Early in the morning, we weigh anchor and sail past Philipsburg, where there are seven cruise ships, and back to Simpson Bay. I say farewell to everyone and get on the first tender back to Guppy. I then walk to the yacht club to meet Jillian Schlesinger, an American girl who is making a documentary about my voyage. I met her in the Netherlands last year and we get on well.
Mum and I have patched things up and I’ve received a long letter from her. The poor communication between us led to one big misunderstanding. She sent me a number of messages and I sent many, too, but somehow she hasn’t received them because she’s not all that good with computers. Anyway, to keep a long story short . . . she still loves me and misses me and I love and miss her, too.
There’s a new yacht lying next to mine, and the children on board are about my age. I don’t recognise the flag, though, and look it up in the atlas. It appears to be Brazilian. I start talking to them, but soon notice that their English isn’t that good. They’re learning to play the guitar and we take turns to play a song and try to converse a little on board their yacht. It’s difficult. They rattle on about all sorts of things, but I don’t understand a word of it. I nod and say ‘yes’ and ‘no’ a few times, to look like I understand a bit, but they just carry on talking. It doesn’t really matter because I like their company and they seem to like mine. I’m even able to teach them a thing or two on the guitar, which immediately makes me feel better about my own playing skills.
Early the next morning, I walk to the yacht club. I’m leaving tomorrow and have decided to buy an SSB radio here. Most sailors have them on board and are able to hold lengthy conversations with other sailors on long voyages and establish friendly radio networks in this way. After having phoned around and done some thinking, I finally select one. It’s delivered the same afternoon; a brand-new SSB, antenna tuner and email modem that turns out to be much bigger than I expected. I don’t have much time to set everything up, as Bas and Jillian are waiting on the jetty. I’m leaving today and they want to spend as much time as possible with me. I’m filling the oil on the Yanmar and am fumbling with it a bit. It resembles a circus act, and has me hanging over the main engine with my head turned slightly to the left and pressed hard against the scuttle of the engine space. That way, I can just about see the opening with one eye. Then, if I can get my hand in the right position, I can fill it with one hand. I have made a funnel from a plastic Coke bottle, because a standard funnel can’t reach it. I only just manage to get it right, but not without some spillage this time . . .
Once the engine oil has been topped up, I can replace the steps in front of the engine space and get on with the next chore: fill up with diesel. The nozzle of the hose is too big for Guppy, so some diesel also lands in the cockpit. Once I’ve cleaned this mess up, too, I cast off and leave the jetty to go to the bridge where some busybody wants to tell me how I must manoeuvre to get my boat dead slow in the right position. I don’t want to stop, I want to leave! Once outside, I tie Guppy up on a mooring and somebody offers to clean the underside of Guppy’s hull. I accept. While Bas is making French toast inside, I’m sitting in the cockpit and looking at Saint Martin. It was so different here this year. Last year I could only dream of this, although it hasn’t all been fun and I’ve had quite a lot of demands made on me and my time by nagging people, including the media. I’m really happy I can sail off again.
When we’ve finished the French toast and Guppy’s hull is clean, I leave Simpson Bay. With Bas and Jillian standing there waving, I sail off in the direction of Îles des Saintes.
Saint Martin–Îles des Saintes: 154 nautical miles
DAY 1: 20 January
Towards evening we pass Saba. A Coast Guard plane flies over a couple of times. With Saint Kitts just visible on the horizon, I enjoy a beautiful sunset. I’m so glad to be back at sea and the peace is just wonderful. No people, no demands; just the waves, wind, Guppy and me. Awesome! When we arrive at Îles des Saintes, I’m going to spend a couple of days just sitting around on Guppy doing absolutely nothing.
DAY 2: 21 January
After a long night of struggling with periods of calm to leeward of the islands, I’m below deck enjoying some breakfast when Guppy suddenly grinds to a halt with a jerk. I’m thrown forward, then jump up and run outside. Almost immediately I see the cause of our sudden stop. There are about 50 metres of buoys, fishing nets and other rubbish floating behind Guppy. I climb onto the afterdeck, and from the swimming platform see that the flotsam has wound itself around the rudder. Fortunately nothing has twisted around the propeller, but there’s a bright yellow buoy stuck to the rudder. I try to loosen one of the ropes with the boat hook, but the boat hook breaks and I have to let it drop if I don’t want to land in the water myself. Argh! I then tie a broom and paddle together to try to clear the tangled mess. Guppy is now sailing at 1 knot, and that means I’ll get to Îles des Saintes in the dark. It’s very hard steering Guppy like this, and she’s drifting further and further from Guadeloupe. I switch on the engine while in forward, in the hope of gaining some speed. It helps, but not a lot. I eventually have an idea. In the aft cabin, I find a long piece of rope that I can throw over a buoy that’s being towed by Guppy. After many failed attempts and much swearing, I finally succeed and manage to draw the buoy alongside. I cut most of it free; just a small buoy and a piece of rope remain, but they don’t really hold Guppy back much. I keep the engine running, and at around 16.00 we arrive at Îles de Saintes. I let the anchor out slowly, taking care not to drift astern. As soon as this is done, I dive into the sea with a knife.
Îles des Saintes
The neighbours give me a strange look when I surface a little later with a big piece of unravelled green rope and a number of buoys that I’ve managed to get myself tangled in. Once I’ve thrown the lot into the cockpit, I put the engine into reverse to see if the anchor is holding. All is well.
Only then do I have time to look around. Next to me is a Dutch catamaran, and a woman is swimming across to me from the yacht. They’ve heard from Ton and Dominique that I was on my way here, and she wanted to know if I’d like to come over for a meal in half an hour’s time. I don’t really feel like cooking myself and new contacts are always welcome, so I accept. A little later, I’m on board Koolau, but I don’t stay long as I’m dead tired and worried about falling asleep on their boat.
Îles des Saintes looks lovely. It’s a little island made up of a group of islands and has one touristy village. The anchorage is pretty full. After my busy time on Saint Martin, I take it easy on Îles des Saintes. I enjoy another two meals on Koolau, where we also enjoy a fun Rummikub evening. I go for a long hike on the island, read a lot during the day and watch movies in the evening. I don’t meet many people and don’t go ashore much. All I need is some rest; no people and no pressure for a while. After four days, I’m feeling a lot better and decide to continue on my way.
Îles des Saintes–Dominica: 20 nautical miles
DAY 1: 26 January
The weather has improved today. I write a quick blog for my website and set course for Dominica, but as soon as I round the heads of Îles des Saintes I regret my decision. The waves are rolling over the deck and Guppy is jumping around like a kangaroo. This is no fun as there are lots of fishing buoys out here that I really don’t want to get into. This is why the sprayhood is down and I’m drenched by the first wave that pounds over the deck. I’m normally able to switch on the autopilot from the cockpit, but it doesn’t respond. I’ve experienced this before, but this is really a bad moment for it to happen again. Soaking wet, I run into the cabin and switch the steering from there to ‘auto’. By the time I get back on deck, the waves have swung Guppy from the right course. Argh! I really hope the sea is less rough when we get to deeper waters, but that’s not the case. The wind increases and one shower follows the next. With just the genoa up, Guppy has heeled over so much that water pours into the cockpit at regular intervals.
I hadn’t anticipated such a rough cros
sing, so I hadn’t secured the dinghy to the foredeck all that well, and now it’s almost washing overboard. I crawl forward, but keep on getting water in my face, which means I can’t see a thing. Hmm . . . I spot my diving goggles in the cockpit and decide to put them on so that I can see what I’m doing. This works a treat!
There is so much rain that I only see the tall green mountains of Dominica when I’m half a mile from the island. I really hope that it’s a little drier and calmer when I try to anchor Guppy. Sure enough, the weather gods smile on me and it’s fairly calm behind the island, and it gets dry, too. The first time I drop anchor, some local thinks that I’m too close to his mooring, so I have to take the anchor in again and try a little further down. I let out the anchor chain too quickly and the chain lands on top of the anchor, which means that the anchor doesn’t hold. I heave up the anchor and try yet again. Third time lucky. Just then the next cloudburst hits Guppy . . .
Dominica
There are two other Dutch yachts next to me. When it has stopped raining, I see someone on board and paddle towards them. They’re just about to go for a walk and I decide to join them so that I can see a bit of the island, as I haven’t been further than the Customs office. It’s a nice walk and we get back just before dark. There’s a party at Big Papa’s, the local bar, so we join in and enjoy the atmosphere and music. There’s only reggae music, of course, and the constant smell of weed, or marijuana. It’s the most normal thing in the world to smoke it here, and when you walk through the streets at least half the people you see are either stoned or drunk, but not aggressive.
Together with the crew on Cornelis and Stamper, the two Dutch yachts next to Guppy, I decide to see some more of the island. We get up early and look for the bus that takes you to the Indian reservation, but can’t find it. A taxi costs 150 East Caribbean dollars (that’s about €38), and we think it’s too expensive. While we’re trying to find a solution, a kind man approaches us and says we can take the bus to Marigot and then change buses. The taxi driver is furious with the man for spoiling his potential fare, and we board the very full bus to Marigot while the two of them are still arguing.
The route is beautiful. The island is very green and is apparently the last Caribbean island with an unspoilt tropical rainforest. Unfortunately, the bus passes all of this at full speed and we have to crane our necks to see the view. In Marigot, we hitchhike to the village that, according to the driver of the truck that picks us up, is the Indian village. We walk through it but don’t really get the idea that Indians live here, and so we take a bus back. We stop in another village and — voilà — there it is at the foot of a mountain. It’s not very exciting, just a few girls who are weaving baskets, a waterfall and . . . well, that’s it! I pick a coconut to take with me and we go on to the capital, Roseau.
Back on Guppy, I take the dinghy and paddle to Stad Amsterdam that, by happy coincidence, has just arrived. I recognise Leo on the bridge, who sees me first. It’s good to meet up with everyone, but there’s been a big change of crew and many of them don’t know me. Enough of them still do, though, and they ask me to join them for a meal.
Nearly every day the locals come to the yachts lying at anchor to ask if we’re interested in tours on the island or trips down the Indian River for $30. Diane from the Cornelis and I have decided to do our own river trip in my dinghy. The locals, of course, say that this is prohibited, so we start out at five in the morning before it gets light. There’s no one about and the faint light makes it even more mysterious. Wow, it really is stunning! We continue up the river, which is surrounded by mangrove swamps and palm trees, and we pass the spot where Pirates of the Caribbean II was filmed. The river is getting shallower, but the dinghy is light and we manage to carry it across the waterfalls and rapids that are becoming ever more common. We then decide to leave the dinghy behind and continue on foot. There are a lot of mosquitos, and some parts of the river are suddenly very deep, which means I go under a couple of times, but I don’t mind — this is freshwater. I’d love to take some with me, fill the dinghy up with it or take a hose to Guppy from here, but that, of course, isn’t possible.
When we get hungry, I try to open a coconut. It takes some doing, and to our dismay it’s sour. We try another; this one is good. We each have half and it makes up for the breakfast we missed. Satisfied, we walk back to the dinghy. It’s all downstream from here, and we have fun paddling fast and even rafting in some places. An awesome experience.
Running wild, we come to the mouth of the river where there are now a number of people. They aren’t particularly happy to see us, and one man gives us a whole sermon about it not being allowed . . . I tell him that’s too bad as we’ve just completed our trip. There’s nothing much he can do about it as it’s not his river. He grumbles and swears a bit, but leaves us alone.
When we eventually get back to Guppy, I feel I’ve had quite a day and sit and read in the cockpit. At 14.00 we all go snorkelling, and that evening I visit Stamper to make everyone some banana pancakes.
The next morning I wake up when I hear someone call my name loudly. Outside there’s a boat carrying scuba tanks and a number of people who ask me if I want to go diving. Sure! I grab my diving gear and jump on board. It’s beautiful underwater. I see two turtles and we dive through an underground cave. Back on Guppy, I tidy up and get some schoolwork done. That night, I make some popcorn and watch a movie. And so ends another beautiful day on this tropical island.
I actually want to sail on to Bonaire tomorrow, so I start getting things sorted for the voyage. After half an hour everything is neat inside, but now all the mess is lying outside. The whole cockpit is full. Half a fishnet, a huge shell, flippers, various wetsuits, grapefruit and lots more that doesn’t belong here. En route from Îles des Saintes, the shell had dropped on my toes, so I put it in a box and secure it. I also pack the rest where it belongs. I paddle to my German neighbours and ask them if they can take me ashore with their fast dinghy because it’ll take me forever to get there in mine. They’re happy to help me and I clear outward at Customs. On the way back, I recognise one of the yachts: it’s Tante Rietje. I ask if we can run past them, but unfortunately they aren’t home. What a pity!
When I’m on deck a little later, I see that the Tante Rietje crew are on board and paddle across to greet them. They recognise me immediately and I’m invited to join them. The skipper tells me that his wife couldn’t take the heat and has gone back to the Netherlands. Now he’s sailing with an Italian whose relationship has broken up. They’re busy making dinner and ask me if I’m hungry. The cook being Italian, it’s spaghetti, of course. After catching up with all the news, I paddle back to Guppy and chat to Dad on Skype, but the WiFi signal is weak and falls away from time to time. As soon as it starts getting dark, I lie on the couch to watch a movie, The Kids Are Alright.
Dominica–Bonaire: 450 nautical miles
DAY 1: 2 February
The alarm goes off at six in the morning. I stretch in my bunk and then start on the best morning exercise there is: heaving up the anchor. This is because my trusty 34-year-old Guppy only has a manual windlass. With some effort and a bit of sweat, I manage to get the 25-metre-long, 10-millimetre-thick, heavy anchor chain back on deck.
All is calm in the bay; one or two people are coming up on deck, and a yacht leaves just in front of me. As soon as Guppy is out of the bay, I hoist the sails and prepare something to eat. There’s little wind and the last Dominican shower falls over me. To prevent Guppy rolling too much, I start the Yanmar. A little later there’s a breeze and I can switch it off. As soon as I’ve checked the sails and seen to it that Guppy is on course, I start to feel bored. What’s this? Have I spent too much time on land? Fortunately it doesn’t last long. I eat a grapefruit, enjoy watching Dominica grow smaller on the horizon and make some macaroni. I’m never bored in the evening and enjoy my dinner watching the sunset. It looks like I may have company. A brown sea bird circles around Guppy three times, flies straight into the
mainsail and then perches on top of the mizzen. That’s where it stays. I’m just beginning to enjoy its company when I hear splat, and see that there’s a pool of thick bird shit that’s landed 5 centimetres from me. Guess I’ll take care of it in the morning . . .
The night is calm and I don’t need to do anything. No changes of course or trimming sails. Great!
DAY 2: 3 February
At 07.00 I’m woken up by a call from the Dutch newspaper the AD (Algemene Dagblad). Half asleep, I tell them about my experience with my shitty bird. The stupid bird left an hour ago having shat over the entire boat. My reward for the ride. Nice!
After a breakfast of cornflakes this morning, I clean the cockpit. I’m not planning to sit in this muck for the next two days. It sticks like glue and I’ve given the culprit a good warning not to come back. I’ll take care of the mizzen, bimini and foredeck when I get to Bonaire.
There isn’t a cloud in the sky and it promises to be a warm day. There’s a nice breeze for a broad reach, and Guppy is sailing at around 6 knots. I’m getting into my rhythm again. A flying fish lands in the cockpit today. I throw it back into the sea and spend the rest of the day trimming the sails, checking my course, navigating, cooking and sending off a blog about shitty sea birds . . .
At night, a cruise ship passes Guppy in the opposite direction. I’m having ravioli tonight and, just when I take a bite, a big wave sends both me and the saucepan flying, spreading the contents from the galley to the chart table, with me landing on my back. How can a simple meal cause all this mess? After taking a photo of the ravioli battlefield, I set out to clean it up.
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