One Girl One Dream

by Dekker, Laura

  The next day, my best friend, Aileen, comes to visit and spends the night. We have a great time going to McDonald’s and then seeing a movie.

  My dad, gran and granddad have also landed at Schiphol Airport. They were still on Bonaire when I suddenly decided to accept the invitation for the boat fair and they had already booked their flight. My dad, mum and Kim come to the boat fair the following day. There’s a little tension at the beginning, because various state organisations had tried to set my parents against each other in the attempt to stop me from undertaking my voyage, and this had led to some misunderstandings. At the end of the afternoon, something special happens. We decide to go out for a meal together and it turns out to be very enjoyable. My parents are nice to each other and tell us stories about their own voyage around the world when I was born in New Zealand. It’s so good to be together like this. It’s the first time in years that the four of us have done something together.

  Dad, Mum, Kim, I and Spot, of course, have a photograph taken. This photo will be framed and go back with me to Bonaire where it will have a place of honour on Guppy. I don’t possess a recent photograph of the whole family and don’t know if I’ll ever have one again. I grew up with my dad and seldom saw my mum over the years. I love them both, but gave up the hope of ever seeing the family reunited a long time ago.

  Once the boat fair is over, I spend a few days with Mum and then some with Dad. I also visit the hospital, where they discover that I fractured my skull in the car accident. Fortunately, a scan shows that it’s healing nicely and I don’t need to worry about it. Then my time in the Netherlands comes to an end and I’m really looking forward to getting back to Guppy. I notice that I don’t miss my home country at all, even though it’s good to see my family and friends again.

  After a 10-hour flight to Bonaire and with a big smile on my face, I stumble over the bridge to the marina and back onto Guppy. I’m dragging a repaired sail, my backpack and a lot of spare parts for my mate, Guppy. I never thought a week in the Netherlands would be so tiring! It was really cool being back, but exhausting. My visit to the Netherlands had been one long chain of events that had me flying, running and jogging. I managed to do an enormous amount but there were also things I ran out of time for. Luckily, I’m back on my faithful Guppy and have a few days to recover before I start sailing again.

  After a bad night with a lot of mosquitos, I get up. I’m going to sail today, but before I do so there is a lot that needs to be done. I start by removing the sail covers and the wind catcher, after which I check the rigging and the engines. Then it’s time to check the weather on the internet and chat to Dad via Skype. At about half past eight, Gerard takes me to get Guppy’s outward clearance at Customs and Immigration. The immigration official is not yet at his post, so together with Anneke we decide to have breakfast at City, a restaurant on the boulevard. During the breakfast, a Customs officer comes to tell us that the immigration official has arrived. After clearing outward, I get back to enjoy my breakfast of bacon, egg, fruit and bread. It’s yummy!

  I go back to Guppy, cast off the mooring lines at 10 o’clock and make for the San Blas Islands. I’ve decided to give Curaçao and Aruba a miss. The Aruban prime minister’s advisor has invited me a few times to please attend a special party to be given in my honour on the island. He’s even offered to pay for my presence, but I don’t want to be the focus of any more attention and don’t need a party. Right now, I just need space, water, waves and Guppy.

  Bonaire–San Blas Islands: 670 nautical miles

  DAY 1: 14 March

  It’s blowing hard and, after a month on land, it’s great to be out at sea again. After rounding Little Bonaire with just the mainsail, I set the genoa and Guppy gets up to 7 knots with ease. Awesome! I’ve been doused by my first wave. Halfway to Curaçao that afternoon I’m really tired, but I’m on the windward side of the island and too close to land to afford nodding off. I’m just counting the waves when I suddenly see a huge cargo ship bearing down on me at full speed. I’m looking into the sun and can’t see on which side to pass her. I call her on the VHF . . . no answer . . . Then she suddenly emits a big cloud of fumes and alters course to avoid me. Thanks for keeping an eye out! I hate cargo ships, but this one has certainly woken me up. On the SSB radio, I listen to some of the chatter as I sit and watch the sunset from the cockpit. I’ve finally passed Curaçao, and as soon as night falls I manage to steal a couple of hours’ sleep.

  DAY 2: 15 March

  I’ve had a bad night and wasn’t able to drop off once, but I must say that the full moon was amazing. A little light is always better than a black night. Sometimes it’s so dark at sea that I can’t see Guppy’s bow. I’m still not feeling a hundred per cent and have a headache. That accident on Bonaire has had more impact on my health than I expected.

  I’m trying to call Hans, who helped me to install the SSB, on the radio, but get no reply. I’m warming up the leftover pizza from Monday and eat it in the cockpit while gazing out over the vast expanse of blue. What an awesome sight! I’m so glad I persevered and overcame all those setbacks in the Netherlands. Usually, my first full day at sea is great and everything is good, but my mood swings in the afternoon and I’m asking myself why I didn’t stay at home. This is what I experienced yesterday, too. Towards evening the sunset compensates for everything and I know that it’s all been worth it.

  My gaze falls on the chart with the time zones. In the Red Sea, there will be a three-hour time difference with Europe. I’m hoping that it will be safe by the time I get there and that there will be fewer pirates. Guppy isn’t exactly a trophy, but I’m worried that they may regard me as a hostage that could be worth some money. My voyage is enjoying world coverage and pirates also have access to the internet . . .

  DAY 3: 16 March

  I’ve managed to cover 175 of the 675 miles and expect to arrive at the San Blas islands in three to four days — my last stop before the Panama Canal. I’ve been studying all the books and information from other sailors on this canal. It’s a very busy shipping route and you can’t just sail through it. First my boat needs to be measured and inspected, and then I’ll have to find four extra crew for the line-handling in the locks. The Panama Canal is always busy and they want to avoid accidents at all costs, so pilotage is compulsory. In the locks a yacht rises by 9 metres each time, and you need to remain in the centre of the lock. This is done with the help of four lines that are heaved across by the canal linesmen. These lines need to be kept taut at all times by the crew.

  Organising all of that costs time, and only afterwards are you given a date to pass through the canal, and this can take a couple of weeks. That’s why I’m glad I can keep going now. I’m sailing about 50 miles off the coast of Colombia and pirates are reputed to be active here, too. Although I’ve mainly seen water around me for the past couple of days, I’ve regularly passed cargo ships. Two of them sailed straight for me and one didn’t respond to my call on the VHF. Fortunately, that was during the day and I could see them coming from a good distance. I’m also lucky that it’s almost full moon, so that I have good visibility at night, too. It also helps with spotting squalls, although the radar is better at picking them up than I am. Until now it’s been perfect weather and both Guppy and I are enjoying this. A wonderful following wind is helping to blow Guppy onward at a speed of 7 knots. I notice that I can amuse myself for hours just looking at the sea and waves — they never cease to fascinate me!

  DAY 4: 17 March

  I counted a record number of flying fish on board this morning. There were six in the cockpit and five on deck, even though I managed to save two of them the previous night. As soon as I threw one back, the next one came on board! I suppose it’s logical, as predator fish hunt them at full moon and they have to fly to evade them. Bad luck that this lot landed on Guppy.

  I managed to sleep last night despite encounters with a couple of short squalls. It’s still overcast outside but most of the threatening cloud masses pass by
. The sun is tanning my face and I’m able to sit in the cockpit without getting a wave over me most of the time. This is the life!

  There’s now 340 miles to go. We have wind from astern and Guppy is sailing at about 7 knots, bringing us to San Blas with speed. Besides the flying fish keeping me busy and a couple of passing ships, it’s a boring day. There’s little to do in terms of sailing. I change tack with the genoa a couple of times and play with the course. I don’t feel like reading or writing; I don’t really feel like anything. After a few unsuccessful attempts at trying to call Bonaire on the SSB, I give that up, too.

  Otherwise, I’m agonising about being able to reach the San Blas Islands by daylight in two days’ time. If I don’t make it by daylight, it will mean that I have to wait offshore on Saturday night. The islands are surrounded by dangerous reefs and I’ll need to find the entrance to the lee side, and I’m not going to risk doing this in the dark. We’ve another 317 miles to go and it’s now 15.20. Guppy is fast, but is she fast enough? I hope so. I text Dad my position via the satellite phone from time to time because the tracker on Guppy has been unreliable since Bonaire.

  I’m sitting in the cockpit gazing out in front of me. A wave washes over me and I look for a spot that stays dry. There’s a white bird with a long tail flying around the boat. Is it a cockatoo? It’s beautiful, but I really hope it’s not going to land and shit all over the boat. Fortunately, it rejects Guppy as a landing site and flies on.

  It’s blowing harder and harder, which is something I was prepared for. The area between Barranquilla and Cartagena can be very windy. Just before sunset, I put a reef in the mainsail. Night falls fast.

  DAY 5: 18 March

  We sail through the night with a wind of 35 knots and ever-rougher seas. Everything, but everything, is salty: my bed, the floor, the cockpit and the cushion I sit on to observe my surroundings. Everything I’m wearing is also soaked in salt. The wind has gradually dropped to 30 knots but the waves remain high, which means that one moment Guppy is in a trough surrounded by water, and the next is on the crests of waves; on a sort of rollercoaster surfing on the swell at enormous speed. A lot of wind is OK, but the high waves are dangerous. The windvane steering system is only just coping, and Guppy is being thrown on her side from time to time. It’s really my fault because I’ve got a little too much sail up in my attempt to reach the San Blas Islands before dark.

  This afternoon, three cargo vessels decide to pass me at the same time. One from ahead, one from astern and one on the beam. Luckily they keep their distance. It’s overcast and it remains that way for the rest of the day. I leave the reef in the mainsail as we’re still doing speeds of above 6 knots. We’ve covered quite a distance during the night, so I’m fairly sure that Guppy will succeed in getting us to the San Blas Islands by daylight tomorrow.

  The heavy clouds and waves that continue to wash over Guppy make it a sombre day. I’m feeling a lot better today and am reading Tijdelijk Adres: Andes, a book by Dutch author Agnita Twigt about her backpacker trip through South America as a young woman.

  How long this day is! The overcast weather makes it seem much later than it actually is. I think of the Netherlands where it’s probably just as sombre and grey. The nightfall takes forever, too, as if it will never get dark. Dad is already fast asleep so I can’t text him now. I’m trying to kill time by reading magazines, eating, walking around and staring at the clock. It’s seven o’clock and still not dark. I think I need to set my clock for the next time zone because it’s almost always light at 06.00 and dark at 18.00 when you’re in the tropics.

  DAY 6: 19 March

  The wind speed has dropped to 20 knots, the sun is not showing itself today and it’s drizzling non-stop. I’m listening on the SSB radio and suddenly hear that someone else is also on his way to the San Blas Islands. I soon realise that I’m picking up the radio net that surrounds the San Blas Islands. I check in and ask if there’s a chance that the wind will ever subside. The answer is no. They ask me whether I’m alone and when I expect to arrive. I speak to all sorts of people and the morning passes by.

  All at once I see the tops of palm trees appear above the waves. The islands are slowly coming into view and there are enormous waves crashing on the reefs. Knowing that I need to enter the lagoon somewhere in between these breakers gives me an unpleasant feeling.

  I see something flash in front of Guppy. It’s a pod of dolphins. Wow! I haven’t seen any for a while. Suddenly one of them does a 3-metre jump just in front of the bow. Awesome! What a pity I don’t have my camera ready, but then I’d probably have missed a jump like that anyway. The dolphins disappear and the enormous breakers get closer. Using the VHF, I ask if anyone is available to pilot me in. I get an immediate response from one of the yachts that’s already safely beyond the reef, and a quarter of an hour later I’m following a dinghy through the maze of reefs and islands and through the narrow gap in the reef into the bay of the Hollandes Cays Kun Yala Isles where a number of yachts are anchored.

  This overcast version of the film set for the Bounty chocolate advert is beautiful, with its little islands, pearly white beaches, crystal-clear waters and the thunder of the breakers in the background. It’s as if I’ve stepped into a travel guide. The only difference is the overcast weather over all this beauty.

  San Blas Islands

  Once I’ve anchored Guppy, I wash my hair (wonderful!) and settle myself in the cockpit to observe my new view. Just when I’m about to prepare a meal, I’m approached by a couple of yachties. They ask me if I’d like to join them and have dinner with my neighbour. Sure . . . that will be great . . . and a quarter of an hour later I’m enjoying the company around a table on a Danish yacht.

  At night, it starts to rain and doesn’t stop. It’s still pouring when I wake up. Listening on the VHF, I hear some chatter about a party the next day. While I’m reading (blush) Donald Duck, some yachties invite me for dinner. They fetch me at five o’clock and we eat on board the Icarian, together with Brian and Marilyn, an elderly Canadian couple who’ve been sailing in the Caribbean for seven years. The food is delicious and my English is sorely tested, even though it has been improving fast since the beginning of the trip. We chat about all sorts of things that evening, but especially about sailing, travelling and our experiences. I don’t get back late as I want time to enjoy the full moon. It’s such an awesome scene — the clouds, the dark, mysterious palm islands, the yachts and . . . Guppy and me.

  In my thoughts, I once again see myself at the age of eight, dreaming of the high seas and the uninhabited islands that I was going to discover in my travels on my boat. Then it was a dream and now I am here. It’s amazing! Even as an eight-year-old I was already looking for adventure. Wandering through cornfields and having sword fights with sticks. I laugh when I consider my simple nature at that age. Even then I was sailing as much as possible, summer and winter, come rain or shine; I was at one with the water. Wearing plenty of clothes, a dry suit and a life-jacket, I was at my happiest when dark clouds passed overhead and waves swept over my little boat. Then I would dream about the big oceans and unknown parts of the world. Nowadays, I’m a little less cheerful when a wave soaks me, but I’m still thrilled at discovering new countries and meeting new people.

  The day starts with rain, but fortunately the sun finally shines through. I’m sitting at the chart table trying to solve some maths problems when the Canadian couple from Icarian come to ask me if I’d like to go snorkelling. I grab my gear and jump into their dinghy. The snorkelling is fantastic and we see turtles, stingrays and starfish. Tonight there’s a party for all the yachts at anchor on one of the little islands. I speak to many different people and they all have a lot of questions. The Kuna Indians who live here are also present. They live in small huts and make beautiful embroidered molas. Three families live on this island. They keep an eye on any pollution and on the coconuts, of course. Coconuts are a means of payment over here. A rich family owns many coconut palms and the coconut is u
sed to barter for anything they need. It’s also prohibited to collect any coconuts on the islands. A funny coconut economy!

  I open my eyes and see . . . maths problems. Sigh. They keep me busy, but I manage to solve them and can now amuse myself. There are now two Dutch yachts anchored near me. They’re both called Pjotter! The owners of the bigger Pjotter were the former owners of the smaller Pjotter. Without planning it that way, they both happened to be sailing around the Caribbean at the same time and have met up unexpectedly. The crew of the smaller Pjotter have come to visit with their two children, Emma and Maxim, who soon discover my stuffed animals, including my Donald Duck. He’s immediately renamed Donald Dekker and I let them have him. Just as they are leaving, Mike and Deana Ruel come by. They’re all people who I met at last night’s party. Mike and Deana come from California, coincidentally from the same town as the Sunderlands. Zac Sunderland held the record for a while for the youngest sailor to have circumnavigated the world. His sister, Abby, wanted to break that record last year. She needed to sail non-stop to do this because of her age, but landed in a heavy storm while crossing the Southern Indian Ocean where her mast was swept overboard and she had to abandon the attempt.