One Girl One Dream

by Dekker, Laura

  I wake up to a soft tapping sound. It’s raining and it takes me a while to realise where I am. Why is it so calm on Guppy? Are we becalmed again? Huh? Do I hear an airplane? Slowly I realise that I’m not sailing anymore but lying at anchor. I get up and walk outside. It was dark when I arrived, and the first few seconds are a total surprise. I notice yachts anchored all around me. I see green mountains, a white beach and palm trees. I give myself a few minutes to absorb it all, have something to eat, wash up and tidy up. At 10.30 Petra and cameraman Peter Wingender are picking me up in a dinghy. Peter wants to film me the whole day. We first go to Immigration and Customs, and, as always, this takes a lot of time.

  The bridge will open at 17.30 to let Guppy through, so Henk, Marja, Dominique and Ton, the Dutch people who had come to welcome me in their speedboat the previous night, take me to an idyllic beach. We first cruise around the whole bay and then out under the French bridge. At the beach we tie the boat to a mooring and swim to the shore. Here we have a meal and a chat before we swim back to the boat and motor back. An airplane comes in low over our heads and lands just as we pass the airport. They drop me off at Guppy, and I have three quarters of an hour to wait for the bridge to open and let me through. I’ve only just got on board when I’m called and told to cast off and follow them. What, already? I follow the speedboat that’s now carrying all the children from the yacht club. Before I know it, there’s a police boat behind me and a whole armada of boats following me. What’s this all about? . . . The children in the speedboat are now unfolding a big banner with Welcome to Saint Martin, Laura. The bridge is already open and the fleet of boats and dinghies cruises along with me. At the bridge, people are waving, and at the yacht club there’s an even bigger crowd. They’re all welcoming me and taking lots of photos. Then there’s an explosion of noise as all the mega-yachts blow their horns. Is it really all for me? I’m stunned. What a welcome! I tie Guppy up to the jetty in front of the yacht club. The jetty is full of people. Wow, everyone is being so kind!

  It’s very busy at the yacht club and I join a table of girls. One of them is 12-year-old Bodine, the daughter of Henk and Marja. While we are eating a hamburger, people stop to congratulate and welcome me every five seconds. It still hasn’t really sunk in. Was it really me who sailed across the Atlantic Ocean on her own?

  Then there’s a woman who steps up to me and says: ‘I’m from the boat across there, and the owner would like to invite you to come and have a drink.’

  ‘OK, but, um, there are only mega-yachts on that side . . .’

  I finish my hamburger, and half an hour later she’s back again.

  ‘Why not bring someone along with you?’ she asks.

  I look at Bodine, who asks her mum if it’s OK. She in turn asks Bas Stamm, a boy of 16 who is also wandering around the yacht club, if he’d like to come along.

  We are fetched by a tender that is bigger than Guppy, and the crew bring us to the yacht which is really enormous. I’ve never been on such a big yacht. It has a 2-metre flat screen that just drops out of the ceiling, and everything is so unbelievably luxurious.

  After a few hours, I’m back on Guppy and I’m trying to digest all the impressions of the past day. I’m happy, but, strangely enough, not entirely. I haven’t heard from my mum in weeks and even now she hasn’t called or made any contact.

  I immediately make friends with Bas. He was born on Saint Martin and has lived here all his life. Together with Bas, I take Guppy to Simpson Bay Marina the following day and then visit Philipsburg. We go for a swim, eat an ice cream and then take the bus back to Simpson Bay when we get bored. Catching a bus here is very different to catching one in the Netherlands. There are no bus stops. You just stand at the roadside and wave down the first minibus you see with the destination you want displayed on the windscreen.

  Bas and I are together a lot. We sail, watch movies and have a lot of fun. When I’m not with Bas, I’m on the internet, trying to reach my mum, answering tons of emails, doing my schoolwork, updating my website and trying not to say ‘no’ too often to people who want something from me. One evening I stay awake until half past one in the morning for an interview with the VARA, the Dutch national public broadcaster. It’s late because of the time difference with the Netherlands. By two o’clock, they still haven’t phoned. Idiots! They call me the next day to say they had logged the interview incorrectly in their programme schedule. They ask if they can do the interview at the same time this evening. No, I tell them, I don’t think so. Tonight I have ‘sleep’ logged in my schedule at that time. I’m afraid my opinion of the media isn’t improving. Sometimes it’s all a bit too much. Too many friendly people who unintentionally demand attention and can’t stop talking. Preparing Guppy, my schoolwork, the media, parents and friends all demand my attention. Do I always have to be cheerful and put on a smile? Both at sea and on land, I have these ‘it’s all a little too much’ moments. At sea I sometimes curse the waves and the wind and swear at every drop that finds its way into the cabin. It’s a great tension-reliever, but when I’m on land and I refuse a journalist an interview because I’ve had enough, it usually results in bad publicity which only makes me feel worse.

  The attitude of the cameraman who’s doing a documentary on me doesn’t improve matters either. I see him peering at me through his lens almost every morning when I wake up and look through my porthole. Why is he always there so early, and why does he need to see me get out of bed every day? For the umpteenth time I tell him that it’s not appreciated, but he just doesn’t listen. And so it continues for the whole week. I’ve also discovered that he can’t film that well. His images are very shaky and he never uses a tripod. I just can’t get through to him, and don’t think this is going to work . . . But, fortunately, there are also many friendly people and happy moments.

  The replica of the eighteenth-century merchant vessel the Stad Amsterdam is lying at anchor offshore. What a beauty! I’m fetched by one of the crew and given a tour of the ship. They are busy taking supplies on board, and I give them a hand. It’s a lot more than I ever need on Guppy. With 70 crew members, it’s 70 times as much!

  At 11.00 they take me back to Guppy. I’m going to pack my bags, because Henk and Marja, Bodine’s parents, are coming to pick me up. We drive to Oyster Pond where Bodine and I are being picked up by Dominique and Bobo, the ship’s dog, and then taken to True Blue, a 57-foot ketch. I’m going to spend my Christmas holiday on this boat with Ton, Dominique and their two dogs. Henk and Marja will come along in their speedboat, Oyster, and Bas and his father, Mike, in their 9-metre yacht, ‘t Swaentje.

  We sail to Grand Case, on the French side of the island, in the three boats. Unfortunately there isn’t much wind. Halfway, Oyster comes alongside and Henk tells us he’s going to fill up with fuel. Bodine and I jump on board for the trip. After refuelling, we cruise to Grand Case where True Blue is already anchored in full Christmas regalia. The entire boat is covered in streamers, lights and Christmas hats. Once we are on board, I try to get onto the internet. There’s a sort of super WiFi antenna on board True Blue that gives you access, even when you’re lying at anchor. In this way I manage to wish Dad a Merry Christmas and update my blog. We spend the night off Grand Case, and sail on to Tintamarre, an island belonging to Saint Martin, the next morning. Here we have breakfast and unwrap our Christmas gifts. Father Christmas has brought me a pretty necklace and a T-shirt.

  Later that morning, True Blue sails to St Barth, while Bodine and I kneeboard behind Oyster. It’s a great Christmas, with warm weather, lots of kneeboarding, swimming and good company. At the same time, it’s weird to be so far away from the Netherlands at Christmas where my family has watched my 12-year-old sister’s televised performance in the Magic Circus Show in Geneva. Hopefully someone has recorded it for me to view later.

  The next day, most people want to go to town to do some shopping. Bas, Bodine and I don’t feel like joining them and choose to go kneeboarding behind the dinghy. This doesn’t rea
lly work as the motor isn’t strong enough to pull us, but snorkelling is also an option. I see a number of boys jumping off a 10-metre high cliff and want to try this myself. Five minutes later I’m standing on top of the cliff; Bodine and Bas are quick to follow. Jumping is much easier than climbing to the top, and after a few jumps, we’re done with it.

  During dinner, Mike says he needs to get back home. He asks me if Bas and I will sail ‘t Swaentje back for him. The next day we get her ready, leave the mooring and sail back to Saint Martin. On the way, Henk comes alongside to give us a cold beer. Nice!

  As we approach Saint Martin, the situation gets interesting. Bas doesn’t have a clue where to find the harbour where ‘t Swaentje is moored and we don’t have a chart. We phone Mike, who tells us to go in the direction of Philipsburg. We need to sail past all the cruise ships, and of course the wind drops and we can’t get the old outboard motor started.

  Mike is waiting for us when we moor. He tells me I need to go to the yacht club because there’s a surprise in store for me there. It’s a big Christmas gift. When I unwrap it, I see that I’m the owner of a brand-new laptop. The gift is from Tony, the yacht broker I met the previous year. Wow, what an amazing Christmas gift — I’m speechless!

  New Year!

  I think I need to start with some schoolwork today. When I’ve finished, I call Bas. He has to go to ‘t Swaentje to replace a line, and as I’ve had enough of my homework I decide to take the bus to Philipsburg to help him. There’s a strong wind and we need to paddle to the yacht mooring on a raft. It takes a while paddling against the wind and waves to get there, but we manage to replace the worn mooring line and then have time to wander through Philipsburg. It’s very touristy with all the people from the cruise ships, but once you’re off the main roads you immediately enter the poorer suburbs.

  I wonder what the year 2011 will bring. The last day of the old year doesn’t get off to a good start, however. I haven’t been feeling well all day and it’s only getting worse. Leaning against a palm tree and sitting on the warm, white sand, I feel really dizzy. After having almost emptied the contents of my stomach over Bas, I begin to recover a little. That’s as far as I’m concerned; poor Bas is not impressed. He’s had to jump out of the way and is now asking me if I’m alright and to ensure there’s no repeat performance. I’m feeling as right as rain by that evening; it must have been something I ate.

  At midnight we watch the fireworks from the boulevard and wish each other a happy New Year. No fireworks are allowed on the Dutch half of the island, so I’ve brought along one of Guppy’s flares. After the fireworks display from the French side of the island, which takes about 20 minutes, we find a quiet spot to light the flare. Not strictly legal, of course, but what good are New Year’s Eve celebrations without fireworks? It’s the first time that I’ve lit a real emergency flare as it’s forbidden in the Netherlands, even as an exercise. The flare hangs in the sky for a long time, and when it has landed in the ocean we walk back to Guppy where it’s really quiet. Everyone has gone to bed and we decide to go to sleep.

  Stad Amsterdam

  My computer still can’t receive any WiFi signal and I decide to take my new laptop to the shop where it was bought. They try everything to fix it, but without success and decide it needs to be sent off for repairs. When I leave the shop without my laptop, I receive a call from Arthur from the Stad Amsterdam. Would I like to join them for the next 10 days? What a question — of course! There are three conditions, though: that I bring my passport, that I have a note from my dad giving his permission, and that I bring along my schoolwork. I’ve been on board twice, and yesterday, when I heard that one of the crew was injured and had to be flown home, I grabbed my chance and asked if I could go along for the trip as a replacement.

  I immediately phone Dad and ask him to write the note with his consent and fax it through. I then get Guppy ready for 10 days of silence and loneliness. The dinghy is stowed on the foredeck, the hammock is put away and, most importantly, the dishes are done and refuse removed. I arrange with Arthur to meet him at the bridge at three o’clock, but I pack my bag and am ready at two o’clock. I decide to be on my way, and call in on Petra at the yacht club to ask her to keep an eye on Guppy.

  At three o’clock sharp, I’m fetched as arranged, along with two other crew members. I’m allocated a cabin and we sort out crew gear. I’m on ‘red watch’; that’s from midnight to four in the morning and again in the afternoon.

  After dinner, there’s a crew introduction (in which I need to take part — very weird). The one moment I’m travelling around the world on my own, and the next I’m introducing myself to the passengers along with 30 crew members on the 76-metre Stad Amsterdam. What an awesome experience.

  As my first watch is at midnight, my roommate, Fleur, and I go to sleep at 20.00. I don’t even notice when they raise the anchor an hour later and the sails are set. When I clamber on deck at midnight, it’s pitch dark. It’s the first time that I’ve sailed on a square-rigged ship.

  A number of sails have been hoisted and I feel as though I’m in a dream. Slowly the heavy ship cleaves its way through the waves as the sails fill up. During the night, we adjust and trim the sails a bit and add an extra one. Otherwise, it’s quite quiet. I get an explanation about the lines, sheets and rigging. There really are loads of lines to learn about. Some 800 of them; that’s quite a bit more than I have on Guppy! At 04.00 I go back to my bunk, and when I wake up the next day we’re already at Saint Kitts. It’s really peaceful here, and I’m so comfortable in my narrow bunk with air conditioning. Everyone has a cold due to the air conditioning. It’s so good to sleep in the gentle swell when you don’t have to worry about navigating, ships, rocks and other dangers.

  Once the guests have explored the island, the anchor is raised and by late that afternoon Dominica has come into sight. Fleur and I are furling the sails in the tops of the masts and tying them up. There’s a name for it, but I’ve managed to forget it. Oh yes, it’s ‘stowing’, I think.

  Everything on board has a name that I’ve never heard of, but I’m learning fast: it’s afzoeten instead of ontzouten, stowing, unfurling and many other sailing terms. I’m no longer getting lost, either, which was the case on the first day. While we are sailing, Arthur suddenly appears with an old on-board camera. The documentary cameraman had told me off for not taking a film camera with me, and now Arthur wants to make up for it. Argh — more cameras to contend with. I love making films and photographs so long as I don’t feature in them. I just want to enjoy everything around me and not have to concentrate on the cameras. On Gup I know everything, but here everything is new for me and I want to enjoy the experience as much as possible — without a camera in front of my nose. Arthur only occasionally wields the camera and I can live with that.

  It’s 08.00 and I’m woken up by one of the crew. I gobble down my breakfast because I want to see Dominica by daylight. The island looks very tropical; it’s tall and very green. Last night’s rain is evaporating and drips off the palm leaves. As soon as the guests are taken to the island at 09.00, we sail towards the northern side of the island where we will pick them up this evening.

  It’s already 9 January and, after completing my schoolwork, I write an email to my family who are now celebrating Dad’s birthday. There’s a good wind, but, as is often the case, it’s a headwind. It’s only an hour’s sail and the captain wants us to sail for that hour. I’m not the captain, but as soon as the sails are hoisted we can begin the task of taking them down again . . .

  In the past few days we have sailed via Saint Kitts, Dominica, Îles de Saintes and Guadeloupe to arrive at Montserrat. We have a day off today. No ‘red watch’ for a change, and nothing to stop us from exploring the island. Fleur and I can’t make up our minds whether to do some form of water sport or to see the island. After looking at the water sport facilities — a leaky boat, a fender/cushion and a homemade contraption of some 2 metres that’s supposed to resemble a catamaran — we d
ecide to tour the island.

  This is the only spot on the island where they have any boats, the taxi driver tells us, and we go along with him to see a bit of the island. Either the driver is really dull or it’s just a boring island, because he doesn’t have anything interesting to tell us about it. Just ‘This is a park and this is a house’, and so forth.

  After showing us a stream that’s 15 centimetres wide and declaring that the water is ‘holy’, we leave him behind and carry on walking. Far better this way. After 10 minutes we’re lost, but it’s very pretty. When we reach another road after a long walk, we come across our taxi driver again. We wonder if this is pure coincidence.

  We buy something to eat and drink at the local supermarket and, after much pleading from us, our taxi driver takes us to the ‘No Entry’ area. The island’s capital was entirely destroyed during a volcanic eruption about 15 years ago, and because the volcano is still active it’s forbidden territory. But not for us!

  It’s really impressive: a town totally deserted and buried under a metre-thick blanket of lava ash. In the abandoned homes there are photographs on the walls, Christmas decorations and calendars dating back to 1996. It wouldn’t be difficult to imagine a few zombies walking around here. A true ghost town! We make our way back before it gets dark.

  We are woken up early the next morning, enjoy an excellent breakfast, unfurl the sails, weigh anchor and sail in the direction of Tintamarre, the island that lies in front of Saint Martin. My trip on the Stad Amsterdam is coming to an end. When we’re lying at anchor again, the guests visit the island while we swim. As soon as the guests are back, everyone has to be in their crew gear. There’s a barbecue tonight and everything has to be set up for it. It’s my last evening on board and I’m going to miss this. Of course I want to see Guppy, but this trip has been terrific. Hard work, but fun; and it makes a pleasant change to have so many people around me.