One Girl One Dream

by Dekker, Laura

  DAY 6: 6 June

  It’s slowly getting lighter. Going on deck without getting wet has become impossible, as Guppy seems to be practising to be a submarine. The waves are still flying over the deck, but I’ve got used to that again. The transparent flap in front of the hatch is down and I’m looking at the radar screen from the low side of the couch. I’m spending most of the day below deck, sleeping, reading and playing with the cameras, but they, too, seem to be having trouble with the salty conditions and aren’t working as they should.

  In the afternoon, there’s a cargo ship on a collision course that’s not responding. Hmm . . . Not good, as I don’t know whether they are aware of me. Luckily, I know it’s there and manage to avoid it.

  About 30 miles from Tahiti, I suddenly see lights on the horizon. Yes, land ahead! Gup and I have decided to enter the pass through the reef to Papeete by night. I’ll anchor her somewhere in the harbour across the channel and look for a better anchorage tomorrow. There’s a good one 5 miles further on, past a number of reefs, but it’s not a good idea to do this bit in the dark.

  As night falls, I’m at the chart table studying the approach details while listening to a Tahitian radio station. I don’t understand much French, but that doesn’t matter. This is Tahiti! Unbelievable! French Polynesia always seemed the most beautiful part of my voyage to me.

  Around midnight, I’m approaching the pass that leads into Papeete through the reef. The leading lights correspond with what the charts show me, but as we enter the pass the thunder of breaking waves on the reefs is ever closer and nerve-racking . . . I keep a sharp eye on the leading lights, and after a while Gup and I pass into calmer waters. Yes, I’m really proud of myself and Guppy. We’ve succeeded in coming through the reefs that surround Tahiti at night in bad weather without damage. When I wake up the next day and look at the reefs we’d gone through during the night, I shudder.

  The passage from Hiva Oa to Tahiti was one of the most hazardous so far. There are lots of reefs in this region and many ships perish here. You need to think ahead all the time; know exactly where you are and make sure you keep your distance from the reefs. The danger is that you can be hit by a heavy squall at any given moment, during which you aren’t always able to steer the boat in the direction you wish to. The good thing about the reefs that circle Tahiti is that the waves break on them. Once you get inside the reefs, it’s safe and calm.

  Tahiti

  Clearing in goes smoothly and I spot some sailors I know as I walk back. They tell me about the other yachts in the bay. I can now see the reefs clearly in the calm waters as I sail the last 5 miles to the anchorage.

  I anchor Guppy in the crystal blue waters between Papeete and Punaauia. It’s 10 metres deep and I can see the anchor clearly. The beautiful silhouette of Moorea is on the horizon, and I’m admiring this view when I hear my name being called. I see Jillian walking in the distance, but I don’t feel like putting the dinghy together, so I dive straight into the clear, warm water while Jillian waits patiently on the beach.

  ‘Typically Laura’ is Jillian’s first comment when I get to shore and wring most of the water out of my clothes. We walk to the marina to find out what a berth costs, but this is way over my budget. Not a problem, I’m fine just where I am. Jillian is staying in a hotel in Papeete and we’re just trying to figure out what a bus ticket costs when a woman at the bus stop offers to help us. She counts out the coins and then donates the fare and refuses to take it back.

  Papeete is very big and modern. Seeing so many people, motorways, traffic jams and a McDonald’s takes some getting used to after two months. Besides the bustle, Tahiti is beautiful; very green with lots of tall mountains and very friendly people.

  We catch a ride to the marina with three surfies who have just been surfing at Teehoopoo and enjoy a $10 ice cream. My most expensive ice cream ever! But one of the best, with chocolate, vanilla, coconut, whipped cream and cinnamon.

  As I’d swum ashore, we wait at the dinghy dock for someone to give us a ride to Guppy. It takes forever and we decide to walk to a spot close to Guppy to swim across. As we’re walking off, we pass a man with a surfboard on his way to the dinghy dock. Jillian and I turn and follow him to ask if he will give us a ride.

  ‘Yes, of course. Aren’t you the girl from Guppy? I think my friend Paul just gave you girls a ride.’ Small world! We start to chat, and while Adrian takes us back to Guppy he tells us that there’s a better anchoring spot on the opposite side of the bay. And so I heave up the anchor and take her over.

  We swim to Adrian’s boat and ask him where the internet reception is good. He offers to take us into town. We go to a big square with lots of stalls that sell cheap but good food. We then sit outside a café where Adrian waits for Paul. Paul is here with his yacht Kipuku, and is working to earn some money to be able to continue his voyage. He comes from Australia and has spent seven months on Tahiti. He’s working on a mega-yacht here and isn’t planning to leave French Polynesia just yet. Paul takes us to a park where they’re practising Tahitian dance and drum performances for the festival planned for July. It’s awesome, and I end up learning a few more French words. Paul gives us a ride back in a car that he traded for a fishing rod. I can’t help wondering who got the better deal. A friend of his who borrowed the car managed to lose the keys, so now he starts the car by connecting two wires and using either an ice cream stick or a screwdriver to turn the ignition. It’s a miracle it doesn’t fall apart, but the engine keeps on running.

  The next day Paul takes us to see a few stunning waterfalls off the beaten track in his wreck of a car. After travelling down a long, sandy road meant for four-wheel-drives, we come to a river. From here, we walk through rivers, over rocks and past pretty little waterfalls and finally get to a huge waterfall in a beautiful, green valley. Paul and I jump into the water and swim in the direction of the waterfall. Jillian is hesitant to join us as she swims under some trees that have fallen over in the water.

  ‘Come on!’ I shout.

  We are swimming against the current and the wind generated by the cold water plunging over the edge. Paul has climbed onto the rocks and is ready to dive into the waterfall. I follow — what an awesome feeling this is! After a while, Jillian also takes the plunge. We get cold and swim back to enjoy the beautiful view of the waterfall and eat a coconut. When we get back to the car, Paul shows us the waterfalls on the tourist route, but swimming is not allowed here and they are no longer idyllic. We decide to go back, but first visit some surfing spots and a blowhole. This is an extraordinary geological phenomenon that results when sea caves tunnel inland and have a hole near the surface. This means that seawater can suddenly spout into the air. I’d never heard of it and was an easy victim for Paul when he told me to peer down the hole. The result: a rush of seawater in my face.

  We fill up with petrol, eat at McDonald’s, get some groceries and figure that we could use Paul’s mooring. He is leaving for a while and it’s a much better spot. But then Adrian appears to tell us that he’ll be using it. He agrees to let Guppy tie up alongside and the problem is solved. When Paul leaves for Moorea on Kipuku the next morning, we rearrange the yachts.

  Today, Jillian and I take up the offer of borrowing Paul’s car. After connecting the wires and starting the car with a screwdriver, I tell Jillian she can drive. But being American, Jillian has never driven a car with manual gear changes. I’m 15 and don’t have a driver’s licence, so she’s going to give it a try. I slowly start to lose confidence in Jillian’s driving ability and after 10 minutes and several narrow misses, she stops the car on the roadside and refuses to go any further. Dad has taught me to drive on deserted parking grounds and some quiet roads, and so Jillian reckons I should drive. I need to get used to it a bit, and practise at a big parking lot further on. I’m enjoying it, and after a while feel confident enough to drive through the traffic and onto the motorway.

  We stop at an ice-cream parlour and find a mango. Then we swim at a pretty beach, b
efore driving further and further inland until we find ourselves on the other side of the island. It’s much greener and less busy here. It’s all going well, until we need to climb a very steep hill . . . Jillian observes that the cars in front of us are producing a lot of fumes, but while I’m looking at the smoky scene on the road I suddenly realise that it’s not the other vehicles but our own car that is smoking! I turn the car and drive down to the fuel station I saw five minutes ago on the way up. Halfway there, the engine stalls and we freewheel the last mile to come to a stop at the sign with the fuel prices. People come to our aid, but how to open the bonnet? As expected, the handle for this purpose is missing. I eventually manage to open it with some pliers and we can now get to the engine. The water level appears to be too low, but when we try to fill it, it drips out of the radiator. We have to make frequent stops to top the water up for the rest of the day. This explains the jerry can of water in the car. Hmm . . . That’s something Paul forgot to tell us about!

  It suddenly starts to pour with rain and it takes us a while to find out how the windscreen wipers work; something else that doesn’t work as it should. On the way, we see some funny sights, such as a boy holding onto a rope tied to a bridge and surfing on the current of a river. We drive all the way around the island until we are back on the motorway to Papeete. We want to go to McDonald’s in the city centre, and getting us there safely is the first real test of my driving ability.

  Petrol and food are very expensive here. It all costs two to three times more than in the Netherlands, which is not strange when you consider that everything has to be brought to the island by either ship or plane.

  We had forgotten all about the mango we’d plucked from a tree earlier that day, and when we get back to the marina we can’t find it. That’s until Jillian gets up and I start to laugh. She soon realises that my hilarity is directed at her bottom which is plastered with squashed mango. Still laughing, we walk down the jetty to the dinghy. I miss my footing and land in the water, much to everyone in the marina’s amusement. Anyway, it’s a great way to wash off the dust and heat after the long ride.

  After a shower, we visit the owners of a 40-metre yacht who had invited us to dinner. I’d met them at a barbecue earlier. It’s a lovely evening, with delicious food and good music. I then say farewell to Jillian who flies home to New York tonight.

  After two really busy days, I decide to take it easy and focus on the things that need to be done. I fill up the ‘wreck-on-wheels’ with water and drive into Papeete for some groceries. There’s no parking anywhere, and I drive around and around until I find a tiny space into which the car just fits. After picking up some supplies, I then drive to the Immigration Office to clear out, as I plan to leave the next morning. This is always quite a mission, mainly because they pose the most impossible questions: where you’re going to, what time exactly you are leaving, and where you plan to go on to from there and after there . . . As if I know! Guppy follows the wind and I go with her. I depart when it suits me and not according to what’s written on a piece of paper. Anyway, a little later all the documents carry big, fat stamps. I drive back through all the hustle and bustle and I am glad to see Guppy. The first thing I do: take a dive and decide to stay on Guppy tonight to watch one of the many movies I’ve exchanged with the other yachts.

  Tahiti–Moorea: 18 nautical miles

  DAY 1: 13 June

  Once I’ve topped up the diesel tanks, I raise the anchor and Guppy leaves Tahiti just before noon. The little wind there is comes from the direction we are heading for, but the waves aren’t high and we make our way out through the pass between the reefs with ease. Once at sea, I try tacking but Guppy’s speed is diminished by each wave. There’s just too little wind and I start the engine to make some headway. Suddenly a breeze springs up and it’s as if it’s saying ‘Hi, here I am!’

  Whoosh — more wind. Bang, clang, tinkle and I’m flattened to one side with everything that’s loose in the cabin. Guppy heels over heavily, but at least we’re moving in the right direction at 7 knots, thanks to the sudden gusts off the tall mountains. Whoosh! Damn waves! They’re building up fast. It’s going to be a short, rough but enjoyable trip.

  Towards 14:00 Moorea lies before us, and we’re soon surfing into the pass with the sea breaking on the reefs to the left and right. Between the mountains in Opunohu Bay the water is beautifully calm, and I drop the anchor near the other yachts.

  Moorea

  Although it’s only a few hours’ sail from Tahiti, Moorea is a totally different world. The island is much smaller and not so busy.

  There’s a family with four children between the ages of 11 and 15 on the big motor boat that’s anchored next to me. They’ve been making a round-the-world journey by plane with their parents for more than a year. When I tell them about my voyage, they want to sail around the world, too, but quickly change their minds when their parents tell them that you can’t just walk away when you’re on a boat together, and that you have to do all your own cooking, washing and groceries. The French captain of the motor boat is a fanatical sailor and has taken part in and won many competitions. He invites me to stay for dinner and starts to tell me all about his exploits. Such as the story about his crossing of the Atlantic Ocean in a Hobie Cat; a 5-metre open catamaran. It sounds like a stunt by a great daredevil, but not something I’d attempt; especially after he shows me some films of the action. Personally he thinks it’s all terrific.

  I treat myself to a real holiday on my first day in Moorea. I swim, read, eat and paddle around the whole bay in my dinghy. I don’t really feel the need to go ashore. The view of the island from Guppy is awesome. The water is a lovely blue colour, very clear and you can see easily 15 metres deep. I experience a fear of heights when I swim and look down. In the beginning I’d sometimes been anxious when sailing Guppy over crystal-clear water where I could see the bottom. It made it difficult to judge the depth and space between the rocks and Guppy’s keel. Good thing the depth-sounder brings the definitive answer.

  I wake up late the next day because I’ve spent half the night trying to download photographs onto my website; alas, without success. Half awake, I hear a dinghy tearing around the bend. It’s Paul, whose yacht is further up the bay. He asks me if I’d like to join a few people and visit a place where the stingrays and black-tip sharks eat out of your hand. But of course!

  We sail off on a neglected, homemade aluminium catamaran for about 3 miles to the swimming location. I’m not entirely at ease while standing in the water. I feed dead fish to the stingrays that are about one and a half metres long. They swim around calmly and bump up against you, even when you’re not feeding them. But I stay away from the sharks. There’s a sudden downpour with gusts of wind, and I shiver when I’m out of the water, but it’s been a great experience and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. We motor back and decide to tie Gup, the catamaran and Kipuku together for a party on board tonight. We also invite the crews from the two mega-yachts that are in the bay to join us.

  Guppy’s mainsail needs to be repaired, as it has worn from all the flapping when sailing on the calm days. Paul used to be a sailmaker in Australia and wants to help. We take the sail to the mega-yacht that he works on. Here they have a good sailmaker’s sewing machine on board and plenty of room. We work until it gets dark and starts to rain again. Oh well, we’ll just continue tomorrow. Paul takes me on a tour of the enormous yacht. Wow, everything is huge and so luxurious! Guppy’s 17-metre mast only just reaches the first of the five spreaders on this yacht’s mast.

  The party on our boats has begun, but I still have to send a blog off via the satellite phone that cheerfully continues to give me an error warning. My thumb is numb from texting, and I try it one last time and finally get text message sent in the display. It’s an awesome party and goes on until the early hours, but, fortunately for me, I don’t have to get up early for work in the morning like some of the others.

  I get to bed by 04.00, and it’s later for s
ome of the other party-goers, but I don’t have a hangover like most. I join Paul on the mega-yacht on which he works, and help him with some chores. It’s nice to meet the rest of the crew who weren’t at the party the previous night. At five o’clock, Paul is finished for the day and we can continue mending the sails. The sewing machine isn’t cooperating, and after two hours we take a break and then tackle the problem with renewed zeal. We spend a few more hours sewing Guppy’s mainsail in the bright lights of the mega-yacht. Just before midnight, the sail looks like new and we’ve sewn extra patches over all the worn areas, making it stronger than ever.

  In the morning, I’m about to take my bike ashore for a tour of the island when a dinghy from one of the mega-yachts comes alongside to invite me over. They’re a nice crew who sail around half the world and get paid for it. They usually have the whole mega-yacht to themselves, as the owner is seldom on board. At night, I try to upload some photographs for my site, but the internet is too slow.