One Girl One Dream

by Dekker, Laura

  We decide to go snorkelling together, but first have something to eat on R Sea Kat. I spot a turtle with three pilot fish at a depth of 10 metres. The water is so clear and the colours are stunning. Looking down on the water, light blue indicates a sandbank, brown a reef and deep blue the ocean depths. That night we all have dinner on board R Sea Kat with Mike and Deana. The day has flown past and I’ve made a number of good new friends.

  In the morning, I decide to finish preparing the ratlines to the first spreaders. I complete this chore just before it gets really hot. Now I can get up the mast with ease and I enjoy the view from the first spreader. After we’ve looked at each other’s photographs on R Sea Kat, we go snorkelling. It’s so beautiful underwater here that it never fails to impress me. The tide is coming in and we decide to let ourselves drift while hanging on to the dinghy. It’s as if we are flying over this underwater world. A small black-tip shark passes us and I’m surprised that I’m not scared. On the contrary, the shark is the one that catches fright and, unfortunately, disappears quickly.

  This morning, I see that Rhythm has anchored here, too, and it’s great to see her crew. We’ve been invited for a barbecue by the charter yacht next to us this evening. During the barbecue, and on other occasions, I’ve been able to gather quite a lot of useful information about Panama. I’m very curious to know how long it will take me to get permission to go through the Panama Canal. During my parents’ world voyage, they had to wait for three weeks before they were allowed to pass through with their yacht.

  One evening, I enjoy some pancakes on board smaller Pjotter. Yum! With seven adults and two kids running around it’s really busy on the 10-metre Pjotter, and it takes some getting used to, but luckily the kids calm down when they start watching the movie Happy Feet.

  The next day a new yacht arrives, full of backpackers. Looking at the dome antennae up their mast, it seems they have internet. I introduce myself to the crew and am invited on board. Great, I’m allowed to use their internet! In a way it’s wonderful to live without internet. It does, however, have a magnetic attraction, and once again I’m reading my emails. Fortunately, the connection doesn’t last long and I’m able to enjoy the real world rather than the virtual one.

  That evening we have a farewell dinner on R Sea Kat. Our ways part tomorrow as the Pjotters are going back to the Netherlands via Iceland, but I will probably see Mike and Deana in Panama later on. I wave goodbye to Windwalker, R Sea Kat and the Pjotters, and now there are only three boats left. A feeling of loneliness comes over me and I don’t quite know what to do with myself. For the past few days I’ve had people around me all the time and every second has been filled. Now I have to amuse myself, but that doesn’t really worry me. I’ll soon be heading for Panama myself and can start getting Guppy ready for the voyage. I can also visit the other yachts, do my schoolwork or read. Getting some schoolwork done seems a good option, and when I’ve finished that I climb up into the mast and sit on a spreader for an hour to record all the recent happenings in my diary. The view from the lower spreaders is stunning. It’s quiet and I can sit here for hours just daydreaming; and that’s exactly what I do. From my position high in the mast, I see a stingray and then a turtle swim past.

  I take a walk around Tiadup. The island is not very big and it takes me less than half an hour, but at least I’ve had some exercise.

  Towards evening, Brian and Marilyn from Icarian come by.

  ‘Do you feel like having dinner with us?’

  ‘Sure, that would be great!’

  I jump into my dinghy and minutes later I’m chatting away. When I get back to Guppy, I once again climb up to my new perch in the mast to think back on yet another wonderful day on this voyage of mine.

  I’ve decided to continue my voyage tomorrow afternoon and am busy stowing all the loose stuff away; flippers, towels, wind catcher, bottles, clothes, books, laptop, tins, the dishes, sail covers and charts. There’s plenty to do. It’s amazing how one person can create so much mess in just one week . . .

  San Blas Islands–Panama: 80 nautical miles

  DAY 1: 29 March

  Just before sunset, I steer Guppy through the reefs and into the choppy sea. Late in the afternoon, I have the sun on my back which is ideal for spotting the reefs, and sailing through the night will bring me to Panama by daylight. The waves are something to contend with in the shallower parts, but once out at sea Guppy is doing an average of 6 knots under full sail on a moonless night in the direction of Panama. It’s pitch dark and hard to distinguish the sea from the sky, and it feels like I’m floating through the universe. Although I would have been able to see the stars if that were the case.

  Slowly the shipping traffic picks up. I spend the whole night in the cockpit tucked into my red sleeping bag. I’m sorry to have said goodbye to everyone I met in the San Blas Islands, but that’s the way it goes: travelling and parting go hand in hand, and I’m finally getting used to it. I can now enjoy the first day at sea without missing everyone and everything. Besides, the Panama Canal and the Pacific are waiting for me. And so we sail through the black night with an increasing number of lights moving past, and the radar fills with approaching dots.

  DAY 2: 30 March

  It gets light slowly and I should be seeing the coast now, but there’s a thick black cloud blocking my view. I can’t make out if it’s a high or low coastline we are approaching. With the heavy cargo traffic, I’ve hardly been able to shut my eyes, but I’m used to this kind of traffic from my crossings between the Netherlands and England. At about nine o’clock, I pick out more and more detail and see the piers of Colón harbour. With all the cargo ships, cranes and traffic, it feels as though I’m approaching the busy harbour of Rotterdam. The only difference is that there are mountains and palm trees here and, fortunately, it’s considerably warmer.

  I’m in contact with Mike and Deana on R Sea Kat via the VHF, and they have organised a spot for me at the marina. Once inside the breakwaters, it’s beautifully calm. There are a number of people waiting for me in the harbour and I get a spot right in front of the restaurant . . . Oh no! Well, you can’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

  Colón

  Almost immediately there are lots of people around me all wanting something from me. I clear in and then start to organise everything for my passage through the Panama Canal. Guppy gets measured and inspected and I need to fill in a pile of forms and answer the same queries each time. Hopefully, I’ll get a place on the waiting list for the Panama Canal soon. There are dozens of yachts in the harbour and another 15 are lying at anchor; and they all get to go before me.

  On my way back from clearing in, there’s a cameraman standing in my way again. Argh! I say that I’m tired and that they should come back tomorrow, but they continue to take photographs and carry on filming. I then say something unfriendly to shake them off, but it doesn’t make any difference. They keep on asking questions and I repeatedly tell them to go away. When they eventually make a move to depart, there’s one final question: ‘By the way, what’s your name?’

  Seething with anger, I storm back to Guppy. It’s amazing how rude people can be; they haven’t even taken the trouble to find out who they are interviewing. After taking a shower and writing my blog, my anger subsides and I walk to the yacht where I’ve been invited to have dinner. After a delicious bamischottel (Indonesian noodle dish) and having not slept for 39 hours, I quickly fall into a deep sleep . . . zzz . . .

  At half past eight José, who works at the harbour, should have been taking me, Mike and Deana to Colón. At half past nine he still hasn’t arrived and he only pitches up at half past 10. Panamanians! The radiator needs to be filled with water every 10 minutes, but we eventually get to Colón. Colón is a decaying, overcrowded town where everyone does his or her own thing. There’s little law and order, and the residents, often armed, shoot at each other as they walk or drive around. Everyone has warned me not to go there on my own.

  The Immigration Offices are on
the second floor of a derelict building. Once there, they tell me that I don’t need a visa for some reason but that Mike and Deanna do. We can’t work out why this is so, as José was convinced I’d need one.

  It’s hot and humid, without a breath of wind. When we get back to Guppy, we first cool off in the pool that belongs to the harbour. There we learn that we can borrow bikes from someone, and a little later we’re on our way to Fort Lorenzo. Mike has heard about this place and we’re curious to see it. We cycle for about 10 kilometres, uphill and downhill, and then straight through some jungle over a good tarred road on our folding bikes without seeing anyone; just the odd monkey. We hear thousands of jungle noises all around us, of which I can identify only a few. This is fun!

  The fort is a ruin, but its location is beautiful. We are rewarded with an awesome view over the sea and of a winding river running through a jungle. Just before sunset we make our way back. Slowly the jungle comes alive. Monkeys and all sorts of other animals alert the jungle of their presence with their loud cries. I’m busy looking at a couple of monkeys overhead when I have to brake sharply to avoid running over a snake. It raises its head and hisses at me. I get the fright of my life, but it seems as shocked as I am and disappears into the grass.

  Mike, Deana and I have put our names on the list of yachties for the free bus trip to Colón that goes twice a day. We walk to the bus at 07.45 and it’s already jam-packed with people. Officially, only one person per boat is permitted on the bus and a number of people are unceremoniously thrown off. Now Deana and I have managed to get on the bus, without Mike, but he manages to get on somehow. The trip is bumpy and we have to wait a long time for the locks to close and the bridge to open. On the return journey, the bus is overloaded with big bags and boxes of groceries. I’m relieved to be back on Guppy.

  One of the nicest things about sailing around the world is that you meet the most amazing people on your voyage. Mike and Deana, whom I met on the San Blas Islands, are an example. Mike was a heart surgeon when he was diagnosed with cancer of the throat. He survived against all odds and this made them decide to change the course of their lives. They sold their home and most of their possessions and bought R Sea Kat, a 42-foot catamaran, to sail around the world in. They have invited each of their three adult children to sail a section of the voyage with them, as they want their children to share these special memories.

  I’ve become good friends with them; not only because they’re genuinely nice people and always ready to help me, but because they’re very special. They met each other during their studies when both of them had part-time jobs as trapeze artists in a circus. According to Mike, Deana was the only woman who could perform a two and half forward-somersault from a swinging trapeze. Mike himself also has some amazing stunts to his name; such as setting himself alight and then diving into a tiny pool from a great height. They are in their sixties but you’d never think it. I hope to be just like them when I grow old.

  Mike and Deana are passing through the Panama Canal at the same time as I am. Promise, another 42-foot catamaran with Joy and Gordon on board, is leaving today and we’re going with them as line-handlers so that we know what we can expect. The old tyres that will serve as fenders in the canal are loaded onto my deck today. I’m on the list for 9 and 10 April, which means Guppy and I will be in the Pacific Ocean in a few days’ time.

  I’m able to take a quick dive in the pool before Promise gives me a sign that she’s allowed to leave. We are on the first shift and on our way to the first three locks, the Gatun Locks, with two other yachts. Before we can leave, the two other yachts have to raft up alongside Promise. It’s chaotic moving between huge, loudly hooting cargo ships, with much swearing and shouting going on. Hmm, I notice these people haven’t done much manoeuvering before . . . I’m a line-handler on Promise and I’m observing the chaos next to us while waiting for a line from the other yachts. Finally, they succeed in tying the three yachts together. We’re in front of a cargo ship that, despite sounding various warning signals, almost landed on us, and we’re now moving into the lock. Heaving lines are thrown across to us from the top of the lock by canal linesmen. We attach our ropes to them and the canal linesmen haul them up with the heaving lines. We are the middle boat so we don’t have much to do, and I use the opportunity to study the whole procedure. Everything goes well until the last lock, where we see an ambulance approaching . . . Something has gone wrong with handling the lines on one of the yachts behind us and someone has lost a couple of fingers.

  It takes a day and a half, and we drive back from Panama City to Colón on the second night together with all the other line-handlers. Tonight, a party is being given in my honour at the club. In exchange the local media are able to do a few interviews. It’s much better to do it this way. They show respect and are far better prepared, so I don’t have to field stupid questions.

  It’s dark and calm outside and it’s raining. Jillian arrived today and we are having a good time. We get the last provisions in Colón and then take a swim in the pouring rain. That evening we want to make hamburgers, but when I open the packet I see a dirty white mess. The packet shows me that these should be chicken burgers, but what is this mash? I throw it in a pan and cook it. It’s not that bad once it’s covered in bread, cheese and a lot of ketchup.

  It’s Guppy’s turn to go through the canal tomorrow and I’m busy with the preparations. I cover the solar panels with cushions because the weighted lines or ‘monkey fists’ don’t always land where they should. I lash the tyre fenders to Guppy’s sides, fill the water tank and do the dishes. I then mess up my tidy galley by baking cookies with Jillian. Tomorrow there’ll be six people on board Guppy and I need to be able to offer them something to eat.

  Colón–Panama Canal, Panama: 43 nautical miles

  DAY 1: 10 April

  I’m busy with the final preparations until noon, and at 13.00 we untie our lines and Guppy makes for the Flats where I bring her alongside the anchored R Sea Kat. While we are waiting, I decide to do something useful and dive overboard with a putty-knife to scrape the barnacles off the propellers, as this makes a big difference in speed.

  The pilot, Francisco, looks at me in amazement when I tell him that I’m Guppy’s captain, and shakes my hand. He gives me a thoughtful look and then continues to explain how I have to take Guppy through the busy shipping traffic to reach the first locks in the canal.

  Just before we get to the first three locks that will lift Guppy 27 metres to the level of the Gatun Lake, I greet an Australian sailor whose yacht is going to be tied to Guppy when we slowly move together into the first lock.

  ‘Did you see the crocodile on the bank?’ the Australian asks me. ‘It just slithered back into the water.’

  ‘No. What a pity!’

  Now I really must pay attention. Not to the crocodiles, but to the weighted heaving lines that they’ll be throwing across from the sides of the lock. The line-handlers on either side of the yachts need to tie these ropes and keep them taut while the water level rises. It all goes well and isn’t as complicated as some nervous yachties have told me it would be. It’s just a little bigger than the hundreds of locks I’ve passed through in the Netherlands. Once past the locks we enter Gatun Lake, which is surrounded by tropical rainforest. Here I have to moor Guppy to a big doughnut-shaped mooring for the night. A little later, the Australians and Mike and Deana, who come through the locks a couple of hours later, tie up next to Guppy. I cook pancakes for the whole crew and play my guitar. We exchange beers and swap notes with our neighbours about our experiences.

  Guppy is overcrowded, and Jillian and I decide to sleep under the stars on the suspended net on Mike and Deana’s catamaran. All the comfortable places on Guppy have been taken by the crew. At five in the morning, we’re woken up by the calls of howler monkeys from the jungle bordering the lake. It’s fascinating. One monkey starts howling and it sets off a wave of howls that reverberate through the jungle.

  An hour later, a new pilo
t boards. He urges me to hurry so that I can reach the Miraflores Locks by midday. Mike and Deana are sailing close by. We cross the Gatun Lake playing loud music. It’s hot and very tempting to have a water fight. We end up sailing close enough to be able to throw buckets of water at each other!

  Before we know it, we’ve reached the final locks and our journey through the Panama Canal is almost done. The descent through the last locks goes smoothly, but now the sun makes way for a downpour. My entire crew flees below deck so that I have to motor to the anchorage and drop the anchor on my own. Sailing with a crew is complicated, as you have to take each one of them into account and need to explain everything all the time. It’s a huge mess on Guppy and everyone is tripping over each other, but it’s been fun, too. Tonight we’re all looking forward to a barbecue that’s being given by a Dutch project developer for us and the crew of some of the other yachts anchored off the coast of Panama City. It appears that he and his family live in a beautiful house in a rich suburb of the city. Towards the end of the party, one of the host’s friends gives me money to pay for the journey through the canal. Totally surprised, I thank him for his generosity. I say goodbye to my line-handlers and am kindly taken back to Guppy by car.

  Panama

  In the evening, Jillian and I go to the Shakira concert. Not that we’re such fans of hers, but we’ve been listening to the sound-check from a distance all day and the teenagers on Rhythm have asked us to come along. It’s good fun, even though we can’t hear each other speak for all the noise, and we eventually motor back to Guppy in the dinghy at two in the morning. Now to catch a few hours of sleep before Jillian flies back to New York tomorrow morning.