One Girl One Dream

by Dekker, Laura

  Speaking from Salvador de Bahia, Dutch solo sailor Lucas Schröder says he has withdrawn as a candidate from the Conny van Rietschoten Trophy 2011 selection. The sailor does not want his performance (the 10th place in the Mini Transat 2011) to be compared to that of the 16-year-old solo sailor, Laura Dekker, who is sailing around the world and who, according to Schröder, is still ‘controversial’. The whole text reads:

  ‘On my arrival in Brazil last Tuesday, I heard that I had been nominated for the Conny van Rietschoten Trophy. Of course I am very honoured to be nominated and learnt about my fellow candidates with due respect. I was, however, surprised that Laura Dekker had also been nominated in my category. As you well know, her project is rather controversial. By putting me on the same platform, my own sailing projects and performances will, inadvertently, be associated and compared to those of Laura. It is also unavoidable that Laura’s nomination for the most prestigious sailing trophy in the Netherlands will be viewed as a stand on the matter by the sailing world. This makes it so awkward for me that I request you to no longer consider me as a candidate for your trophy.’

  The Conny van Rietschoten Trophy is presented to ‘a Dutch sailor who has distinguished him- or herself by an outstanding competitive performance or someone who has made a valuable contribution to the sport of sailing’. Despite his statement, the exact reason for Schröder not wanting to compete with Laura Dekker when it comes to this prize is not entirely clear. Is it purely because she is said to be ‘controversial’? Laura’s solo voyage is no longer that controversial, and now that she is over the halfway mark of her expedition, her name is increasingly mentioned alongside those of other top sailors — especially abroad. You might query whether the fame that she won at an extremely young age with her love for sailing could be expressed as ‘a valuable contribution to the sport of sailing’, in the light of her personal circumstances. But that would lead to an academic debate and there is no denying that Laura Dekker’s solo voyage around the world at an extremely young age has drawn more attention to her sport in the regular media than that of all the performances by other Dutch sailors put together. However much the more regular competition sailors may regret this, it all has to do with the structure and nature of this sport.

  Hey Muis,

  You can’t have any idea about what’s happening here . . . We have been receiving piles of threatening registered letters from the authorities again. Fines that will be exacted if you don’t appear at school immediately, etc. They still want to try to stop you; by whatever means possible . . . It seems that they are not happy that their game with the documents in Portugal wasn’t successful and that other countries have not wanted to cooperate with them up till now, as you know . . . The authorities have got Lucas Schröder on their side to achieve this, as you can read above! . . . It looks as if the state does not want to allow you to finish and certainly not achieve any success. We didn’t want to tell you any of this, but the situation is getting more and more serious now that the Dutch authorities think you may complete your voyage. You have been worried about the threat of sabotage to Guppy by people working for the Dutch security services all along your voyage. All of us, including our lawyer Peter de Lange, suspect that this threat now needs to be taken seriously more than ever. It’s our opinion that you and Guppy will have to be protected 24 hours a day in Africa. For this reason, I will be coming to South Africa together with the people from the security company that supported you in the Netherlands. We really are sorry about all this, but fortunately Peter de Lange will help us through to the end. He will be making as much as possible public through the media so that it makes it more difficult for them to continue their games. That’s how we finally won last time. We will make it all public, including the fact that the state is still trying to stop you through legal means, etc. Granddad and Granny will help where they can, and Peter de Lange will be giving these matters his attention for the whole day tomorrow.

  Sorry my dear, I love you so much. You really don’t deserve this.

  XX Love from a very sad Dad

  I knew that despite the efforts of my small support group — comprising Dad, Granddad, Gran and Peter de Lange — to keep these matters to themselves, there had been big problems for months. We were aware that all our computers were being hacked again and again, and that our telephones were being tapped. When we discovered this at the time and reported it to Child Protection, they simply informed us that these were standard supervision procedures! I had picked up the fact that they were taking legal steps with the schooling from media reports. And the dirty old tactic by the authorities of using the media to set the nation against me had again been going on for months. After I left the Netherlands, more than a year ago, I thought I had rid myself of this nasty game. Hadn’t I won my court cases? Case closed.

  At the time, in 2009, the Dutch authorities had also made the Guinness Book of Records liable for any possible consequences of record attempts by minors, which resulted in the Guinness scrapping these records. All this in the hope that I would give up. But that didn’t bother me that much. I had been busy with the preparations for a very long time before I realised that I might also break a record. Surely you don’t undertake a voyage like this to feature in a book? My life has been disrupted since the age of 13 when I was unwillingly cast into the public eye by the Child Protection Board. The one moment I was enjoying a fantastic childhood, and the next I was in the midst of a bureaucracy nightmare. With one goal; to destroy me and shut me up. I was thrown into the deep end without any time to get used to having to stand on my own two feet; and after almost drowning, I learnt how to swim . . . I learnt that adults, especially state officials, were not to be trusted. They have a wicked amount of power! When people think there is a way of making money out of you, then you’ve really had it. Every time I had the opportunity to earn something from my voyage, it disappeared before my eyes. This was done by people who’d been in the game for some time and they left me with debts and even greater problems. It all happened so quickly and I, just like Dad, didn’t understand what was really happening. Managers who knocked on our door were only in it for the money. I was the target for paedophiles who posed as sponsors. And all this thanks to what the authorities said about me in the media. Who can I trust? I’ve been pursued and followed by the Dutch authorities and the AIVD (Dutch Secret Service) for two and a half years now . . .

  Why? Simply because I threatened to slip through the fingers of the Dutch authorities? Why can’t I just sail around the world like hundreds of other people? There is no law that prohibits it. Why do I need to fail? It’s clear that the state’s Child Protection and Child Welfare organisations have lost face, but why do they have to win this battle? So that they can say: ‘I told you so; all we wanted to do was to protect her, but she didn’t want to listen.’ Is it SO important to show the Dutch youth that this is not tolerated? Is it SO important for Dutch schools to brainwash the young into not having any ideas of their own? At school you’re taught that the Netherlands is a democracy, but in reality it appears to be a totalitarian state. I’ve got a headache from brooding over it all and trying to find solutions. Will there be more court cases? Do we have to start all over again? My lawyer Peter de Lange is doing his best, but will that be enough?

  I’m not going back to the Netherlands, anyway. I’m ashamed of the country where I grew up and I made my mind up a while ago to continue sailing to New Zealand. Fortunately I was born there, but I am concerned about Dad who now has to deal with fines and all sorts of other things. While I’m no longer a resident of the Netherlands, Dad still has guardianship of me until the age of 18, and he still lives in the Netherlands.

  The risk of sabotage has been on my mind from the start of my voyage and I would prefer to sail on non-stop to Saint Martin. I’m safe at sea and no one can harm me there. At sea, all I have to fight against is nature, an honest battle in which I know all the ups and downs; but on land there are people . . . People who can deceive me and people
who can sabotage Guppy. I don’t want to believe it, but the evidence is everywhere. I want to think that it’s all a bad dream; that it’s not really happening . . . I’m feeling helpless and disheartened. I don’t know what’s going to happen now, but I do know that I want to continue as quickly as possible. That I would rather be at sea until the bureaucratic storm has blown over, so that I can live safely without being constantly in fear of the country where I grew up.

  DAY 45: 9 November

  Guppy and I are being tossed around fairly vigorously tonight by a beam wind of 25 knots. Good sailing, but the strange confused seaway is very irritating. I get little sleep, which means that I’m not very cheerful this morning. After brooding over the fact that I’m now approaching land fast, whether or not I’m happy about it, I decide to go up to the cockpit to get some fresh air. What a wonderful— WHAM! Splash, drip, drip . . . ARGH, grumph, hrumph, bloody wave! I swear at the sea, the waves, the wind and everything I hate at the moment, but it makes me feel a lot better. Staying moody doesn’t improve the situation anyway.

  Guppy is going like a spear under full sail at a speed of 7.5 knots. At this speed, the coast is approaching very fast, but with 300 miles to go I really don’t feel like going ashore. I could sail on for weeks; I’d prefer to just carry on and skip all the harbours. And I would do if I didn’t need to stock up on diesel, water and food. The days just slip by and I’ve got used to the constant movement, the interrupted sleep; and — even though Mother Nature hasn’t made it easy for me — I have never felt more in tune with my surroundings. Wonderful peace with only the waves, the wind, Guppy and the horizon. No people who all want something from you; no bustle, cars, internet, media, etc.

  DAY 46: 10 November

  I’m almost there! It’s really only a short distance now and each hour seems to get longer . . . Of the 6000 miles that I had to cover from Darwin, there are now a mere 100 to go. The wind is using the opportunity to show me who’s the boss one more time, and has been variable all night with speeds from 0 to 25 knots. When day breaks there’s a constant wind, but it’s head-on! Land is so close, yet so far away . . . Guppy doesn’t worry about that and is sailing easily, close to the wind in dark, dismal weather, without making a fuss about the grim skies and the headwind. Slowly but surely it’s dawning on me that I could be in South Africa tomorrow, and I’m suddenly looking forward to a night of uninterrupted sleep in a bed that’s not rolling and isn’t wet and salty, and even a nice shower and fresh meat, fish and vegetables. I actually rarely eat fish, but after seven weeks at sea I’ll eat anything that doesn’t consist of spaghetti, rice or tinned beans! On the other hand, I really want to stay at sea . . .

  When you have a thousand miles to go, it doesn’t really matter where and how fast you sail, but now I’m constantly checking the course and speed, and the calculations for Guppy’s arrival time are flying through my head. The shipping traffic is increasing, and there are more and more symbols, lines and numbers on my chart. The wind is not doing what the weather charts had promised and we are going far slower than I’d expected, which really irritates me for the first time in a long while.

  DAY 47: 11 November

  During my last night on this crossing, there are many ships around me. The wind has shifted and is coming from the south at a speed of 25 knots. The closer Guppy comes to the strong northerly Agulhas Current, the steeper and higher the waves are becoming. Halfway through the night, I’m able to receive the first African radio stations and see a lot of lights along the shore until there is a thick fog that takes away all visibility. It’s cold as one squall follows the next and rain washes over Guppy. The radar faithfully reflects the shipping traffic, but I can’t see it. And so I lumber on while adjusting the sails and the course. At a distance of 10 miles, I’m still unable to see Durban except on the radar . . . and still nothing at 5 miles from shore. Suddenly the fog thins out, and at a distance of 3 miles I think I see something! A sigh, a laugh and a celebratory dance; but it doesn’t really sink in, no, not really. I’ve been at sea for too long. Often I’m overjoyed to get to my destination and can be cheerful for days. This time I’m glad, but nothing more than that, because the feeling of peace and being at one with nature has now come to an end.

  The skyscrapers appear out of the mist one by one, and an industrial harbour comes into sight. Another mile to the harbour entrance. I call Port Control and they notify me that a big cargo ship is just exiting. I decide to wait to let this giant glide past me first. I then guide Guppy between the breakwaters and get into calmer waters, and look for the yacht marina which lies just a few miles further beyond the big harbours.

  Durban

  After being on the Indian Ocean for 47 days, Guppy and I have arrived in Durban. I have to concentrate hard to be able to walk to the harbour office and not fall in the water. The land is moving — everything is moving! I fly back to Guppy; my familiar surroundings. After a while I try again, holding on to the railing as if I’m walking for the first time. It’s unbelievable how I’ve managed to lose my sense of balance. After my third trip up and down the jetty — because I manage to forget my boat’s papers, of course — it’s going better. Clearing in is easy. The Customs official nearly faints when I tell him that I’ve just sailed from Darwin on my own. He doesn’t believe me and I have to show him my website before he stamps my documents, shaking his head and muttering all the while. At the yacht club, I take a lovely warm shower and then buy some fresh food for tonight. I’m gripped by a big spring-cleaning mood in the afternoon; wash all the salt off Guppy and clean everything. Guppy smells wonderfully fresh again, and I’m slowly getting used to being on land. It’s incredibly busy, and how people can talk! It’s all a huge adjustment.

  The harbour has a very strict 24-hour security watch, but I would prefer to be out at sea again. When I wake in the morning, the wind is howling through the rigging and the wind gauge in the harbour shows a wind speed of 35 knots, which means I can’t think of leaving at the moment. In contrast to being at sea, there is so much happening every hour that it’s hard to keep up. At sea the highlights were eating, sleeping, a big wave, or spotting a funny cloud or a ship. I was happy and content with these small things, and they made my day. Day after day . . . But it’s all different now. Eating and sleeping are side issues now. A wave? A strange cloud? Get a life, girl! Who gets a kick out of a funny cloud? No, here I’m running from pillar to post and post to pillar, and everyone is throwing questions at me. Fortunately Guppy is always there and I’m able to find refuge from the madness. Or am I already crazy?

  Only now do I realise how this crossing has changed me. My view of the world has changed. I’m no longer in a hurry; life carries on no matter where you are. I’ve learnt to be content with the small things and not to need more and more. You can spend your whole life looking for the ultimate happiness; work yourself to death and become unhappy. Or you can work your whole life and then want to travel, but by then be too old and your body no longer works as it should; or you have kids, a house, a car and a job, and you have to say ‘Sorry, but we can’t do that.’ Why not? I’ve come across people with children who have left their so-called security far behind and are now sailing around and feeling much happier. It’s also a lot cheaper living this way. I’ve got to know myself and have discovered that I’m a totally different person to the one I would have become under the Dutch legal system. I know what I want, have goals and desires, but, more importantly, am glad and very happy about what I’ve achieved.

  Guppy is pulling hard at her mooring lines when I wake up, while the wind that continues to shriek through the rigging is blowing even harder than yesterday. I speak to my New Zealand neighbour a little later while I’m busy putting out more fenders and lines, and am spontaneously invited to join them in the mountains for a few days. They are sailing around the world in a 40-foot steel boat, Iemanja, with their 10- and 8-year-old children, and are on their way to Germany. It takes me 15 minutes to grab my gear, lock up Guppy and let s
ecurity know that they need to keep a sharp eye on Guppy. I’m ready to swap the sea air for the mountain air.

  A little later, I’m sitting between the two kids in the back of the car they’ve rented. We quickly leave the busy city behind us. The hills become mountains, and the air gets colder. After a few hours’ drive, we get to a nice camping resort close to the Drakensberg where they have rabbits, horses, chickens, geese and dogs running around. In short, an enormous menagerie, and the two kids keep me busy, too. It’s funny to notice that they are real boat children: they use the water sparingly when doing the dishes and are frugal with everything they use even when it’s no longer necessary.

  We go on a horseback tour and enjoy everything around us. After a few days of relaxing and hiking, we are on our way back. It was lovely being in the mountains for a while, but I’m relieved when I see the ocean appearing in the distance beyond the hills. I wouldn’t like to live far from the sea, but I also think mountains are beautiful . . . Maybe I should live on top of a mountain with a view of the sea — or at sea with a view of the mountains!

  Back on Guppy everything seems OK, and now that I’ve had my mountain adventure I immediately look at the weather charts. There’s a favourable wind forecast for the next two days, and that’s something rare here that you need to take advantage of. Although it’s late, the fuel dock is still open and I decide to top up with diesel so I can make a swift departure. I’m so happy with the good wind direction that I want to leave immediately, and am about to make a start when I decide that it might be wise to have a good night’s rest first. Sleeping and sailing along the coast just don’t go together . . .

  I was still ambling through the mountains on horseback this morning, so it might be asking a little too much to be at sea the same night.