Escape

ISLAMORADA, FL. Back at long last! I have escaped a most treacherous experience. Recently I traveled via a bamboo raft from Key West Florida to Cuba for a very rare and special treat unavailable in the United States. I am going to refrain from giving exact details, dates, and names for obvious reasons. My journey began about one month ago. I had been spending time in Miami Florida when I had a very strong urge for a true Cuban mojito. I am not talking about one of those horse-mint Bacardi knockoffs the sell in New York or Boston. But the real deal made with mentha sachalinensis and true Cuban rum blanca. The kind you can only find in once place, Havana.
The point of departure was an abandoned bridge north-east on US 1 about 30 miles from Key West proper, where I fashioned a small bamboo raft lashed with hemp rope. Since I have extensive experience in ocean survival from days sailing in northern Australia, I was not worried about this simple 90-mile jaunt.
My craft shuttled me with the grace and speed of any such crude sailing vessel. I arrived in Cuban water after 4 days of sailing. My readers familiar with sailing to Cuba know the most dangerous part is the last mile. When I approached this point I made my move. In style of Jaques Yves Cousteau, I suited up in my SCUBA gear and dove in. My plan was flawless, Cuban authorities would find my raft and assume refugees were leaving Cuba, not someone trying to enter.
I arrived unscathed in the 40 minutes it took me to swim one mile to shore. I judged I would have about 42 minutes of air time at a depth of 22ft. Why 22 ft? This is the safest-shallowest depth in waters off Guillanos Bay. In that area most of the ships draw a maximum of 19 feet and I wanted at least 3 feet of margin from their propellers. The inexperienced SCUBA diver requires more air then those who dive regularly, but in fact I have conditioned myself to require less air than 99% of all SCUBA divers. The average SCUBA diver would only have 31 minutes of air time at that depth in a flat out swim. I had about 5 minutes of air time left when I crawled on to Cuban soil.
I had prepared a change of clothes in a compressed wet bag, I had brought one pair of linen pants, one linen shirt, and a genuine crushable panama hat made in Honduras. Once I was in proper local attire, I went searching for the perfect mojito.