We eat pancakes in the town and hire a car to tour the island. The local authorities have given us free entry to all the tourist attractions. We first drive along the west coast to the north to find a cave somewhere. It’s actually a lava tunnel that was created by underground streams of lava. Once inside you can see this clearly, as some of the walls have been scoured so smooth by the heat that it looks like a plastic passage. At some spots it’s so sharp that you need to take care not to fall and cut yourself. There’s an underground lake in the tunnel that looks just like a mirror because the water is so still and resembles a black hole. This illusion is broken when I throw a stone into it. It’s amazing.
We drive on to El Mirador del Rio at the most northerly point of Lanzarote, with a beautiful view of Grazioza, an island to the north with just one village. According to my childhood television heroes, Bassie and Adriaan, the island resembles a fried egg. I used to watch this comic duo a lot and it’s so special to see the real thing now. Countless birds hover above me and I feel as though I’m one of them, free as a bird. It’s great to be able to see the entire island below us in this way; just like standing on Guppy’s bow and looking out over the endless sea up to the horizon. A few geography lessons richer, we return to Guppy, who has been waiting for her owner patiently all the while.
Now and then I join the Laser group for some sailing, just to be on the water again. I meet all sorts of interesting people, and one of them is José, an older, well-known islander who earns his living with tourists. One of his ventures is canoeing at full moon. He tells me an adventurous story about his sixtieth birthday when he, together with a friend and his dog, surfed on a duo surfboard non-stop for 60 nautical miles.
The time flies and Dad needs to go home again. We check the rudder once more, and he reminds me for the hundredth time that I need to grease it regularly.
‘Yes, Dad, of course,’ I respond each time.
‘And look out for this and don’t forget that,’ he continues.
‘Yes, Dad, sure I will.’ Parents!
I’m woken up by a soft tapping noise. It takes a couple of seconds before I realise that it’s rain. Rain? Although I always close all the hatches at night and don’t leave anything valuable on deck, I get out of bed to check that everything is OK. Now that I’m up, I stay on deck. It’s still very early, but I see several other people shutting hatches and bringing in the washing.
Once I’ve finished my schoolwork, I go outside and try to get onto the internet on my laptop. It’s a lot of trouble and I sometimes succeed, but it’s still raining fairly hard so I go back inside before my laptop drowns. Once inside I see a heap of washing, decide to do something about it and get a token from the harbour office so that I can do the washing and hang it outdoors when the sun comes out tomorrow. It’s still drizzling, and at sunset the puddles turn to gold as they reflect the dying rays of the sun.
The next morning I’m woken at eight by the broiling sun. I get up and am annoyed to discover that there’s no bread. That’s because it rained yesterday and I forgot to get some. Well, that’s what I tell myself. I simply hate muesli, but force it down with a cup of chocolate milk while I do my schoolwork. Once that is done, I haul my dirty washing to the laundrette. When I get back, I hang it neatly over the railing and go to sit in the cockpit. It’s been years since I’ve done the washing in a washing machine. I managed to blow the washing machine at home up a couple of years ago. All I did was fill it with washing, press ‘start’ and after five minutes it just went bang and jumped more than a metre from where it stood! When Dad got home and checked it, he wasn’t amused. Somehow the heating element had got twisted around the tub of the machine. The whole thing had literally fallen apart, all because I’d forgotten to close the lid of the top-loader properly. I give the washing machine at the laundrette a close inspection before pressing ‘start’, and listen for any odd sounds for about 10 minutes before I’m convinced that this will end well.
Mum phoned this afternoon. It’s cold and wet in the Netherlands, she tells me, and she’s got a bad cold. She, my sister and my stepfather have all been ill. Mum doesn’t have too much time to talk. She needs to accompany Kim to a tailor in Almere for costumes for her performance in Geneva at the end of November. My sister is made of rubber and she’s going to perform in a big circus. She’ll be doing a trapeze act with a boy, and it’s going to be broadcast on television.
It’s still boiling hot, but the wind has picked up and it’s overcast. Pleasant weather, you’d think, but I’m sitting in the cabin to avoid getting a mouthful of the desert sand that’s being carried by the wind from the Sahara. I’ve been on Lanzarote for quite some time now and want to leave on Monday. I keep thinking that there’s something happening on Monday and can’t figure out what, until it dawns on me that it’s my birthday! OK, so I’ll have to plan my departure for Tuesday afternoon then and hope to reach Gran Canaria by the following afternoon. I’ve been offered a mooring there at the Pasito Blanco marina for two weeks.
In the evening I have dinner on board a Dutch yacht, Luna Verde, a Contest 50. Wilma and Thijs Viegers want to take three to four years to sail around the world. Their children and grandchildren are there, too. The food is delicious and we talk about all sorts of things . . . About boats and sailing, of course, but loads of other stuff while the kids romp around with a piece of rope they have found, making it impossible to move and finally getting totally tangled in it themselves.
It’s still early when I hear lots of voices and see a large number of big-game fishing boats leave the harbour. There are fishing competitions taking place this weekend. It’s not really my thing to murder innocent fish with fishing rods and hooks. Luckily, they aren’t allowed to bring their catch back to the harbour. Competitors need to take photographs of their catches and then release them. As I said, not my game. But the long line of boats leaving the harbour does look very festive.
There’s a big party in the harbour tonight with lots of performances. There are acrobats and a big band with drums. Cecile is there, too, and asks me if I would like to join the boat that will fire the starting gun. I think it might be fun. The committee boat, which belongs to the new, lightweight, faster class of boats, is slightly bigger than Guppy. I’ve only just boarded when I’m asked to take the helm. It seems I’m the first woman ever to be given this honour. Slowly I manoeuvre the expensive yacht out of the harbour and cruise to where the race begins. The captain then blows the horn and a fleet of who knows how many boats dashes off to who knows where. Once I have reversed the boat — which handles quite differently to my heavier Guppy — neatly into its berth box, I walk back to my own boat. I check my email, read a book, feed myself and fall asleep contentedly.
When I finally open my eyes, I see a huge mess before me and decide it’s time for a spring clean, but where to start? I take a deep breath and decide to tackle the kitchen.
Willem pops in that afternoon and asks whether I’d like to go along for a volcano hike. I accept, and at about five that afternoon walk towards their motor boat that’s tied up to the same jetty. The four of us, Willem, his sister Loet, Gerda and I, visit an extinct volcano that is really impressive. It’s entirely black and I manage to find a rock with a sort of precious-looking green stone embedded in it. It’s an olivine according to Willem, but, unfortunately, not worth much.
After our hike, we go to Thao, a fish restaurant. I try some squid for the first time in my life and am not mad about it. I manage to stomach the rest of the meal, which includes bread and a variety of fish. I’m not really a seafood lover and that hasn’t changed, but I pretend to enjoy it. We then drive home past quiet villages that twinkle in the dark.
It’s 20 September — MY BIRTHDAY!!! I wake up cheerfully and immediately feel it. I’ve turned 15! I bounce out of my bunk and help myself to a slice of birthday cake . . . Ha, ha, in my dreams! In fact, it doesn’t happen quite like that. I’m still half asleep when the phone goes. I answer and a loud ‘Happy Birthday’ thunders
in my ear. It’s my mum and sister. My mum has to go to work and my sister is off to school, which is why they have called so early.
‘We just wanted to make sure we were the first,’ my mum says proudly.
Well, they certainly succeeded on that score. At ten past seven local time, someone from the Belgian Radio phones and then it’s Dad. And all this before eight in the morning. I’m just climbing out of my bunk when my gran and granddad phone. Now I’ve had them all, I think, and start on my schoolwork. Just before I’m finished, Thijs and Wilma from the Luna Verde come by. They’ve brought presents for me. Shower gel, sweets and a lovely photograph taken at a dinner on their boat. How sweet of them to have remembered my birthday!
At half past 11, Sylvia arrives with the local media; something we had agreed on beforehand. She’s brought along a birthday cake, too. After a short chat and photo session with the paparazzi (they never seem to have enough), they all depart. In the meantime, Loet has arrived. She is off to Playa Papagayo today to do some snorkelling and invites me to come along. I quickly grab my things, and we drive to a beautiful beach that’s surrounded on three sides by cliffs. We walk down a steep set of steps to a nice spot. I immediately dive in and am enchanted as beautifully coloured fish shoot past the rocks underwater.
While we are on the beach enjoying the sun, Loet has an idea and invites me to come and cook in her apartment. Yeah, why not? At the Hyperdino, the local supermarket, we buy steak, veggies and potatoes, and cook a delicious meal. When Loet takes me back to Guppy at about 10, we decide to sneak into a five-star hotel just to take a look. It’s incredibly posh, with a number of swimming pools set in what looks like a jungle. The glass revolving doors are so clean that I accidentally walk into one. Ouch!
I get up at 07.00. I will be leaving Lanzarote today, but still have a few things to do; such as writing up my blog, emailing the marina at Pasito Blanco and, of course, saying goodbye to everyone here. It will take only 24 hours to sail to Gran Canaria, and all I need to do in terms of preparation is to check the rigging and see that all the valves and hatches are closed securely. Most importantly, I mustn’t forget to put the plug in the sink. If you fail to do this and the boat starts to roll, you have a good chance of a saltwater bed. This happened to me when I made the crossing to England for the first time on little Guppy, and I’ve learnt my lesson.
Two hours later I’m ready to cast off the mooring lines. I cruise out of the Marina Rubicon and say farewell to Lanzarote and everyone there. It’s time for new islands, new adventures and new faces. I’m ready for the next stage of my voyage.
Lanzarote–Gran Canaria: 130 nautical miles
DAY 1: 21 September
It’s great to be back on the water. It’s as hot as hell today and there’s almost no wind when I leave. Guppy is bobbing and weaving through the water at 1 knot towards Gran Canaria. Fortunately, the wind picks up steadily. I’m standing on the bow and the wind is blowing through my hair. Guppy shoots through the water and is soon running at around 6 knots.
That evening, Guppy sails across the reflection of the full moon in the water. Stunning! From a distance of 40 miles, I begin to see the lights of my next destination. There’s a glare along the coast and it takes me half an hour to realise that it’s a motorway. I’m sitting in the cockpit enjoying the view, when I feel a few drops of water. I ask myself if it’s seawater or rain and the question is answered quickly. As soon as I move from under the bimini top, I’m soaked. I’d had a feeling that something was in store for me, and I had dropped the mizzen. I check to see that there’s nothing valuable on deck, hang the transparent flap over the cabin entrance and shelter inside until the downpour is over.
It’s still dark when I sail past the Maspalomas lighthouse and into the harbour of Pasito Blanco. I’m alarmed when I see that the boats are tied up bow to moorings, stern to jetty. I’ve never tried this before, and certainly not on my own. I can’t find the arrival jetty and decide to tie up alongside a decrepit, blue catamaran that looks as though it’s about to sink. It’s a few hours before sunrise, so I dive into my sleeping bag and soon fall asleep.
Gran Canaria
There’s a big surprise in store for me when I wake up. I arrived in the dark, but now see that I’m surrounded by tall, green mountains, totally different to the dry, black Lanzarote landscape. I call up the harbour authorities on the VHF and am instructed to sail to the other side of the harbour. The arrival jetty is a high concrete structure. I walk to the harbour office with my ship’s papers and am allocated a berth. They’re very friendly and help me to moor the boat. We’ve only just tied Guppy up when the heavens open. Yuck! I had wanted to explore my new surroundings, but decide to do my schoolwork instead. I do some extra work and have already completed some tests. My results include 90 per cent for German and 80 per cent for biology. Not bad, hey?
I’m busy calculating how many miles I still need to cover and what lies ahead of me, when two Dutch men arrive to paste a sticker on Guppy. Jongert is one of my sponsors and I’d had some problems with their sticker in Gibraltar. Together we work out how it’s done, and they invite me to join them for dinner. We drive to Maspalomas, and I’m impressed by what I see on the way, although it’s dark by now. Not only is it much greener than Lanzarote, but the mountains are much higher, the towns larger and it’s much busier and less volcanic. It’s a pleasant meal, and as they drive me back to Guppy I realise that I’m exhausted, having had only one hour’s sleep in the past 37 hours.
By the next morning, the rain has stopped and I find a small Spar supermarket in the harbour. I’m shocked when they charge me €2,36 for a French loaf. That’s way too expensive, but they don’t have any other bread. They won’t catch me doing that again. The French loaf is not even nice, and it’s as though you’re eating money.
It’s hot and calm again today. I love the warmth, but it does make me feel dozy. A friend who lives close to us in the Netherlands and spends his winters on Gran Canaria, Ed Willems, is picking me up at 10 to show me a bit of the island. We drive along the coast and past some huts and villages in the mountains. We stop at a village in the middle of nowhere, have something to drink and walk to a reservoir. Unfortunately, the restaurant we were planning to stop at has just been taken over by a bunch of tourists and we make our escape.
After enjoying a Coke, we continue to climb to the top along twisting roads. Here there is another reservoir. We have something to eat and start our descent to Puerto Mogán, past mountains that are red, blue, purple, yellow and orange. An unbelievable sight! It looks like they’ve let a child loose with a box of crayons, but in fact it’s the minerals — phosphorus, iron and others — in the rocks that give them their tints.
Virtually everything is new to me; the heat, the traditions, the palm trees. Lanzarote had its own beauty, but Gran Canaria is much prettier with its tall, rugged mountains, green valleys and small Spanish villages.
A few days later I’m climbing along winding roads again with a friend. After a stop to go to the toilet at a messy pub, we arrive at the highest village on Gran Canaria. Artenara lies at an altitude of 1270 metres, and most of the houses are half built into the mountain. It even has a swimming pool and football field. We carry on driving along the endless mountain roads through a rugged landscape.
After passing many tiny villages tucked into the mountains, we eventually get to an old, deep volcanic crater. I run up the slope to the top in my flip-flops and it feels great to be standing there on my own. I have a view of the whole island and even manage to see the Teide, a mountain on Tenerife that’s always topped with snow. While I’m standing there, I realise that I’m finally beginning to feel myself again. It’s taken some time, but I’d had so much to contend with in the Netherlands. The authorities, organisations that distorted the truth in their reports, journalists who blithely accepted the lies from the authorities, hearings behind closed doors after which a totally different version was brought out. All this while I exerted myself day and night to g
et everything organised for my voyage. Sponsors that quit because of all the commotion that had been created, and of course I needed to continue going to school. And then, suddenly, I found myself sailing from Gibraltar and I was finally on my own — something I had to get used to at first. I’d even felt a little lonely, which was new for me. It all went so fast; one moment I was in the midst of a crowd all talking to me at the same time and the next — whoosh — I was transported to a jungle in another part of the world. I feel the anxiety ebbing away quickly, and it leaves me feeling terrific.
The harbour where I’m moored is fairly quiet, remote and secure. It’s only really busy in the weekends. At night, I enjoy Guppy’s gentle swaying, the soft sound of the wind and the stars that are so much brighter than in the Netherlands. If I need to, I can contact Dad and my friends within seconds. It’s funny, but I’m never really bored on my own. There’s always something to do; reading, taking photographs, swimming, repairs, schoolwork, cooking and cleaning Guppy. These sorts of things don’t feel like duties; they’re just part of life.
It’s 26 September. I call Mum in the morning because she turns 50 today. I then tidy Guppy, answer my emails and receive all sorts of gifts from strangers who seem to like the fact that I’m in the harbour in Pasito Blanco; a bracelet, a packet of sweets, some newspapers and later an ice cream and some chocolates. It’s amazing really, I’m in a closed, guarded harbour and still people manage to find me. It often reassures me, but also makes me uneasy at times. I even find a book wrapped up in plastic on the jetty one day. There’s no one around, so I take it inside; it’s a book about sailing written by Connor O’Brien. Later, when I read my blog’s guest book, I see that it’s meant for me.
Just then, I hear my name being called. It’s the De Bruyn family. A Dutch family who moved here a couple of years ago. Mrs De Bruyn works on a dolphin boat for tourists, and they had sent me an email asking me whether I would like to make contact. The whole family is present; Reggy, Antonio and their 16- and 17-year-old sons, Didier and Beau, who are so shy that they don’t utter a word during the entire visit. The captain of the Spirit of the Sea, the dolphin boat, has also come along and I’m invited to go on a trip to view the dolphins. That should be fun!
One Girl One Dream Page 5
