One Girl One Dream

by Dekker, Laura

  I plan to sail to Las Perlas the day after tomorrow. The Minicat, my small inflatable catamaran, needs to be stowed and I need to buy a new cushion for the cockpit. The old one has sadly fallen apart, and it’s not much fun sitting on salt-encrusted wood for days on end. After folding away the Minicat, I accompany Deana to the shopping mall. It’s not easy to find a suitable cushion, but we succeed in the end. I spend the rest of the day tidying up. The six crew members have made a mess of Guppy and it takes some time getting her shipshape again.

  Once I’ve completed all my chores, I visit Salamander, a boat on the other side of the pier. One of the crew, Hilary, turns 19 today. It’s a great party, but at one in the morning I decide to go back to Guppy. I’m on my way back when I bump my injured toe really badly at the dinghy dock. I’m tired and dive into my bunk, bleeding toe and all.

  Panama–Las Perlas: 50 nautical miles

  DAY 1: 16 April

  At 07.00, I’m on the bow doing my morning exercise, raising the 30-metre anchor chain that has kept Guppy in her place for the past few days. R Sea Kat is right behind me and together we leave this big city, the dirty anchorage and the blanket of heat and smog that hangs over it. It’s cloudy and it remains that way. We don’t get to see the sun, but we do see plenty of marine life. After an hour’s sailing, I spot a whale. I call Mike on the VHF and shout: ‘I saw a whale!’

  A few hours later a ray jumps in front of the bow, then a shark passes by, and a little later some dolphins jump high out of the water. Each time I alert Mike, who’s sailing a few miles behind me, but besides some sedate dolphins, they don’t see much. After a tricky entry into Las Perlas, we anchor in front of these islands.

  Las Perlas

  It’s not really pretty here, and there are rocks jutting out of the water as the water ebbs. The difference between low and high tide is enormous compared with the Caribbean end of the Panama Canal. I show Mike the photographs I took of the animals I spotted. He and Deana had been asking themselves ‘What kind of crack is this girl smoking?’, but now they believe me. Ha, ha! I make popcorn, something that I’ve almost perfected and doesn’t come out black anymore. But I still manage to put in too much corn, with the result that the lid flies off the pot and popcorn shoots through the entire boat. Mike has taken care of my injured toe and it’s less painful. It might be sensible to wear shoes from now on.

  I wake up with a shock. Loud, cheerful music is coming through Guppy’s hull. I bounce out of bed and hit the low ceiling over my bunk. It sounds like Mike and Deana are awake . . . It’s a beautiful day and I quickly jump into some clothes. The sun is shining, there’s a little wind and, after enjoying some of Deana’s delicious banana bread, we set sail for Bahia Sel Telmar some 20 miles further on. I navigate Guppy through the many sharp rocks under full sail. The charts are incomplete and I need to stay focused. After an hour, the wind drops and the speed falls to a miserable 1.8 knots. There’s a little teasing breeze from time to time, but too much current to make any headway. Damn! I continue to knock my toe and it hurts like hell, but not enough for me to put on shoes. The sails are flapping around and my toe is throbbing. It has taken the whole day to cover 20 miles and we still have a few hours to go . . . In the meantime, R Sea Kat has had radio contact with Rhythm, who we’ve been trying to reach for some time. They are near Isla Contadora and may be coming this way tomorrow or the day after.

  We finally get to the bay of Isla del Rey, one of the Las Perlas Islands, at about five o’clock. It has a well-protected anchorage in front of an estuary with high cliffs, and it’s very green. I tie up alongside R Sea Kat, which spares me the sweaty task of heaving up the anchor again tomorrow. R Sea Kat has an electric anchor winch that raises the anchor in a few minutes. I was planning to give Guppy’s hull a good scrub, but change my mind when I feel the cold current and see all the jellyfish floating about.

  We’ve used the engines quite a bit the past few days and decide to top up our tanks at a fishing village called La Esmerelda further down the bay. We take a chance and carry the jerry cans with us in the dinghy. Mike speaks a little Spanish and is able to explain what we’re looking for. We follow two locals through the narrow, fishy-smelling streets. Children follow us at a distance, and curious eyes peer at us from everywhere. We’re taken to a shed with two rusty diesel tanks. We drag the full jerry cans to the beach in a cloud of flies. Mission accomplished. Now that was an interesting way of refuelling.

  I’m not feeling all that fit today; I don’t know why. I try to remain cheerful and I’m fairly successful. It’s high tide and we explore the river where we’re anchored in the dinghy. The surroundings are beautiful, but the water is brackish with more mud than water. It soon becomes too shallow and we decide to go back to our boats. Dinner is a lively event, but I go to bed early.

  Las Perlas–Galápagos: 900 nautical miles

  DAY 1: 19 April

  At 09.00 we let our lines go and R Sea Kat and Guppy are ready to race in the direction of the Galápagos Islands. There’s little wind and it will probably stay that way in the coming days. With the code zero, mainsail and mizzen up, Guppy is running at about 4 knots. The forecast for the next eight days doesn’t look any better, and I don’t really feel like making the crossing without wind. R Sea Kat thinks the same, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Even the dolphins and jumping rays can’t cheer me up. Ah well, it’s all part of the deal. We try to make radio contact with Rhythm and by the end of the day we manage to get hold of them. They are 50 miles behind us and are running at only 2.5 knots. The wind eventually falls away entirely and it’s our lot to float around in the ocean.

  I was just getting into my rhythm again, and I’m disappointed about this calm. Towards sunset, a pod of dolphins swims by to cheer me up. They dive under Guppy and swim close to the bow. They’re playing with the boat and jump right out of the water. I sit and watch this game for more than an hour. This is the longest dolphins have been alongside Guppy and given such a performance.

  The wind has now skedaddled entirely, and I take down the code zero while the most beautiful sunset banishes my bad mood. It’s like a painting, with a riot of red, yellow, purple, orange and pink tints all trying to outdo each other.

  DAY 2: 20 April

  An unexpected fresh wind springs up in the middle of the night and Guppy manages to gather speed to 7 knots so that we cover 140 miles in 24 hours. I sail past Punta Mala where there’s a great deal of cargo traffic, which doesn’t allow for any sleep.

  In the morning, the wind dies completely. I start the engine and try hoisting the code zero. Last night I had dropped this sail and secured it to the deck. Just as I’m loosening it this morning, a last blast of wind comes up, and before I know what’s happening the whole code zero is blown overboard. Fortunately, I still have it tied to a sheet and now try to get the sail back on deck with all my might, which isn’t easy. The water has made the sail very heavy, and the momentum of the boat and the rising wind don’t make it any easier. It means I have to stop the boat and use the winch to haul the sail back on board. Half an hour later, it’s done and I return to the cockpit. The code zero is up again and I’m thinking: Great move, Laura. Good start to the day!

  It’s going to be a very hot day with little wind and I try to stay cool by throwing buckets of water over myself. Towards the afternoon, I see two sharks swim by, but no dolphins today.

  The sun sets and it finally cools down to more human temperatures. I’m re-reading Tania Aebi’s book Maiden Voyage for the umpteenth time. I can’t tell you how often I’ve read this book, but it continues to thrill me. When my stomach begins to grumble, I heat up some of yesterday’s leftover macaroni and enjoy the sunset. With a bit of luck we should see the Galápagos Islands in eight days’ time. When we get to Santa Cruz, I want to pay a visit to the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society, which I support. Sea Shepherd helps all forms of marine life. On Galápagos there are protected tortoises that are 150 years old. That’s exactly 10 times my age . . .
I can’t wait!

  DAY 3: 21 April

  In contrast to yesterday, there’s totally no wind tonight and Guppy slowly glides across the moonlit sea. Thanks to the calm, I’m able to have a good night’s sleep. Towards morning there’s a gentle breeze and the speed moves up to 3 knots. Just then I feel an enormous bump! During the day I sometimes see whole trees floating by and that’s the first thing I think of. Shocked into action, I hang over the bow to see if Guppy has any damage. So far as I can see there is no visible damage. Fortunately, we were only going at a speed of 3 knots. Slowly but surely the breeze freshens and Guppy is in her element again. Luckily, there’s some welcome cloud coverage and I no longer have the feeling that I’m being cooked alive.

  I amuse myself by reading, adjusting the course and looking out over the ever-undulating blue ocean. At noon, I manage to contact Rhythm via the SSB. For some reason or other they can hear R Sea Kat, but not me. Well, at least I know that they’re about 40 miles behind me and should be within VHF radio contact within two days.

  Later, the wind dies again and I’m treated to some rain. It starts as a drizzle but soon comes pouring down. After five minutes, there’s 10 centimetres of rain in the bucket that I used to throw water over myself yesterday. I make myself some popcorn and carry on reading Maiden Voyage.

  After an hour it grows lighter and I’m on the other side of the rain front. Then the sun comes out. The wind has shifted and there’s now a headwind. With full sail, Guppy is running at 4 knots but not entirely in the right direction.

  The sun is setting again and I’m sitting on deck looking out at the infinite blue mass all around Guppy. The sea remains a mystery. It has a huge attraction for me, but that appeal is tinged with fear. You have to understand its infinite moods and make the best of the circumstances. The sea can change from being calm and gentle to a monster that will devour you from one moment to the next! However, the odds of being hurt in a car accident are far greater, as I came to realise on Bonaire.

  As the sun slowly sinks on the horizon, I’m staring ahead and thinking of home where everyone is fast asleep. I think of all the places I’ve been and the places yet to come. I’m curious about the Galápagos and look forward to crossing the Equator. I’ll be in the Southern Hemisphere again; the hemisphere in which I was born, learnt to walk and spent my first years at sea.

  DAY 4: 22 April

  After bobbing around the whole night, there’s some wind now. Thanks to another calm night, I’ve again been able to sleep well. There’s always someone on watch on R Sea Kat, floating a few miles behind me. Although my radar always detects anything first, I’m also able to respond to a shout on the VHF. I switch the radar alarm to a 300-degree angle so that it doesn’t pick up R Sea Kat and give a false alarm. That gives me some rest and I have one of the best nights ever at sea.

  Early in the morning I hear a loud hoot. Alarmed, I sprint on deck to see R Sea Kat at a distance of 20 metres from me and receive a cheerful ‘good morning’. Half asleep and sitting in the cabin entrance, I decide to have something to eat. After a little discussion with myself, my choice falls on a peanut butter sandwich. I’ve just finished reading Maiden Voyage again and select a new book.

  At 08.00, R Sea Kat and I try to reach Rhythm on the SSB. Just like yesterday, they can’t hear me on this frequency. They’re still 40 miles behind us and we don’t think they’ll be able to catch up with us anymore. I chat to the crew of another ship, the Connect 4, for a while, and listen to some of the other conversations on the net. In the meantime, the wind comes and goes and we alternate between motoring and sailing on the wind. Mike tells me over the radio how far we’ve come and how far we still have to go. I’ve stopped making any calculations and notice that it no longer interests me that much. Up until the San Blas Islands, I’d calculate the distances four times a day during a crossing. I just don’t do it anymore; just like the contact with family and friends in far-off places is also beginning to fade. I do get emails and text messages from time to time, but I really only communicate with Dad, and increasingly with my mum who’s slowly beginning to understand my dream a little better. There’s more empathy from her side, although she does let me know in her texts that she worries about me.

  I realise how lucky I am to have the parents I have. They may not be average parents, and they are too different to be able to live together, but they do have one thing in common: they both love me and show it. My mum a little later in my life than my dad, but then she didn’t see me grow up and we had little contact. I have the support of both of them when it comes to realising my dream. Without them, and especially without Dad’s support, I would never have been able to do this voyage.

  DAY 5: 23 April

  The sun and Mike shouting over the VHF wake me up and shake me out of my dream world and back to reality. I go up on deck and take in my little world: yep, I’m at sea, R Sea Kat is behind me and there’s wind. Wait a minute — did I say ‘wind’? At last! I switch off the engine and make myself a peanut butter sandwich, for a change. The sun rises and the wind fills Guppy’s sails.

  Mike calls me on the VHF: ‘Hey, there’s a big rain cloud hovering close by. Have you noticed?’

  Still a bit sleepy I answer: ‘Uh, no.’

  ‘It’s carrying a lot of rain,’ Mike warns.

  ‘Uh, yep.’

  ‘It’s going to miss me, but I think you’re going to be hit,’ he adds.

  ‘Oh, yes?’

  Only then do I look up.

  ‘Oh, shit!’

  A threatening black cloud is moving towards Guppy. I study the dark sky and figure that it probably carries more rain than wind, but one thing is sure: it’s coming straight our way. I put up the sprayhood, throw the books and cushions inside and grab the shampoo. Here comes the rain . . . hard rain, a downpour. I wash my hair and fill eight two-litre bottles and a bucket with freshwater. Before the rain came I’d been burnt by the sun, and now it’s cooled down beautifully. I wait until the shower is over in the comfort of the cabin. It slowly clears and I see R Sea Kat reappear on the horizon. There’s some wind and we are moving again. The rain has invigorated me and cheered me up. I put on some music and start to make some food. When I go on deck again with a saucepan that I set to dry, I’m swinging to the sound of the music when I spot some dolphins. Now I’m really happy and move to the bow to watch them for a while. In the meantime, the spaghetti has boiled over and my galley is once again a mess . . .

  I bring my spaghetti à la Laura up on deck and watch the dolphins. It looks like I’m getting a private performance with all the special stunts they’re doing for me. After about half an hour, the show is over and they disappear into the dark. I’m sailing into the night with a big smile on my face and listening to loud music. I would certainly welcome more days like today!

  DAY 6: 24 April

  It’s 02.00 in the middle of the night and I’m cooking pancakes. I woke up craving pancakes and just couldn’t sleep. Anyway, it’s far too hot to cook once the sun is up. I eat two and crawl back into my bunk with a satisfied feeling. I’ll have the rest of the pancakes for breakfast. A good beam wind continues to fill Guppy’s sails. I’m expecting to cross the Equator sometime between tomorrow night and the day after tomorrow. It’s good seafaring practice to make an offer to Neptune on this occasion. All sorts of suggestions came in via the SSB; a catch of fish, rum, bananas, a pair of goggles . . . Nothing seems to be too weird to appease Neptune, the god of the sea.

  DAY 7: 25 April

  Another 50 miles and I’ll leave the Northern Hemisphere behind me. This part of the ocean is a place of either calms or heavy storms, but I’ve had more than 24 hours of good wind. The excitement mounts as I expect to cross the Equator at about 22.00 — that’s if I can find it in the dark! From the Equator, the distance to the Galápagos is about 80 miles and I hope to be there before dark tomorrow.

  Late in the afternoon, R Sea Kat (who’s now sailing a few miles ahead of me) and I see another yacht, Double Di
amond, that we’d met earlier in Panama. The three of us set off for the Equator together. My voyage has been really enjoyable so far. I’ve had more wind than I expected and no rough seas, but there’s a very long 3-metre swell and Guppy is bobbing over it like a rubber duck.

  DAY 8: 26 April

  I’ve killed two birds with one stone: I’ve managed to find the Equator and the Galápagos Islands! It’s dark at the Equator, but the moment I reach it the sky is lit by lightning and Neptune rises above the sea to admire Guppy . . . I open my eyes, but there’s just the darkness, no flashes of light and no Neptune. I step out of my dream to check my position. We’re still 20 miles away from the magical latitude.

  R Sea Kat, Double Diamond and Guppy pass the Equator with a blast of music at 21.00. Having heard that Neptune has a weakness for pancakes, I’ve made an offering of a special pancake with a drawing of Guppy on it. Crossing the Equator feels just like New Year’s Eve. Yes, I’ve reached another milestone. After the celebrations, I decide to go to sleep. Double Diamond and R Sea Kat promise to look out for me. When I wake up an hour later, Double Diamond has disappeared from sight and I’m alone with R Sea Kat.

  After a few more catnaps, we reach the island of Santa Cruz in the morning. There’s a lot of wind and we race to our destination over the last few miles towards land. The anchorage is busy; not only with yachts, but big motor boats, too. The anchorage appears to be a bad one and the anchor doesn’t hold. So I have to heave the 30 metres of chain back up on board. While I’m busy doing this, two men appear on board and tell me that I need help. Help? I flip and tell them to get off my boat immediately. R Sea Kat, who’s watching everything from a distance, phones me to let me know that they are keeping an eye on them. The two men appear to be from Immigration. OK, well, now that they’re here, they can raise the anchor if they really want to. After 3 metres, they decide it’s too heavy and let all 60 metres of anchor chain rattle into the water . . . I’m livid and let them heave the chain up themselves. I then sail Guppy to another spot to check if it’s any better. Fortunately, the anchor is holding now. The men from Immigration leave with the instruction that I need to clear in at their office soon. A little later, I accompany Mike and Deana to do just that. Next we bump into Gordon and Joy from Promise. It’s great to see them.