The first book about me, written by my gran, has just been published and I’ve received a copy. At the time she was writing it, I didn’t really appreciate what she was doing for me; I just wanted to sail, but now I’m very grateful that she went to so much trouble to describe some of the behaviour of the Dutch authorities. She writes about the actions that were all intended to prohibit me from sailing. Unfortunately, the book doesn’t record the worst incidents because we were still involved in various court cases at the time of publishing.
When I wake up at eight, I lie in a little. I then tackle my schoolwork; there’s a lot to cover because I do yesterday’s homework and tomorrow’s too. Then the phone starts to ring. It takes me a while before I understand what Grimanesa, a woman on the island who works for a jeweller, is trying to tell me. From her ‘Spanglish’, I manage to understand the words ‘bananas’ and ‘Spar’. Do they want to bring bananas? Yes, that’s it. Within 15 minutes, there’s a big bunch of bananas and a box of fruit in the cockpit. Totally amazed and wondering what to do with all this fruit, I sit next to a bunch of bananas that’s as big as I am. I decided to hang the green bunch of bananas on the solar panel rack. It’s quite a struggle and some of the bananas don’t survive the onslaught. An hour later, I proudly survey the bunch that’s now suspended from the rack, and start thinking what I’ll do with them when they all ripen at the same time.
I wake up the following morning shocked to see that it’s already half past eight. HALF PAST EIGHT! Shit, I have to be at the gateway by nine for the dolphin boat trip! What I actually feel like doing at this point is eating something and checking my emails in peace. But that’s not to be. Getting anywhere on time still isn’t one of my strong points. I hastily gobble down a sandwich and start to walk to the boom where Antonio and Beau are waiting for me in the most rickety Renault I have ever seen.
‘Yes, it makes a bit of a racket. Take no notice. You can’t use the safety belts either. That’s because the sun has weathered them.’
Right, I think to myself, as we start our journey along the coastal road to Puerto Rico. There we board the Spirit of the Sea where Reggy works. After having a photograph taken with the whole crew, we depart with a half-full boat. Gran Canaria becomes smaller and smaller as we cruise out to sea, and after about an hour and a half we are relayed the position of some dolphins. There are just two of them and they don’t surface very often. The rest of the time I sit on the bow with Beau who is still very shy but a little more talkative than before, even though I have to drag every word out of him. We have more luck on the second round and see a pod of five dolphins playing in the sea.
When we return to the harbour at about three that afternoon and the tourists have disembarked, we drive to the De Bruyn family home. I say hello to their third son, who lives in the Netherlands, via Skype. It’s hot here with no wind, unlike the boat, and I need to get used to the heat. We eat genuine Canary Island potatoes, cooked in their skins, and a ‘mojo’ dip (a sweetish, red sauce made locally) and Canary Island chicken. It’s simply delicious and the company is great. They also invite me to tie Guppy up at one of their moorings once I have to move from the sponsored berth at the marina. That’s really cool, as I can’t afford to pay for the marina.
Bang, clatter, splash! WTF! I shoot upright, banging my head against the ceiling of the bunk and run outside only half awake. The heavy bunch of bananas has come loose and is now lying in the water behind Guppy. I struggle to haul it back on board and leave this menace on the afterdeck for the time being.
At half past 10, Ido van Oost comes to fetch me. He’s a Dutchman who has lived on the island for years and wants to meet me, so no time for schoolwork today. Not such a disaster as it’s Sunday. Together with Ido and his wife, Dedy, we first visit friends of theirs and then go on to Cita, a local shopping mall. Here we have a feast of herring, white bread and hutspot (a traditional Dutch dish made from mashed potatoes, carrots and onions with gravy) with 75 members of the Dutch community on the island. It’s in honour of the Leids Ontzet (the Relief of Leiden — celebrating the end of the siege of this Dutch city by the Spanish in 1575 during the Eighty Year War). It feels really strange to be celebrating this in temperatures of 25 degrees Celsius. It’s also strange to hear that Gran Canaria once belonged to the Netherlands for exactly one week in the distant past.
During this gathering of the Nederlandse Vereniging (Dutch Association), I meet Thomas and his wife. I feel I know them from somewhere . . . After a while the penny drops and I remember that I met them on one of my solo-sailing holidays when I was 11. That was four years ago when I was on little Guppy. What a coincidence! I must have made an impression at the time because they could recall our meeting vividly.
At about six, I’m back on Gup and she’s still a mess. I decide to do the dishes, tidy up, vacuum clean and try to solve my electrical problem. Through my own fault, the cable got jammed between the boat and the jetty and has torn. I’m going to have to shorten the cable and put a new plug on the end of it. I don’t have one in stock, of course, so I ask my French neighbours if they have a spare and they give me one. It’s fixed within minutes and — voilà — I once again have power.
It’s half past one, and Grimanesa and a few of her colleagues from the jewellery store, Joy Artesana, should be arriving at any moment. They’ve invited me to go for a meal with all the staff and they arrive at two. I show them Guppy, and we drive to a restaurant that resembles what would be called a shed in the Netherlands. We are surrounded by feral cats begging for food. They seem to be successful, as none of them look underfed.
We once again eat Canary Island potatoes with ‘mojo’ sauce; I love them. We also have a messy grilled fish complete with tail and eyes, and once again I’m faced with squid — this time in a macaroni dish. I carefully sift out the macaroni and leave the squid for the rest to eat. When we have finished the meal, I receive a gift: it’s a necklace they’ve made especially for me. I’m totally overwhelmed. It has a pendant with the Guppy emblem on it. I’ve never seen anything so lovely. I thank them a hundred times and can’t get over the fact that it was made especially for me. Most of the staff go back to work, and I proudly show Guppy my new necklace when I get back.
When I step on deck, I find a note from a diving school, Let’s Go Diving: Hello Laura, I have a diving school in Pasito Blanco. If you’d like, I’m happy to offer you a dive, free of charge. Just give me a call. Great! That’s going to be so cool. I phone them immediately.
‘If you want, you can come tomorrow,’ he says.
‘OK, awesome!’
‘At two at our boat?’
‘Sure, I’ll be there!’
Totally excited, I hang up and tell Dad all about it on Skype a little later. He ends up giving me a long explanation about how to dive and tells me to keep my wits about me. Mum and Dad did a lot of diving on their voyage around the world and know all about the potential dangers. I promise to take care and not do anything stupid.
The next afternoon we go out to sea and I have my first diving lesson with my instructor. It’s so beautiful underwater, and totally different to the dark, muddy waters in the Netherlands. I see the living versions of what I’ve been eating; an octopus with tentacles covered in little suction cups and a number of squid. Looking at these pretty and intelligent creatures, I resolve never to eat one again. But then I’d already decided that after my first bite because I really didn’t enjoy it. When we get back, I decide that I’m going to go for my diving certificate, and now regularly sit and read all about diving from an instruction CD on my laptop.
I’m on my way to Las Palmas to go to the airport with Ido again. This time Dad is coming over to install some new gadgets. The plane has already landed when we arrive, and a stream of pale Dutch tourists come through the arrival gates with all their luggage, but there’s no sign of Dad. We wait, and wait, and wait. He eventually emerges as one of the last passengers. It’s taken so long because he’s brought so much baggage, including a new rada
r. The old radar on Guppy still wasn’t working as it should, and the local agent couldn’t solve the problem. This needs to be solved before I can continue, as it’s no fun sailing without one. The alarm should give me warning about oncoming ships and it wasn’t doing so. So Dad has bought a brand-new radar which we’re going to install on Guppy.
It’s beginning to get hot as we drag the supplies on board. I can’t wait to open all the presents that Dad has brought: a brightly coloured code zero sail, a plotter and masses of cables, flex and — wow — a new rudder blade for the windvane and two spare blades. The cockpit is full of gadgets — and not only the cockpit. Once Dad has gone inside, there’s no way I can follow him for all the clutter. Just when I’ve taken so much trouble to tidy everything!
Dad only has three days, so we work hard to get things done. We install the new radar in the mast and its cables, fit a stainless-steel strip on the bow and fit a new anchor-chain roller. We add blocks in the mast for the new code zero, to help me hoist the sail if necessary. After three days of non-stop work, I survey all of Guppy’s new gadgets and smile. Everything is shipshape and I can’t thank Dad enough when I accompany him back to the airport with Ido.
‘So when are you starting off again?’ is the question the landlubbers ask me often. I can only make the crossing at the end of November when the hurricane season has ended. Many people are under the impression that the most dangerous part of my journey is crossing the Atlantic Ocean. They don’t realise that sailing along coastlines, islands with their rocks, reefs and currents, busy shipping routes and entering unknown harbours is all far more hazardous than the open sea.
I have chosen a route around the world that’s much more difficult than a non-stop voyage across the oceans, and in this way I’m going to be seeing much more of the world. I have two years in which to complete my voyage, so I’m not in a hurry and am certainly not going to risk a hurricane. The advantage is that I now have plenty of time on Gran Canaria and can get ahead of my schoolwork schedule, take diving lessons and, as I’m planning to do today, go on a hike into the mountains.
I’m ready by half past eight. The hiking enthusiasts have gathered in the parking area and I’m sure it’s going to be a lot of fun. We drive up the mountains and then hike around Roque Nublo. I’m not fond of walking, but it’s very beautiful. Gran Canaria continues to surprise me. One moment you’re in a desert landscape that looks like the Sahara, and the next you arrive at a lake in a pine forest. Even at these altitudes, I’m recognised by passing tourists. Hmm . . .
In exchange for having had a free berth in the harbour of Pasito Blanco, I have agreed to talk to some local journalists on my last day here. After a few interviews, I sail Guppy to Anfi, where Reggy, Beau and the captain of the Spirit of the Sea are waiting for me in their dinghy to point out the mooring they have offered me.
I wake up at seven the next morning, and by eight o’clock decide to get up as it’s Saturday and the locals take to the water in anything that floats. They seem to have just discovered Guppy . . . Spanish boats pass me regularly and their occupants cheerfully start talking to me in Spanish, of which I don’t understand a word, and then take photos before moving on. There’s also a Belgian film crew that’s interested in doing some filming and, as this has been set up beforehand, I help them to load everything on Guppy. I’m not happy when they ask me to sail for 20 minutes as it means raising the anchor, which I certainly don’t feel like doing, but then they offer to help and I give in.
That evening we have a meal on the boulevard and I bump into my friends Beau and Didier, as I often do at spots on the beach where there’s good WiFi reception from a hotel. The beach is long and white, which is seldom the case on the Canary Islands, as most of the beaches have black lava sand. The big Hotel Anfi had hoped to create its own white, private beach by shipping over tons of white sand from the Caribbean. Unfortunately for the hotel, the beaches here are all public beaches, so even if they’ve created it themselves, everyone has access to it and is able to enjoy this long, white beach.
Early the next morning, I’m fetched for my diving exam. After a few beautiful dives, including a dive down to a wreck, I pass my exam and am now certified to dive anywhere in the world.
Now and again, the De Bruyn family ask me for dinner and slowly Beau and Didier lose their reserve and talk to me. In the beginning they looked at me as though I was some rare creature . . .
After being anchored at Anfi for some time, I’m offered a sponsored spot in the Puerto de Mogán harbour; a beautiful, less touristy harbour situated amongst the mountains. I’m allowed to stay here for 10 days to attract publicity for this harbour, and that works out well for me. My mum and sister, Kim, who weren’t able to say farewell to me before my departure, are arriving the following day. They were away on holiday when I left and now want to see me before I leave Gran Canaria. It’s much easier for them to come on board if I’m in a harbour.
I’m impressed when the management welcomes me at the marina and shows me to a quiet spot far from the tourist shops. I moor Guppy between two other boats with her stern to the jetty and the bow to a mooring. Close to me is the yacht of a Dutch couple who are on the point of going out for a pizza. They ask me to join them. Despite having enjoyed a pizza the day before, I jump at the chance and it’s a lively meal.
The manager of the hotel across from Guppy comes by and invites me to use their swimming pool and also take breakfast at the hotel. This is so cool! Fresh eggs and croissants every morning, yum! Although I’ve just arrived at Puerto de Mogán, I go back to Anfi at about noon. Not with Guppy this time, but by the ferry that cruises along the coast. In Anfi, I go swimming with Beau, and that evening we all watch television at his home. It’s good to find myself in the heart of a family again. That’s something I sometimes miss on Guppy; enjoying meals together, watching television, talking and having a good discussion.
My mum and sister arrive today and I wait for them at the airport. I haven’t seen them for half a year, but they haven’t changed a bit. Kim’s hair is longer and it suits her, and my mum is just as clumsy as ever. I advise her to rent a car. In fact, I had suggested we do so in the emails we exchanged the previous week, so I’m totally surprised when she tells me she may not have her driver’s licence on her. We empty half her handbag at the airport and manage to find it, or what’s left of it. Sigh. Nothing has changed. We manage to rent a little black car and head for Puerto de Mogán. It’s a journey of more than an hour and they hadn’t expected that, so I’m constantly hearing: ‘Are we almost there?’ And at almost every harbour: ‘Isn’t that Guppy?’
As we approach the last harbour, Kim cheers: ‘Hey, that really is Guppy! We’re there!’
I’m crazy about my little sister and we do a lot of things together. My mother brightens up considerably in the warm climate and she loves the life on board. It reminds her of her seven-year world voyage on board Diario with Dad. She’s constantly telling me how they did things back then; the washing, the cleaning, et cetera.
My mum, Kim and I have been invited by the hotel-with-the-pool-and-the-free-breakfasts for a meal with the manager, mayor and other VIPs. This could be a trial . . . There is rice with squid and lobster on the menu; all the things I really don’t enjoy, but of course I can’t say so. I see that Kim and my mum are also looking at the dishes with suspicion. One of the guests, whom I later discover is actually the mayor, shows me how to open the lobster and points out the edible parts. I subtly arrange everything on my plate to look as though I’ve eaten a good portion.
Kim and I have a lot of fun together, and I’m really glad that we are together again. I go diving with my mum on one occasion, and we go swimming often as there’s a heat wave that week. We visit Puerto de Mogán dozens of times and Mum soon makes some friends. She’s constantly fantasising about emigrating to Gran Canaria. If she continues doing this long enough, it may just happen.
There are another two Dutch yachts moored to the same jetty as Guppy. One of t
hem has a washing machine and Mum thinks this is terrific. It’s not much fun trying to wash your bedding in the basin. We make contact with the crew of Tante Rietje from Enkhuizen in the Netherlands. They ask us to join them for dinner that evening. Great! We eat piepertjes (new potatoes) and hamburgers. My mum, who is of German origin, has never heard the Dutch word piepertjes before and says it sounds wonderful; so wonderful that she repeats the word all night long.
At six in the morning we are woken up by the noise of metal poles clattering to the ground and banging against each other. They are busy setting up the market. Half asleep, I crawl out of the bunk that I’m sharing with a restless Kim. I eventually crawl back in and manage to sleep despite the noise from the market. I wake up at about nine. Mum is already up and I pull Kim out of bed. Luckily it’s market day today and the word piepertjes is soon forgotten.
We wander around the market with the pocket money Mum has given us. I buy two pairs of shorts and a T-shirt. It really is a big market, but by the afternoon it’s too hot to walk around and we decide to cool off in the pool.
We’ve arranged to visit the De Bruyn family at four o’clock because Mum wants to meet ‘that boy and his family’. We walk towards the spot where the car was parked, but it seems to have disappeared into thin air. Oh shit! I ask some people at one of the stalls if they know what’s happened to our car. They tell me that it’s probably been towed away and that we should go to the police to enquire. They say the police station is 8 kilometres away and, seeing that we no longer have a car, it means we will have to walk.
One Girl One Dream Page 6
