One Girl One Dream

by Dekker, Laura

  Galápagos

  Although it’s incredibly hot, the water temperature is really cold for the Equator. This is due to the cold Humboldt Current that sweeps up the length of South America.

  Sea lions are lying all over the dinghy jetty, and the only way to get ashore is to step over them. They don’t like that, and the first time I try to reach land I’m unable to pass them. They grunt and threaten me because they see me as an intruder in their territory, but I eventually succeed. At Customs, they tell me that they first need to see my fumigation form. When I ask them why it’s called ‘fumigation’, they explain that in the past ships arriving would be smoked out and the crew weren’t permitted on board for two days. They assure me that Guppy doesn’t need to be fumigated in this way, and a little later I take a taxi to the village and ask for directions to the office where I can drop off this form. But it’s not as easy as that . . . First an official needs to come on board to inspect Guppy for vermin and I’m warned that any fresh food that’s found will be confiscated. Once on board, I have 10 minutes to eat my last apple. A kind of paste is smeared into all the nooks and crannies to kill any vermin that may still be present. I can now pick up the form that says that Guppy has been fumigated and is free of vermin and contagious diseases. The following morning I’m back at the Customs Office for my clearance stamp. You do, of course, need to pay for the stamp, the fumigation papers and the time spent on the island. You have a choice of 10 or 20 days. Ten days should do, and I also pay for my entry to the Galápagos National Park.

  The animal world on the islands is very special; there are sea lions everywhere, enormous iguanas and giant tortoises that are world famous. There’s a heavy swell in the bay and at night the wind drops, which causes Guppy to roll heavily. It’s so bad that I’m thrown from one side of the bunk to the other. Just when I was hoping to have an uninterrupted night’s rest! I honestly managed to sleep better out at sea. In the morning, I wake up covered in bruises. As always, it feels strange to break my wonderful rhythm at sea for the busy life on land.

  I walk to the Charles Darwin Centre with Mike and Deana. We see many giant tortoises, including George who is more than a hundred years old and is the last of its kind. The name ‘giant tortoise’ is certainly no exaggeration, because George weighs 300 kilos. The Charles Darwin Centre has posted a reward of $10,000 for anyone who can find a female Pinta Tortoise, in an attempt to save this species.

  When the sun is high in the sky, we decide to go surfing. But where? We hear that Tortuga Beach is a good spot, so Mike fetches his surfboard from the boat and we get there after a walk of about half an hour. It’s my first attempt at surfing. Mike says I’m a natural when I manage to stay on the board the first time I try it. Probably a bit of beginner’s luck and the fact that the waves aren’t that high. But I’m keen to learn, and continue surfing until it gets dark. On our way back, I decide to practise this more often; it’s a fantastic sport.

  I’m woken up by Mike on the VHF. He tells me to have a look over the side of the boat . . . There are dozens of small black-tip sharks swimming around Guppy. Stunning to see how they’re looking for their prey with their gliding movements. This place really has the most amazing animal life. I walk across Santa Cruz together with Mike and Deana to a place where there are more giant tortoises. They must be the slowest animals on earth! Unfortunately, it’s all very touristy and a bit disappointing. They really try to make money out of everything. The ‘wild’ tortoises are not even in their natural environment, and there are at least 40 people around them with cameras. We decide to leave.

  In the afternoon, we meet people from Sea Shepherd who run all sorts of conservation projects here. They protect the tortoises and give presentations at schools. They teach children to leave the tortoises alone and to handle nature with respect. They patrol the coast in boats to prevent illegal fishing, and have a special programme to protect the different shark species in these waters.

  Guppy is still rolling like mad at her anchorage, while I go on as many tours as possible and make new discoveries every day. I visit a crystal-clear lake that lies between some cliffs on the island together with Mike, Deana, Gordon and Joy. You can jump into it from a height of about 10 metres which, naturally, I can’t resist for long. Great fun, but very painful if you make a bad landing.

  I do the half-hour walk to the beach to surf nearly every day, and I’m picking it up fast. Diving around the Galápagos Islands is also very special. I join a group to dive at Gordon Rocks. While swimming through the Galápagos underwater world, we see mantas, many colourful fish, different sharks and even a group of hammerheads! We are hoping to see a whale shark that was spotted here yesterday, but this giant eludes us. All the sharks we’ve seen more than compensate for this, though. The water down here is very cold and, despite wearing a 7-millimetre-thick wetsuit, I’m almost frozen when I get back on board. Even with the outside temperature being 37 degrees, it takes me two hours to warm up again.

  It’s 3 May today — exactly a year since Guppy was lowered into the water and I sailed the first few metres. A year later, she’s covered more than 8000 nautical miles and is lying off the Galápagos Islands. This has to be celebrated! I spend the whole day making her spic and span. Not only inside, but also the body and hull. Armed with goggles, snorkel and putty-knife, I spend hours under the boat to clear the hull of algae and crustaceans. It’s hard work, but it’s got to be done every month because they grow at such a rapid rate in these tropical waters.

  The rest of the day I spend repairing small things that have broken along the way and checking that all the systems on board are in good running order. The diesel tank is full again and I have enough food. I just need to top up the water and then Guppy will be ready for the 3000-mile crossing to the Marquesas Islands. I’ll stay here for a few more days, but certainly not for the wonderful anchorage. Guppy is still rolling terribly and life on board is not much fun in this bay.

  In the morning, another island visitor of about my age and I plan to go on shore to go to the fruit market, do some washing and then visit Isla Isabella. It’s an island 40 miles further up, which you can’t visit in your own boat without a special permit. I don’t have a permit, of course, so we are to be taken there by a local fisherman. It’s apparently very beautiful, not that touristy and it has penguins . . . on the Equator? I have to see this, of course.

  The fruit market is nothing special and is crawling with vermin. I buy some apples and pears and then fetch my dirty washing. My washing hasn’t seen any soap since Panama and I’ve run out of clean clothes. I walk to the laundrette with a bulging bag of sheets and clothes. I manage to fill the only washing machine and do the remaining half by hand. Back on Guppy everything is soon dry, thanks to the heat.

  I pack my bag and we go to the boat that’s going to take us to Isla Isabella. It’s about two hours’ sailing over a choppy sea. We moor off the village of Isabella, which consists of a few sand roads, some houses and two small hostels. We bump into the Rhythm crew who are here on a three-day tour and this is their last island. They are staying for two nights just like us, and have booked a hotel.

  ‘That’s great. May we put our bags in your rooms?’ we ask them.

  ‘Sure, where is your hotel?’ they ask.

  ‘We’re sleeping on the beach,’ we say and point out the sleeping bags that are tied to our bags.

  We hire surfboards and surf until the sun goes down.

  Sleeping on the beach is less successful. What a lot of mosquitoes! After an hour we pick up our sleeping bags and run off screaming to look for a better spot. We end up sleeping at the end of a long jetty, but the tide rises during the night and we are woken by the splash of a wave in our faces. We go to the other side of the jetty and fall asleep to the soothing sound of waves. The first thing I see when I wake up and open one eye is a crab right in front of my nose. Argh! We are surrounded by an army of big red crabs! We wake up instantly, but once we’ve chased the crabs off our sleeping bags and ge
ar, the world looks a little better and we can laugh about it.

  We go surfing, catch a ride into the mountains and spend a lot of time in the harbour where there are dozens of sea lions and penguins swimming around. After two wonderful but tiring days, we go back to Puerto Ayora in another fishing boat.

  I’m glad to be back and to see Guppy again. I borrow some jerry cans and, together with Mike, fetch water to fill up my tanks. We return the jerry cans and, while Mike removes the refuse, I take a shower on shore near the laundry. I feel reborn as I step back on Guppy. I’m so exhausted that I’m dizzy and can’t take another step. . . I fall into a deep sleep within minutes while Guppy continues to dance the salsa in the swell.

  I feel much better after I wake up and enjoy a breakfast of French toast and maple syrup. A boat comes alongside Guppy. It’s the director of Sea Shepherd, Alex, who gives me two huge bunches of green bananas. I give him a tour of Guppy, and then he motors back to shore in his boat after wishing me a good voyage.

  In the meantime, Mike is cleaning his hull and I jump in the water to help him. When we’ve finished this chore two hours later, I make banana pancakes on R Sea Kat for the last time. We’re sad as our paths are going to part tomorrow. I’ll continue going west, while they’ll go north towards Alaska. Mike and Deana are probably the best sailing friends I’ve made and the most special.

  As always, I’m longing to leave the day before my departure. Guppy and I are yearning for the Marquesas and we’re ready to go. Hopefully the winds will be favourable this time. A few hours before a long ocean crossing like this, I’m always a bit nervous. Am I sure I haven’t forgotten something? Do I have enough food, liquids, etc, on board? I’m always worried that I’ve forgotten something, but as soon as I’ve sailed off, everything usually feels fine and I sail to meet the ocean with a big smile. Oh yes, now I know what I forgot . . . my blog! The photographs! I download the last of my photos onto my site and write a blog at the internet café. I give one of the banana bunches that I received from Alex to R Sea Kat and we raise our anchors together.

  Galápagos–Hiva Oa: 3000 nautical miles

  DAY 1: 8 May

  The high seas roll over Guppy’s bow; R Sea Kat hoots one last time and our ways part. The waves are crashing over the deck while I hoist the mainsail. My course is close to the wind and Guppy is sailing well heeled over. It’s cloudy, and wave after wave lands in the cockpit, but Guppy is sailing at a good 7 knots. I wipe away a last tear as R Sea Kat and Santa Cruz disappear from sight. After two hours of good sailing the wind improves, but the speed drops to 2 knots. There must be an enormous tidal current to cause this. Slowly the last island, Isabella, disappears and I have only ocean around me.

  At 06.00, I check the SSB radio. I hear R Sea Kat faintly, but unfortunately they can’t hear me. I listen to some of the chatting on the SSB while eating the last piece of banana bread that Deana gave me the day before our departure. Discovery appears to be 30 miles away and Rhythm is leaving either today or tomorrow. I’m feeling well. Guppy is sailing at more than 6 knots and is a lot steadier in the water than she was at anchor in Academy Bay.

  I’ve said hello and goodbye for the umpteenth time; hoisted the sails to go to the next set of unknown tropical islands, but for the first time it feels really good. The dip that I usually experience on the first day after my farewells doesn’t come this time. Instead, I’m standing on the aft deck holding on to the rigging and enjoying the ocean, while worshipping the sun and letting a thousand thoughts run through my mind. I love daydreaming while I look out over the sea. How will this trip go? How many days will it take? How much wind will I have and how will I feel? What do the Marquesas look like? So many questions and so much to dream about. Before I know it, the sun is setting again. I cook spaghetti and wait for 18.00 to switch on the SSB and, hopefully, make contact with R Sea Kat or one of the other yachts.

  DAY 2: 9 May

  I’ve just finished throwing some flying fish and squid off the deck when I come eye to eye with a bird. It’s about 10 centimetres from my nose, perched on the sprayhood and swinging to the movement of the waves. When I turn around, I see that its mate has landed on the solar panel rack. I notice a loose cord and decide to fix it before I give them a sermon.

  While the birds listen patiently to me, I tell them that they’re welcome so long as they do their business off my boat and don’t come inside to distract me. They look at me quizzically and I decide to drop the speech. The birds stay where they are and I go and read a book in the cockpit. There’s more wind today and it’s cloudy. Wave after wave lands in the cockpit. I’m just sitting on the toilet and holding on when an enormous wave turns Guppy into a swimming pool. Despite the sprayhood, saltwater flows halfway through the cabin. I mop up as much as possible and then take a seat in the companionway. The cockpit is wet and so are my cushions, which, fortunately, weren’t swept overboard. Grrr! Bloody wave!

  The sun slowly sinks into the sea and the day makes way for the night. I’ve made macaroni cheese tonight, but it doesn’t taste that good to me today and I have to force myself to eat some. The world around me is tinted orange, red, purple, inky blue and then, finally, black. I pick up my sleeping rhythm again while Guppy gallops on faithfully.

  DAY 3: 10 May

  I’m reading a book in the cockpit while a heavy, long swell rolls under Guppy. That’s until a wave breaks over Guppy and soaks both me and my book . . . I curse the wave and continue reading my soaked book. It’s my third day at sea and it already feels so familiar. It was great being on Galápagos and Santa Cruz, but I’m certainly not missing the anchorage there. Back at sea, I’m slowly catching up on my sleep, but I do need to get up every hour to check that Guppy is going in the right direction and that nothing else has gone wrong. I’ve got used to that. Anyway, I now dive into my bunk at eight in the evening so that I get all the rest I need. In this way I wake at daybreak and am totally refreshed.

  Another 2480 miles to go, which means that I have the first 500 behind me. Up until now, everything is going well and I’m feeling fine. The wind has been very kind to me, too. Life at sea is wonderfully simple. The days come and go in more or less the same way, every day. In the morning, I’m in contact with other ships via the SSB, and the rest of the day I’m either reading, checking the course, trimming the sails, getting rid of the flying fish and squid that come on deck, or eating bananas.

  Unfortunately, there were two stowaways in my bunch of bananas; two huge cockroaches that immediately got a burial at sea from me. I show a little more mercy to another stowaway, a cute little lizard that is welcome to stay on board for a few more thousand miles.

  DAY 4: 11 May

  At last I hear about Rhythm’s location via the SSB. They are 420 miles behind me. They left two days later with the notion that they might catch up with me, but Guppy is a lot faster than they think. With the much bigger Rhythm behind me, it’s a challenge to get Guppy to sail even faster. There’s a wonderful breeze and, according to the chart, the current is adding half a knot to our speed which rarely drops below 7.5 knots and usually sits at about 8 knots, while Rhythm is sailing at 7 knots.

  I haven’t passed any ships or seen a dolphin, but the number of stranded flying fish and squid on Guppy increases daily. When I get up in the morning, the deck sometimes looks like a marine cemetery! My feathered passengers, who sailed with me for two days, left today. They had enjoyed a good rest and were ready for the next stage of their journey to some unknown destination. Sea birds seem to be constantly in search of fish and skim over the waves for days, diving into the sea and then flying on over the tops of waves, dipping their wings, only to rise with the next wave. Well, now I’m alone again. My resident lizard has gone into hiding . . . I’m enjoying the lovely weather; a strong beam wind and a clear blue sky with the odd, lost puff of cloud. If it stays this way, I don’t need to see any land on the horizon for a while.

  After the busy life and bad nights at anchor off Santa Cruz, I’m now fully rec
overed and ready to get back into my schoolwork. For some reason or other, this day goes by faster than yesterday. I read, gaze at the water, cook, write my blog, trim the sails, and before I know it another day has gone. The sun sinks into the sea, the air cools down and the night moves in like a dark blanket. I switch on the radar, creep into my bed on the low side, and gently sway into dreamland.

  DAY 5: 12 May

  The blanket of the night disappears over the horizon and a new day breaks. Squeak, crackle, pop . . . The daily hour for sailors on the SSB radio has begun, and I try to interpret some of the crackly English that comes from the black box in front of me. Sometimes the sound is clear; at other times, not that good. One boat is easier to follow than the next, and when you can’t get hold of one particular boat, the conversation continues via one or two other boats. It’s the only way of finding out the locations of the different yachts in the ocean. The coordinates that are passed on by various people on the SSB make it clear to me that I’m not the only one sailing in the Pacific.