DAY 4: 30 July
I can’t sleep tonight as I have a feeling that something is looming over me. At 04.00 a mass of squalls with heavy thunder and rain sweeps over Guppy. Party time! It’s an unbelievable spectacle with Guppy surfing before the wind and waves. She may be able to handle the strong wind better on this course, but we are now sailing in totally the wrong direction. I adjust the sails so that we can return to the correct course, but then the wind changes again and we are once more on the wrong path . . . At 05.00, I join the SSB channel as I’m awake anyway and my fellow sailors are happy to hear from me.
Finally it’s getting light but the wind drops — slap, bang, slap. Oh no, not again! I decide to furl in the genoa, which is flapping from side to side, and start the engine. As I step into the cockpit, I almost fall over a bird that’s casually sitting on the seat staring out to sea. It looks totally exhausted and remains where it is, right in my path. I give it some bread and water, but it doesn’t respond to the food. Hmm, sea birds should like fish . . . The only fish I have is tinned herring fillets in tomato sauce, but it turns its beak up at this, too! I leave my offering where it is in case it changes its mind.
A slightly bigger wave makes me shift my position and my hand lands in something soft. The entire cockpit is covered in bird shit, and I’ve managed to trawl my lifeline through it, too. Argh, this means that this mess is inside the cabin, too . . . I’ve just nicknamed the bird Messy!
Although I know that I’m really close now, the land isn’t visible because I’m surrounded by squalls. I steer Guppy into the bay at Port Vila in an afternoon drizzle and drop the anchor. Messy is not that interested in land and decides to stay on Guppy. As expected, I can only clear in on Monday, and I now look forward to a quiet evening with calmer winds and a beautiful view of Port Vila.
Port Vila
After the previous night at sea with squalls and thunder, I think I’m going to get a good night’s rest, and dive into my salty, clammy bed early in the evening. After two hours, I’m still awake and decide to get up. It’s lovely in the cockpit with the city lights in the distance. I strum my guitar the whole night through, accompanied by the sound of the waves washing on the beach. At one stage I compose a really nice piece of music, but then I fall asleep.
I wake up early again to find that I’ve managed to forget last night’s lovely composition and notice that Messy is still with me. I meet my Dutch neighbour, who’s been here on his boat for so long that he really isn’t Dutch anymore. I decide to join him at a beach party this evening where I meet some new people. Needless to say, at the party I have to try the local kava from Vanuatu. Once, but never again! This one is even stronger and more disgusting than the one I tasted in Fiji. After a nice evening, I walk back to Guppy and see Sogno d’Oro’s lights in the distance from the beach. It’s late and I think that Henk would prefer to sleep. There will be time enough tomorrow when I will also have to do the Custom clearance rounds.
Clearance seems to be fairly easy here, except that I have to pay for each bit of paper and every stamp. This always annoys me, and so does the weather, because it’s started to rain again and my washing, which was almost dry, is now getting soaked while I’m in town. But never mind, there will be another sunny, dry day. After completing clearance, I wander through the town, and in the evening I have a drink with other sailors and island residents at a kava bar. I’ve dragged Henk along and he’s still trying to figure out whether he likes it or not. I find kava disgusting but enjoy the company. Some people drink too much and then their legs don’t work that well. Kava has a kind of numbing effect — your head remains clear, but your body no longer responds to your brain.
When I get back to Guppy in the evening, Messy has disappeared. I can now start cleaning up all the bird shit.
I wake up with the wind whistling through the rigging, and it’s quite chilly for someone who’s got used to a warm climate. There are always boats arriving and departing at every anchorage. Some have left, including Sogno d’Oro. I give Henk a few days’ head start and am thinking about clearing out and leaving on Monday.
There’s a 35-knot wind howling through the anchorage while I’m fighting hard with the internet again. It’s either disconnecting constantly or so slow that I really can’t work with it. But there’s a solution for everything and even the internet can’t beat Guppy-power . . . I walk to another café a little further on, which I’d discovered also has internet and which has just opened. I try to get an internet connection and do my best with all the settings on the computer, but fail. After asking the staff to check whether there’s a problem on their end one more time, they discover that they’d forgotten to switch it on! I finally manage to get my blog on the site and run through my emails.
Now that I’ve been here for a few days, I’m getting to know more and more people, including a local family who has lived here for generations. They ask me if I’m interested in a tour of the island. Of course I am! It’s great and includes a drive up a high mountain with an awesome view. I can see Guppy lying below between all the colours of the water, which range from light to dark blue. Towards evening we drive back and I enjoy a meal with them on their patio before they take me back to Guppy.
It’s exactly a year since my departure from the Netherlands, but it feels like I’ve been away for much longer. I’ve got so used to life at sea and moving from one island to the next that I haven’t missed the Netherlands for a moment. Especially not the Child Welfare and Child Protection Board or, rather, the Board of Tricks and Deception and Youth Destruction! Although it would be great to see Kim, Spot, my parents and my friends again. I’m feeling down because I’ve just found a USB stick with photographs taken a year before my departure; the year the authorities and the secret service AIVD tried everything to destroy me. The Hurley 800 in which I would have done my voyage had been confiscated and my new Guppy was standing under the bare trees, totally stripped and without portholes. I’m as white as a sheet and look like a ghost, and I can still recall exactly how I felt at that time. How much I longed to be where I am now and thought that it would never happen. Fortunately, I never gave up. It seemed so close yet so far out of reach then. I’m so thankful for everything Dad did for me in that period; and without my lawyer, Peter de Lange, I’d probably be in protective custody right now . . . But I’m free and that year now seems far away; as if it were in another lifetime. Something that never happened. A vague dream. But as soon as I see these photographs, I feel all the pain I had then; as if someone were twisting a knife in my heart. So why don’t I just throw these photographs away? Because of the trauma the authorities caused me; because of my stepfather, who, together with the authorities, influenced my mother’s opposition to the voyage. I don’t want to be reminded of it, but at the same time am drawn to and sometimes have to see these photographs; only to promise myself never to look at them again. I neeeeever want to feel that way again. Will I ever be rid of the pain that I feel? All the traumatic things that happened crushed me, and the wound still hasn’t healed. I feel it aching when I see the photographs. It still hurts when someone asks me about that time or when I read something about it. I weep all morning and feel awful. I’d despair if there were any paparazzi here now. There is so much to remind me of that black hole I was in. Even now, the Dutch authorities continue to bother me and try to put me in as bad a light as possible. That’s why I’ve come to a decision during the last crossing that I’m never going back to the Netherlands.
I’m sailing to the Caribbean to fulfil my dream of sailing around the world, and then I will sail on to New Zealand to try to build a new life for myself. There are still many nights at sea for me and Guppy, and I will sail wherever the wind takes us; far, far away from that dark little country behind the dykes.
In the afternoon, I’m walking through town when I find something that I can focus on, something that will make me forget my present mood. I find a 12-string guitar on my walk back. Unfortunately, it’s quite expensive. I could
buy it tax-free and quite a bit cheaper once I’ve cleared Customs, but they don’t want to give me a clearance stamp before I depart. I have an alternative plan, but the shop doesn’t go along with it: to sell me the guitar for the full price and then pay me the difference once I have the clearance stamp. I’m just about to accept defeat and walk out of the shop when they change their minds and give me a big discount. They’ve seen me come into the shop often to look at the guitar and like the idea that I really want it.
Back on Guppy, I immediately try out my new acquisition. What a beautiful instrument this is and what an awesome sound it makes! I’m so happy with my purchase and it’s not that much more difficult to play than a normal guitar. I get Guppy ready for departure between strumming my new guitar. All I still need to do is to fill up with water and diesel. I plan to leave for Darwin in a few days’ time; a crossing of about three weeks. I should get there well before my sixteenth birthday. A milestone! Dad has already let me know that he’s keen to join me in Darwin, but before that there are a couple of things that I need to check. The waterlock on the Yanmar is leaking again, in a different spot this time; the stern light has stopped working and it’s not the light bulb; and I need to replace the steering lines of the windvane and inspect the entire rigging, of course.
I move Guppy to the wharf where she’s allowed to stay for a day. I decide to stow the dinghy as I won’t be needing it now, and almost fall overboard in the process. I’d built up the big dinghy and had forgotten that it was a lot heavier and difficult to get on board. The dinghy almost wins the tussle, but I eventually manage to get it up with the winch and the halyard. I now face the next ordeal: the aft cabin’s where I dump stuff I don’t use often, which is why it’s, uhm, a bit of a mess. In its present state, there’s no way that I can fit the dinghy in there, however much I push and pull. It means I have to tidy it up, again! Is there no end to tidying up? While I’m busy, a journalist comes by. I answer a couple of questions but really have had enough of the media.
After the clean-up, I treat myself to some home-baked biscuits and then cook some rice with chicken and veggies. I still need to master the skill of boiling Vanuatuan rice, but fortunately I’m the only one who has to eat it.
I also decide to spend half a day cleaning Guppy underwater from keel to waterline. There’s a lot of marine growth there again, and if she’s clean she can go at least half a knot faster. Once the sun is high enough in the sky, I dive into the water armed with a putty-knife and snorkel. After three hours of diving and scraping off molluscs, I climb back on board exhausted. I’d done the same in Tonga, but in these tropical waters everything grows so fast. I’ve had a sore throat and a bit of a headache since yesterday, so I decide to take it easy after all the diving and spend the rest of the afternoon strumming my new guitar and reading.
In the morning I’m at Customs when they open, but I’m sent from pillar to post. Payment is done on the opposite side of the town and I then need to return to Customs and Immigration before fetching the duty-free form from another part of town.
Once I’ve got all the stamps and official papers, I walk back to Guppy and fetch the jerry cans for the duty-free diesel. At the filling station in town, I ask if I can use my credit card. That’s no problem, but after I’ve filled the jerry cans and try to pay with it, it doesn’t work and I have to find an ATM to draw money. Once I’ve paid for the diesel, they decide the jerry cans are too heavy for me and offer to deliver them. They manage to fit them all in the truck and drop me off next to Guppy. So nice of them!
I really want to be at sea again and feel the freedom; just Gup, nature and me. It’s a long crossing of about 2400 miles to Darwin, with the notorious Torres Strait on my route. It also means that I’ll be leaving the Pacific behind me, which really is another milestone.
Port Vila–Australia: 2400 nautical miles
DAY 1: 9 August
There’s very little wind and I’m trying to catch every breath with the sails, but we’re not doing more than 2.5 knots. The weather is beautiful and I’m able to read in between finding the best setting for the sails to push my sea slug forward. As a sailor, I’m in the business of trying to urge the slowest mode of transport to go as fast as possible. But the wind holds the trump card and wins the battle, which will probably mean a night of engine noise. The one advantage is that I can use the Port Vila–Australia: 2400 nautical miles electric autopilot, as there is enough power. The windvane doesn’t steer well in these light airs and I need to act often, but so long as the sails don’t flap I let Guppy bob along.
I completed all the paperwork for the new SailMail in Port Vila. It’s an email service for yachts that works via my new SSB radio, and I used it for the first time yesterday to send my blog to Dad. I still need to get used to being able to send an email while I’m out at sea, but it’s much easier than sending a text message. However, the blog doesn’t seem to have arrived . . . Hmm, that could be because I haven’t been registered yet, which means that I may still have to send everything as a text message via the satellite phone.
It’s wonderful to be out at sea again, and my brain slowly finds some peace. My thoughts are still jumbled, but this is a long crossing and there’s time enough to get them sorted out before I reach Darwin. It’s fun to read Nature’s signs and make forecasts. I’m often right, but Nature remains unpredictable.
I’ve just finished reading The Long Way and now take Tania Aebi’s book Maiden Voyage off the shelf for the umpteenth time. I know it back to front, but it’s so well written and I can relate to it so much. There are many differences, too. She writes so well; I don’t. My boat is much bigger than hers was and I have a GPS, radar and a working engine. She sailed solo around the world many years ago and has been home for some time. Home is a long way away for me and I’m not at all sure what the future holds. We’ll see.
The sun drops into the sea like a big ball of fire. The fire dies and it slowly gets dark. My Dutch flag is drooping and its days are numbered. I switch the plotter to its night mode, switch on the mast light and enjoy all the space around me. There’s still too little wind to sail, but we’re floating along nicely and the SailMail is working. I can finally email at sea and no longer need to send my blogs via a text message. What a luxury to be able to write my blogs on the PC!
DAY 2: 10 August
There’s a light breeze when I wake up, but it dies as the sun rises. It’s enough to drive me nuts! I’ve had hardly any wind since my departure. This means that I’m almost constantly battling with the sails, booming out the genoa, furling, unfurling either the spinnaker or the code zero . . . Putting a reef in the mainsail to prevent it from flapping too much, then taking it out again, dropping the sail, switching on the engine, then switching it off; with an average speed of no more than 2.5 knots.
If there’s no wind, and if she has to, Guppy can motor for almost a thousand miles. But sailing is much faster, and I hate the engine noise and need to cover more than two and a half times that distance . . . Oh well, there will be wind at some stage. Being becalmed does have its advantages; there’s almost no swell and I can spend the night lying in bed without having to brace myself between the sides of my bunk to stop myself from sliding around. I eventually decide to switch on the engine to limit the damage to the sails when they flap. Now that I don’t constantly have to keep myself busy with the sails, I can make music again — on my old, faithful guitar as well as on the new 12-string. I also read a lot and keep myself busy with all sorts of chores and repairs. Today I inspect the rudder, and this is how I discover that the bearing house of the steering wheel has broken . . . In the evening I watch several episodes of the TV series How I Met Your Mother on my laptop. At moments like these, I tend to forget that I’m in the middle of the sea. I haven’t seen a soul, besides a flying fish and two seagulls, and Guppy thanks them for the great job they did in shitting all over her!
I’ve been giving a lot of thought to my trip from Darwin. I now know for sure that I want to sail
around the Cape of Good Hope and end my voyage on Saint Martin. I could make some stops in the Indian and Atlantic Oceans, but a non-stop trip is also beginning to appeal to me a lot; even though some of the islands in between do seem worth visiting.
I’ve managed to make brief contact with Henk on Sogno d’Oro, which is sailing 340 miles ahead of me. He’s experiencing good winds and is sailing well. I’m sure I’ll have good winds soon, too. According to the weather forecast, this could be in a little more than 24 hours’ time. But we’re not quite there yet. Patience, Laura, patience!
DAY 3: 11 August
Time is passing fast. It’s 11 August already and I’ve had another visit from a bird that couldn’t help leaving the usual calling card. It has shat over the entire foredeck and the mainsail, and has now landed on the mizzen from where it is taking care of the whole aft deck. The sun canopy ensures that the cockpit — where I spend most of the day — is spared.
We finally have a little wind and Guppy is sailing at 3.5 knots again. I’ve thought up something to prevent the genoa sheet from chafing against the spinnaker boom. I wrap a piece of cloth around it and fix it to the worn spot with tape. Voilà! I need both hands to do this and am holding a piece of duct tape between my teeth. The tape attaches itself to my lip and I pull a little too hard to get it off. It wouldn’t have been too bad if a salty wave hadn’t washed over me at that very moment. Damn, that stings!
The speed drops slowly but surely to below 3 knots, and now there’s a whole flock of birds flying around Guppy. Messy beasts, kindly find another landing strip!
One Girl One Dream Page 24
