Okay, it's hands up time. For me the initial motivation for doing a charity challenge was neither charity nor challenge but destination - in this case Cuba, a place I'd always meant to visit but never got round to. Like everyone else, I'd noticed the increasing number of adverts for charity challenges but disregarded them on the grounds that a) I'd never be able to raise the minimum sponsorship money and b) why go all that way to do them in mainly poor countries when you can cycle from say London to Brighton at considerably less administrative cost? Obviously trekking in Ladakh/Nepal/Peru beats bypassing Haywards Heath hands down vis-à-vis exotic allure. But what swung it for me was a friend in Devon who had done a charity cycle ride in Cuba and was knocked out by both the place and the experience.

So now that I've done one myself, what's my opinion? The trip I went on was for the National Deaf Children's Society. It was brilliantly organised, the cycling strenuous but never so arduous as to make it unenjoyable (I'd done plenty of preparatory training). We all bonded in a common cause and the charity made heaps of money even after deducting costs. There were 55 in our group (a mixture of teachers, journalists, doctors, nurses, freelance artists and students plus the inevitable website designer) and between us we raised £140,000. About half of everyone's minimum of £2,300 sponsorship went to cover costs, although most people surpassed the minimum target so it was in effect less than half. Ours was the last of seven rides in Cuba in the winter of 1999/2000, and there are other challenge rides/treks in China, Sri Lanka, Mexico, Jordan and Iceland.

But what does Cuba get out of it? Last year the charity donated 20,000 from its aggregate net income for local projects and equipment. A similar sum is expected to be donated this year. This may seem paltry, but is still a significant amount in local terms. Nevertheless, maybe a larger sum would offset using a beleaguered country (Cuba is still severely affected by the US trade embargo) as a venue. The trip was nine days in length, five days cycling at approximately 50 miles a day, two days flying there and back and a day at either end to acclimatise and unwind. The charity had delegated the nuts and bolts of the ride - flights, bikes, accommodation, food plus mechanical and medical support - to a tour company who invoiced the charity for their services. They weren't cheap but did an excellent job, taking part in the ride themselves (as did a couple of workers from the charity). They also provided an intelligent ongoing commentary on Cuban politics, economy and culture far removed from the patronising patter of the 'warmth of the people will remain with you long after your tans have faded' variety I've experienced elsewhere.

Our itinerary took us off the normal tourist routes and through agricultural landscapes (mainly sugar cane), villages and small towns where local residents, especially the children, often applauded us through. Whether this is because such sights are becoming familiar (apparently there was another charity ride going the other way not long after ours) I'm not sure. I like to think it was our being on bikes, albeit multi-gear hybrids, rather than in luxury coaches, that endeared us to Cubans for whom cycles are an integral part of getting around, as are horses and carts. One place we stayed in offered buggy rides, which in our ignorance we took to be for tourists but were in fact for residents, petrol being an expensive commodity thanks to the US embargo.

At the end of each day we'd arrive at our accommodation in state- run hotels or holiday chalets. This meant the money went back into the Cuban economy more directly than in the all-inclusive, hermetically sealed luxury hotel complexes in places like Varadero, which are funded and part-owned by international consortiums. We stayed in Varadero for two nights at the end of the ride, and I found it utterly soulless and devoid of Cubans except in ancillary roles.

Being in a large group tended to keep us separate from local life. Backpackers, for instance, can live and eat with families, whereas we were in hotels. And during the day we'd be toiling away on the bikes. Other than that, we did the usual tourist things in our free time - listening to the ubiquitous bands (music seemed to be on the wind), dancing to the salsa beats, hanging out in small bars drinking beers or mojitos, the rum cocktail beloved of Ernest Hemingway (at our own expense I hasten to add), or making visits to places mentioned in our guide books. My favourite was the Museum of the Revolution in Havana, with its extensive photographic record of the overthrow of Batista in 1959 and various memorabilia including Che Guevara's sock.

Tourism is a fairly recent development in Cuba - part of the adjustment following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 . Tourism brings in much-needed revenue, but with it the dangers of a two-tier economy (those with and those without dollars) in a country dedicated to social equality. So our being there both helps and hinders. Still, je ne regrette rien. I've done my bit for charity and been somewhere I always wanted to go.

My friend down in Devon says the experience in part changed her life. I wouldn't go that far, but then I've always subscribed to the Roman poet Horace's take on travel. He wrote, 'they change their sky but not their soul who cross the sea', doubtless before setting off to do a chariot challenge in Asia Minor to raise funds for an Iron Age good cause.