles. We were not sure on the cause of death, but most of the ones we found had the bottom and top part of the shell laid out as if to dry them in the sun. In all, we saw about a dozen turles of various species.
A bunker on the beach. Unsure on its function. Around this bunker there was a lot of refuse, old fires and most of the turtles.
Back on the road
Towards the end of the trip, we switched up and I rode with Patrick.
David demonstrating the improper way to wear a helmet. If it wasn’t for the buses, taxis and poorly packed trucks passing on every side at 120km/h, this might seem dangerous.