What images spring to mind when you hear the word “Cuba?”
Remnants of a revolutionary government?
Billowing smoke from hand-rolled cigars in the tropical breeze?
Euphonic Caribbean tunes jammin’ on every block?
Warm-water tubes and playful log peelers?
All of the above?
All of the above. Check. But… wait. Surfing in Cuba? Heck yeah!
After hearing rumors of a burgeoning surf scene and uncrowded waves, we booked tickets this spring to see for ourselves. As our little crew discovered, Cuba’s got waves. Pretty good ones. Punchy bowls and oh-so-playful peelers, right in Havana! Plus there’re legends of uncharted reefs, beachies and even a mysto right point elsewhere on the island. And the Caribbean vibes are all swingin’—powder blue, warm water, palm tree–laden shorelines.
But what sets this island apart from others in the region is the feeling that you’ve somehow gone back in time. Cuba is undeniably synonymous with its historic, vibrant past—still witnessed via stunning Old World architecture; roads filled with classic cars; raw, rugged, bucolic beachside dwellings; shades of Cold War Communist propaganda peeling off painted walls. And it’s all revealed the second you sit on your board in the lineup and turn around to face the beach.
So why isn’t surfing in Cuba promoted more? Like many things not allowed here, the Cuban government has historically kept a surf-centric lifestyle from developing. Our crew was astonished to find out that—in a country of more than 11 million people—there are only about 80 true surfers on the entire island. Truth is, the sport of kings is still in its infancy here. The future of Cuban surf culture is wide open, and seemingly in good hands. The tiny number of Cuban wave-seekers we met were completely open-arms to us surf tourists, frothing with surf stoke and pure Aloha spirit.
“The energy emitted by the surfers we had the chance to trade waves with reminded me of how I felt when I first got into surfing,” says Sanuk ambassador Corina Barnick. “They have an electric excitement about anything surf-related. Every wave that rolled through, no matter how walled up, approximately six people would paddle for it, all yelling each other’s names to ‘GO!’ and ‘GET IT!’ It was true surf-stoke at its best.”
In Cuba, rum ain’t the only thing that comes by the barrel. Sanuk Ambassador Alejandro Moreda, buzzing.
Even before we began packing boards and booking flights to Havana, we could feel the local love. Reaching out to Cuban surfer Yaliagni Guerrero (known to the locals simply as “Yaya”) to pick her brain a bit, she was genuinely excited to help flesh out the details and welcome us to her home. (Little did we know, she and her amazing group of friends would become our family for the week—sharing their unique way of life, their homes, culture and the authentic Cuban surf experience.)
Yaya suggested bringing surfboards, fins, leashes, wax, swimwear and pretty much anything sold in a surf shop. Cuba doesn’t have any of that stuff. Nada. There isn’t a single surf shop or even wax-selling liquor store on the island.
Like many Western amenities, those little surf lifestyle luxuries we take for granted may come to Cuba, but who knows when? So, we carried in every waveriding accessory we could, fully aiming to leave it all behind for the locals after we bounced. Black Fern Surfboards chipped in four amazing boards for the cause. Sanuk ambassador Alejandro Moreda brought some sleds from his personal collection, plus others from friends and family back in Puerto Rico. And Cori even lugged her first longboard down—a beautiful, traditional shape by Tanner.
Sanuk Ambassador Cori Barnick, heading out for her first Cuban sea slide
“One of my favorite parts about this trip is the fact that every board in this photo is still on that tiny island, hopefully being ridden and enjoyed by a young surfer there,” Cori beams
The best tale of our trip? Scrappers from Stay Wild Magazine illuminates: “One early morning as we prepared to paddle out, we were stopped by Cuban police. They spoke directly, stating in Spanish that we were not to get into the water. This isn’t uncommon, and thankfully our new friends knew how to handle the situation. They told the officers that we were training for the 2020 Olympics. A basic truth (not really) that quickly granted us permission to surf. The whole time, an armed policeman—who was about the same age as us, if not younger—monitored us. Once the truckload of other officers departed, he snuck the opportunity to video our surf session on his phone, with a secret smile across his face all the while.”
Viva Cuba!