I’m a little worried about the helm. It has a strange tremor and there’s too much play. Luckily, Gup also has a tiller that I can use to steer. The problem is that if the helm gets stuck, the rudder also seizes up. Should I remove the steering cables and use the tiller to steer Guppy? Fortunately the windvane is connected directly to the tiller, which means that the helm is not that vital.
It’s a beautiful, clear, warm day, but when will the birds finally leave? The sun is setting by the time they make their departure, leaving Guppy under another load of bird shit. There’s still some wind, too little for windvane steering but enough to sail. There are also some clouds. Does this mean I may have wind tomorrow? Guppy is not really gaining fast on Henk’s little Sogno d’Oro, and I don’t really want to know what distance she’s covered today. I can only guess that it’s been depressingly little. I’m still having fun cleaning bird shit and thinking of a solution for the helm. I think that the bearing around the steering shaft has become corroded and broken. I try to fix it and it seems to work, but it’s a very temporary solution. Another problem is that the foot of the genoa is slowly withering under the effects of the sun’s UV rays. There are an increasing number of small tears and I try to stitch and tape them together.
In the meantime, I’ve started making a note of all the important coordinates in the Torres Strait. You never know when they will come in handy. The notorious Torres Strait is a passage between Australia and Papua New Guinea that divides the Pacific and Indian Oceans. It’s also the end of the famous Great Barrier Reef. The problem with reefs is that you don’t see the actual reef until you’re almost on top of it, and the coral heads sink you on the spot if you hit one. It’s going to mean being watchful and probably not sleeping for two days. And that’s not only because of the reef; it’s also a busy shipping route and I’m expecting a lot of cargo ship traffic.
The longer I study the chart with all the reefs and islands and all the currents, the more I realise that this is a difficult stretch of water. It’s going to be a challenge again, but one I’ll be able to manage, given fair weather. In any case, Guppy has another 1300 miles to go before I get there.
DAY 4: 12 August
I spend the whole night waiting for wind. It doesn’t arrive, and I eventually have to switch on the engine when Guppy becomes difficult to steer. In the morning, there’s some wind at last and I’m doing between 4 and 5 knots. It’s cloudy and the clouds look strange. I haven’t a clue what it means, but they are low, puffy clouds that are hanging like a blanket all around me. Could this mean more wind? Hmm, not: I now have a 3-knot following breeze.
I switch on the SSB and chat to some of my fellow-sufferers. Most of the ones I know are still in French Polynesia and Tonga. The closest yacht is Sogno d’Oro, which is more than 260 miles away and moving further and further afield. Henk is enjoying good winds and sailing at 5 knots. Damn, why is the wind hiding beyond the horizon? Am I going to experience Guppy sailing at 6 knots before getting to Darwin at the beginning of September? Shouting, talking, pleading — none of it really helps. There’s another 1875 miles to go to Darwin.
Bleep, bleep . . . Dad texts me that I can expect some wind in about six hours’ time. He’s following my progress closely and forwarding all the weather charts and updates he can find. I’d checked my own weather charts and needed nobody to tell me that I was floating in the only calm spot between Vanuatu and the Torres Strait.
The western horizon has been dark all day and I’m watching three mega-squalls in the distance. They have been hanging around for hours and I keep a watchful eye on them. A squall can sweep over Guppy at a speed of 35 knots within moments, and I need to reduce sail before they envelop me.
DAY 5: 13 August
There’s wind behind the squalls and they create some motion at last. I rush to drop the mizzen, furl in the genoa and continue sailing on mainsail and storm jib. The squalls come over me one by one until about two in the morning, and the wind is changeable. At times it starts to shift and then drops away again . . . I hoist the mizzen again and unfurl the genoa. It seems to get calmer. Guppy stays on course with the windvane and I steal a few hours’ sleep. Towards morning, there’s a good wind and Guppy is running at 7 knots. The bits of tape that I used to protect the foot of the genoa are now hanging in tatters on the rigging, sigh . . .
There’s some sun in the afternoon. I’m increasingly worried about the genoa. There’s a new tear and it’s getting bigger and bigger. Please, genoa, hold on for at least another 1800 miles!
The start of the Torres Strait is less than a thousand miles ahead of us, and it looks like I’ll be approaching it with very little moonlight. A pity, because I can’t even see Guppy’s bow from the cockpit in the dark sometimes when there’s no moon at sea.
DAY 6: 14 August
There’s a strong wind from the quarter and I’m asking myself if I should boom out the genoa on the high side or not. The waves are building up with some annoying cross-seas. Guppy is surfing off the top of them from time to time, which is a lovely sight. I’m sitting below reading after a breakfast of cornflakes, when I hear an oncoming roar. At the same moment, poor Guppy is thrown completely on her side. I fly through the cabin and make a hard landing against the bookcase on the low side. I hear the boomed-out genoa swing out with a bang, and the cockpit fills with water. When I get to my feet and sprint on deck, I see all sorts of loose bits floating away. I think of what I had out in the cockpit: a towel, my favourite mug, a book, a screwdriver and probably lots more that’s now sinking towards Neptune. I hope he enjoys them.
The windvane soon has everything under control again and Guppy sails on. While the water runs out of the cockpit, I ask myself what could have caused such an enormous wave. Is it a taste of things to come? I’m beginning to be apprehensive about the Torres Strait where the two oceans meet and where the sea isn’t much deeper than 20 metres. I’m going to have to stay awake for at least 48 hours to get past a mass of reefs and islands and deal with a strong current. On the other hand, I also see it as a challenge. At the Torres Strait, I’ll be leaving the Pacific Ocean behind me and ending another chapter of my voyage. After brooding over the Torres Strait, I listen to the SSB radio channel and hear Kiwi for the first time; a ship that I saw in Tahiti and Tonga. The reception is poor and we don’t get much further than ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’. Other acquaintances don’t manage to get through at all because of atmospheric interference, but tomorrow is another day . . .
It starts getting dark and I make supper. It’s going to be a mix of soup with spaghetti and bread. It’s surprisingly nice. I go and sit on the chart table, wedging myself against the steps while the music plays. I study the steam rising off the little islands of bread in the brown sea in my spoon and burn my tongue with the first mouthful!
I was feeling listless today but am a lot more cheerful now. It’s going well and Guppy is almost flying! She is now going at more than 7 knots, which means that the Torres Strait is approaching very fast; something that I anticipate with mixed feelings. I’m leaving the lovely blue Pacific and a huge part of my voyage behind, while a new part is about to begin. I’m very curious about what to expect after everything I’ve read about the Torres Strait. It’s another 700 miles until the first reefs, so I’ve a few days to give my imagination free rein.
DAY 7: 15 August
An email from Dad refers to the weekend, but here on Gup there’s nothing to remind me of what day of the week it is. It surprises me that I actually know it’s Monday today. It’s a beautiful day with lots of sun, a clear blue sky and a pleasant 28 degrees. The enormous cross-seas are still present, but they don’t worry Guppy, who cheerfully cuts right across them at a good 7 knots. A cargo ship passes us and it’s going to get steadily busier the closer we get to the Torres Strait.
The batteries are running lower and lower and I can’t find the cause. What’s using so much current? I check everything, including the fridge. I find a forgotten cucumber, or rather what’s
left of it. I always switch off this power-guzzler as soon as I leave the harbour, as Guppy needs the current for her navigation lights and instruments.
I replace a windvane steering line that runs through a block that’s too small, and climb up the mast to take some photographs. Looking down from here, I discover that my feathered visitors have left behind even more shit than I had bargained for. The solar panels are covered in a thick layer. Well, I have my work cut out for me because the panels will generate little electricity in this condition and I really need them for the radar and the navigation lights. I can just reach them by balancing on the railing, and I scrub every centimetre clean.
Just as I’m finished and turn around, a big buoy floats past. A buoy?! Escaped from somewhere? Is it dragging a net? Have I sailed through it? But Guppy thunders on regardless, and the buoy disappears within minutes. The SSB reception is still bad, but I’ve at least managed to get the weather forecast after some trouble. An 18- to 20-knot south-easterly wind is forecast for the next two to three days. Hey, that’s not bad! I’ve got back into my daily rhythm and am feeling great. Although I’m not looking forward to the Torres Strait after all I’ve read about it, I am looking forward to getting to Darwin, as Dad and Jillian will be joining me and I plan to stay there for about three weeks. I’ll celebrate my sixteenth birthday there and will no doubt hear all the news from the home front.
DAY 8: 16 August
The Echomax, my active radar reflector, is blinking constantly. This means that there are ships within a radius of 30 miles. It’s heavily overcast, with a few drops of rain, and it looks like there is more rain on the horizon. The enormous cross-seas are still present, with high waves that are throwing poor Guppy all over the place. It’s difficult to do the simplest job on my runaway rocking horse . . . The easiest tasks on land become an enormous challenge on board, such as cooking, eating, going to the toilet and navigating. But Guppy is going really fast and that makes up for a lot. Sitting on the taff rail at the back, it’s great to see how Guppy cleaves through the waves and shakes off buckets of water on all sides. It’s 380 miles to the Torres Strait and I’m approaching it quickly now. The shipping traffic is getting busier. There’s another big ship passing me, and I can count three more on the radar. I’m also catching up with Sogno d’Oro fast and the distance between us is now 110 miles. I wonder if I’ll catch up with Henk before the Torres Strait.
DAY 9: 17 August
It’s a lot calmer at night, but it stays dark in the morning and Guppy is surrounded by threatening black clouds. The anticipated mega-squall doesn’t appear, but the turbulence associated with squalls does, which is why the wind suddenly fills the wrong side of the genoa and I’m fighting with the spinnaker boom. I pump up the volume of the music and perform a sun dance on deck. It helps! Slowly the clouds disappear and eventually the sun comes through. In the meantime, the wind has shifted to my least favourite direction: a following wind. Guppy is still doing 5.5 knots, so I’m not complaining. But I wouldn’t mind a bit of rain so that I can have my first freshwater shower in two weeks. Everything, but everything, is covered in salt.
I’m now really close to the shipping lane and the first reefs of the Torres Strait, and I’m extremely curious about what I will find there. Two oceans come together in this region, which is full of reefs, and this gives rise to very strong currents. I’m hoping to be rid of these cross-seas at least once I’m behind the reefs. I throw dozens of small flying fish overboard as I walk to the foredeck to stitch up some of the new tears in the genoa.
Now that the sun is shining and the solar panels are generating more power, I decide to charge my laptop and check my SailMail. I’ve received three emails and one of them is from my mother. She tells me she has plans to go to Gran Canaria for her holiday and I wonder if she doesn’t secretly plan to move there, too. Just like Dad and Kim, she’s not really happy in the Netherlands and is restless. It seems as though we are all, each in his or her own way, trying to leave the Netherlands; Mum by moving, and Dad by finishing his new ship, the Havørn, with which he is making progress by all accounts. Dad left his heart in the Pacific on his previous world voyage, and as soon as he has completed his ship he’ll be going back there for sure. Does it make any sense for me to return to a country that treated me and my parents so terribly? I don’t actually want to leave the Pacific behind me so soon; I feel at home here, and it feels bad to leave this beautiful ocean behind me. But here’s a thought to cheer me up: so long as I keep travelling in a westerly direction, I’m likely to land in the Pacific again, and next time I definitely won’t sail past the country of my birth!
DAY 10: 18 August
In the corner of my eye, I see another one coming: a flying fish that finds it necessary to land on deck. There are sailors who eat them. They are apparently tasty with a little lemon juice, but they don’t look all that appetising to me. Most of the fish I find are so small you’d only be chewing on bones, anyway.
Sogno d’Oro is sailing 22 miles ahead of me and it’s only 50 miles to the shipping lane and the first reefs. From there it’s another 100 miles before I turn Guppy into the real Torres Strait which is a further 170 miles long. But even here I need to be alert. A look at the chart shows me that there are more reefs than water here and they are strewn with shipwrecks.
The wind is back with a vengeance and Guppy is galloping at more than 7 knots. I’m running downwind, but I’m managing well with a boomed-out genoa. While it’s still possible, I’m trying to get as much sleep and rest as I can, as I think there will be precious little opportunity for that in the coming days. This crossing is actually going much more quickly than I expected.
DAY 11: 19 August
Sogno d’Oro’s light is coming slowly closer, but I still can’t see the contours of the boat. We chat via the VHF and eventually say good night. Guppy’s speed is 2 knots faster and by morning the little light has disappeared behind me.
At 23.00, I reach the shipping lane. Fortunately, there are only a few cargo ships, but I’m still having to contend with a strong 25-knot wind from astern. The sea is getting shallower here and the currents are coming from all sides, making the waves even bigger. It’s only 70 metres deep instead of the 3 miles Guppy is used to, and it’s getting shallower still . . . Bligh’s Entrance, the start of the Torres Strait, is still 30 miles off, so I should get there by daylight. Henk is now sailing a few miles behind me, and I see his green boat faintly when I peer hard through my binoculars.
I grab the genoa to stitch it up for the umpteenth time and find something to keep the helm in place. The shaft seems to be working further out of its broken bearing, and I fear that it could drop out at any moment. I’ve attached the tiller extension, just in case, and have the pliers handy for pulling the split pins from the steering cables.
In the meantime, Guppy races into the Torres Strait at more than 7.5 knots. There are reefs everywhere, but I see nothing as it’s slowly getting darker. In the last daylight, I see the contours of the first island that I need to round, and then Guppy needs to sail close-hauled. Is this going to work or do I need to tack? Guppy has a reefed mainsail and genoa, and is cleaving straight through the waves with tons of water washing over the deck. The genoa is having a hard time. The foot of the sail disappears underwater regularly and I’m seriously worried about it lasting the night.
Rtttschhh . . . I hear a loud tearing noise. Oh, shit! I don’t even need to look. Switching on the deck light I see exactly what I expected — a mega-tear in the genoa. I grab my camera and, before I know it, the sun-weathered genoa tears into strips that flap noisily. There’s nothing more I can do except take the torn genoa pieces in and unfurl the small jib, because Guppy has to continue sailing through the many invisible reefs. The speed hardly drops and Guppy lifts her nose and pounds on regardless. And so we thunder on through the night, passing island after island, reef after reef and light after light.
Now that I’m sailing here, I can’t wait to get out of this hornets’
nest and back into the open sea ahead with more clearance under Guppy’s keel. In some places between the reefs it’s really narrow and there are a lot of big cargo ships with crews who don’t speak a word of English, which doesn’t make navigating or communicating any easier. I’ve really left the Pacific behind me now; the biggest ocean with its beautiful islands to which I’ll certainly be returning. I’m now beginning to wonder about the Arafura Sea and what the Indian Ocean will be like.
DAY 12: 20 August
At dawn, all the little lights around me change into islands. The wind has dropped a little and Guppy is sailing over azure blue water. It’s only 13 metres deep here. I take the reef out of the mainsail and get ready for the last hurdle of the Torres Strait: the Prince of Wales Channel.
It’s 09.00 hours, I’m in the middle of the Prince of Wales Channel and my fingers are itching to use the spare genoa, but I have my hands full just navigating. I’ve dug the spare genoa out of the forward compartment that’s moving up and down, and have put the huge sail on my bed. It’s beautiful weather and I can see Australia on the horizon. It’s unbelievable! I’ve crossed the Pacific Ocean, am almost through the Torres Strait and can see the Australian coastline ahead of me! Tears of joy are running down my cheeks. Guppy, I love you!!! On a long crossing like this I usually take it one step at a time, stage by stage, and now I’ve reached Down Under; well, almost. That really is a long, long way from where I began. If we just carry on sailing west, we’ll get to New Zealand eventually. Guppy confirms this with an extra-deep dive into the next wave, sending a shower over me that ensures I’m now dripping water and fully awake. Yes, Gup, we can do it! With music playing full blast, I sail past Wednesday, Thursday and Friday Islands. I’ve come through the Torres Strait unscathed, have sighted the Australian coast and have entered a new sea! My head is spinning, and after a sleepless 48 hours I use my last bit of energy to do a little victory dance and ask Guppy how it feels. FANTASTIC! I don’t care that a carton of apple juice has just flown through the cabin and splashed everywhere, that the dishes have landed on the floor, that my bed is wet and salty, that my genoa is torn and that the steering wheel is about to drop off. Yes! Sailing over a light blue sea is so lovely! Booby Island nears and then passes by, like a lost rock in a bright blue world.
One Girl One Dream Page 25