One Girl One Dream

by Dekker, Laura

  DAY 12: 23 December

  And Mother Nature does have something in store for us, of course . . . Dark clouds pile up this morning and then pelt us with rain. Very hard showers with irritating gusts of changeable wind. Looking at the course on the plotter makes me wonder if Mr Windpilot hasn’t had too much salt and has lost it altogether. Maybe he’s just up in the clouds over all the Christmas and New Year wishes that are coming in on the guest book on my site. I can’t imagine celebrating a better Christmas than this one, together with Guppy in the South Atlantic Ocean, knowing that there are so many people thinking of me. Even the dark clouds are disappearing. It’s been the darkest, most rainy morning since my departure from Cape Town, but the sun has come out and I’m enjoying a wonderful afternoon. I’m so glad it’s back, and I’m enjoying its warmth while everything dries.

  I’ve been at sea for almost two weeks and it’s Christmas the day after tomorrow. It’s lovely to be alone with Guppy like this. Although I wouldn’t mind having a quick look at Dad and Spot on his boat. We always used to play games around the Christmas tree with candles and a roaring fire. My dog still misses me, and I miss him too. Spot and I explored all the rivers and lakes together when I was younger. He was my faithful shipmate and guardian angel. Spot accompanied me for weeks on my holidays and took his guard duties very seriously. And, talking about Christmas, there are just two presents left in the Christmas parcel I received in Cape Town. I was allowed to open one a day in the run-up to Christmas. Time is slipping away again. It doesn’t matter whether I’m at sea for two, four or seven weeks. I pass St Helena at a distance of 70 miles, and could have celebrated Christmas and New Year there, of course, but I’m enjoying the peace and prefer to celebrate in my own way. So the first stop will be Saint Martin!

  I think back to the last two Christmases and New Year’s Eves. Both were spent on Saint Martin, and now I’m on my way to the same island, but with 27,000 miles more under the keel. Unintentionally I seem to return to this small, friendly island in the Caribbean at the same time each year. Two years ago, during Christmas in 2009, I’d just returned from Saint Martin after being arrested by the Dutch Military Police. I’d been sitting on the beach there, looking at the sea and asking myself if I was ever going to fulfil my dream. A year later, I was sitting on the same beach, this time dreaming about all the wonderful adventures that were in store for Guppy and me. I was looking forward to all the miles and lovely countries that we were going to conquer. And now? Now, I’m going back to gaze out to sea and be able to say: ‘Gup, we did it!’

  DAY 13: 24 December

  It’s nice and sunny this morning, and I think that it might stay that way for a change. I shouldn’t have mentioned the good weather, because a little later Guppy is suddenly surrounded by curtains of rain and dark clouds again. I gaze at the sky for hours. There are dark, threatening clouds, bits of blue sky, white clouds, grey clouds . . . and they are all mixed up. There’s an arc of clouds that ends in the water. It’s such a stunning sight. In the meantime, the waves are getting more and more irritating. The wind has changed, and now there are cross-seas that are causing Guppy to make some amazing moves. The one moment it’s calm and I forget to pay attention, and the next — whoosh — Guppy does a mega-swing on a steep wave, causing a saucepan to make an assassination attempt on me and a packet of rice to drop to the floor and split open. Nice! At least I know what I’ll be doing for the rest of the day. Why are these grains of rice so small, and how do they manage to spread themselves everywhere?

  At dusk there’s a beautiful sunset with so many colours and bright shafts of light shooting through the clouds and glistening on the sea that it looks just like a tunnel of light. I’ve never seen so many colours on land. Slowly the light fades until only the coloured lights on my little Christmas tree can be seen inside the cabin.

  DAY 14: 25 December

  There’s a good wind of about 20 knots that’s carrying Guppy towards the northerly horizon at a speed of 6.5 knots. As a Christmas gift, the sun has shown its face all morning, although it’s beginning to get a little overcast again. It’s a treat to have a day without heavy clouds and rain. I’m not as enthusiastic about the waves. They’re not much higher than 3 metres, but they are annoyingly steep cross-waves. A five-course Christmas menu may be a little too ambitious, and I’m afraid that it may have to end up being something very simple in these seas. Not that this is a problem. It’s actually quite nice having such a simple Christmas. No obligatory family visits that I have to make, and all that lovely food that you have to eat even when you are full, and all the endless chatter . . . Guppy is a great listener and never contradicts me; I can eat when and what I want, and I don’t have to go anywhere. The little Christmas tree, the Father Christmas hat, the jolly snowman swinging on the SSB radio and Christmas streamers have put me into a real Christmas spirit!

  DAY 15: 26 December

  I’ve just crawled back into my bunk and fallen asleep when I hear a strange noise. There is something in the cabin that is making quite a racket. I switch on the light and narrowly miss stepping on a huge flying fish that had launched itself at Guppy a few seconds earlier. It has landed right on top of the dustbin, coming to a stop next to my bunk. It’s trying to fly away but not really succeeding. Throwing back dead flying fish is bad enough, and picking up a live one can only be worse, but this smelly beast has to go back to the sea. I’m cursing it roundly, because it’s unbelievably slippery and keeps jumping out of my hands. The whole cabin is covered in scales before I eventually get it back into the water. I hope this slimy adventurer tells the rest of its scaly friends all about its really bad experience, so there won’t be any more stupid visitors flying into my cabin. It happens to be the first flying fish that I’ve seen since the start of the Indian Ocean. A sign that the water is warming up. Yay!

  DAY 16: 27 December

  Guppy is sailing effortlessly on a broad reach under full sail with the genoa boomed-out on the high side. It’s growing warmer fast now, and I’m having to get used to it again, but that’s also really nice. In contrast to the rough seas over Christmas, these have now toned down and are friendlier. I feel like making something nice this morning, and have decided to bake some biscuits. An hour later, the cabin is filled with the aroma of freshly baked biscuits. I spend the rest of the day reading in the sun and sampling them. Guppy has been sailing well over the past few days and we have covered almost 2000 miles.

  After watching two episodes of How I Met Your Mother, I close the laptop, switch on the light and crawl out of the covers for a last inspection before taking an hour-long nap while the radar keeps watch. I see the moon through the porthole for the first time since leaving Cape Town. It’s just a sliver, but what’s really exciting is that it means that it’s no longer cloudy. There’s a beautiful starry sky above Guppy. What a pleasure to be able to see the stars and moon again! I haven’t a clue about the names of these stars or their position in the universe, but I do know that they’ve left a lasting impression on me. As always, I crane my neck to look at the sky until my neck aches and I’m cold. Guppy is nicely on course and sailing at a speed of 6 knots.

  I’m happy; it’s been a lovely, sunny peaceful day. I’m thinking about the book I read this afternoon, Maya’s Notebook, which my gran sent to me while I was in Cape Town. The more I read, the more the story touches me. It concerns a 16-year-old girl who is an alcoholic and a drug addict and has run away after rehab. She’s been a drug dealer herself, and is on the run in Chile from people in her past. It really touches me, even though it’s fiction. I know very well that it’s not based on fairytales. Life can be so unfair. Why are some people strong and others weak? Why was I able to fight so hard against the Dutch state to be able to sail, while others don’t pursue their dreams and most just carry on dreaming endlessly? I managed to escape the Netherlands and am now fulfilling my dream in freedom. It makes me hate the injustice in this world even more, where a few bad people manage to spoil life for so many others.


  DAY 17: 28 December

  I’m still accompanied by the trade winds and Guppy is in her element. I’m baking pancakes at daybreak, and install myself in the cockpit while enjoying my treat. I finish reading the book I started yesterday, and then it’s time for some maintenance on Guppy. The windvane steering lines have worn and need to be replaced. The blocks, shackles and winches need to be checked, replaced and greased. I then dive into the aft compartment and check the steering cables, where the bearings and discs urgently need some grease. Everything else looks fine. Satisfied, I put all my tools away at sunset, knowing that Gup is geared for action.

  It’s slowly growing cooler and the clouds are becoming greyer and bigger. There are some strange changes of wind direction towards nightfall. Sailing with the windvane, Guppy is sometimes 60 degrees off-course, but that doesn’t matter. She is going well and I let her run with the wind. After a while, the wind returns to the former direction and Guppy is back on the right course. I come into contact with Winddancer via the SSB, a boat from New Zealand that I met in Port Elizabeth and that sailed from Cape Town a week after me. She is sailing 915 miles behind me. The days seem to be slipping by much faster, and I’m enjoying everything even more. It’s wonderful to be in the trade winds, watching Guppy surge forward and having the prospect of sea and peace for some time yet to come.

  DAY 18: 29 December

  The curtains of rain that have been with me all night disappear in the morning, and the sun comes to say ‘good morning’. Now that the water is a bit warmer, it’s a pleasure to take a proper shower from the water in my bucket. It gets rather hot in the afternoon, and it’s good to be able to cool down this way. The flying fish are now rare, so the message must have got through to them . . . Although I do find scales on deck and a totally dehydrated squid in amongst some ropes. It really stinks and the deck will require some scrubbing. The waves have calmed, become longer, and Guppy is chasing through them at more than 6 knots, bringing us ever closer to the end of our world voyage; something I’m not sure I’m looking forward to that much . . .

  DAY 19: 30 December

  Irritating squalls keep me busy all morning, and this time don’t bring much wind but lots of rain and changeable winds. In the end, the wavy course-line on my plotter looks very interesting. Guppy is steered by the windvane and her course follows the wind in this way . . . Eventually the dark clouds disappear and it becomes extremely hot. In the afternoon, the sun is right overhead and burns without mercy. Guppy is almost running with the wind, which means that I can hardly feel any breeze and it’s slowly getting too hot, so I spend the greater part of the day sitting calmly in the shade as I get hotter with each move I make. I write a bit for my book and listen to music while Guppy sways gently towards the horizon without me having to adjust a thing. There are just 3200 miles left of the 6000-mile crossing to the finish in Saint Martin, but we still have the doldrums and the Equator ahead of us, and Gup is approaching them fast.

  DAY 20: 31 December

  At midnight the wind dies, causing Guppy to roll enormously. A big cargo ship passes me and by morning I’ve only managed to have three hours’ sleep . . . At daybreak, the wind is a little friendlier towards Guppy and me. By contrast, the confused cross-seas need to be taught some manners! Fortunately, Gup is now sailing well again and I can catch up on some sleep, because today I don’t want to fall asleep before midnight. Except, uh . . . When exactly is it 24.00 hours here? It’s probably not a good idea to shoot off a flare, but I am going to amuse myself with the many coloured glow-sticks that I have on board. Let 2012 be a wonderful year!

  DAY 21: 1 January 2012!

  I celebrate the turning of the new year with music, glow-sticks, the moon and the stars. The glow-sticks are a good substitute for fireworks and shine for hours. The sky is clear and there’s no light pollution at sea, so the starlit sky is breathtakingly beautiful. I’ve decided to celebrate the start of the year in my present time-zone, which is two hours later than it is in the Netherlands. I spend the first few hours of 2012 enjoying sitting in the cockpit and thinking about what this year will bring for Guppy and me. The wind starts to drop and Guppy starts rolling heavily. There’s more wind towards the morning, and I finally manage to fall asleep. So I spend the greater part of New Year’s Day sleeping, just like most teenagers . . . The only difference being that I’m lying in the cockpit listening to the rush of Guppy’s bow wave and dreaming the day away. I wake up in the afternoon, totally refreshed. The worst heat of the day has passed, and I suddenly feel like giving Guppy a good spring clean so that we make an orderly and fresh start to the New Year.

  DAY 22: 2 January

  Guppy smells fresh and is squeaky-clean after I polished everything until late in the evening. The wind and waves are getting stronger again, which immediately makes life on board less comfortable. But the beautiful weather and the 7 knots showing on the log make up for it all. It’s getting hotter by the day, and I keep cool by throwing buckets of water over myself. The flying fish have shrunk a lot in size. I’m only getting tiny fish on board now, but there are lots of them. These dry up quickly and are easy to throw back into the sea. Guppy is sailing extremely well and there is little to attend to. The waves can be really irritating sometimes, causing Guppy to do a tremendous sideswipe. An ocean without waves just doesn’t exist, so I’ll have to learn to live with it.

  DAY 23: 3 January

  There’s a good 15-knot wind and we are on a broad reach, and now that we are approaching the doldrums I’m happy with that. During the day, Guppy is increasingly beginning to resemble an oven. I now sleep during the day and am awake at night, which is a pleasant change with the beautiful moonlit sea and countless stars to look at. The fine winds ensure that Guppy and I are making good progress, and we’re more than halfway. Let’s hope it continues this way; as the doldrums are often calm for weeks, I’m taking advantage of every breath of wind.

  At midnight I’m woken by a strange chirping sound . . . What’s catching? Is something broken? When I go out and inspect with my searchlight, I find that the sound comes from the beaks of two pitch-black birds that are perching on the solar panels. They give me a cheeky look with their glistening eyes and carry on singing.

  DAY 24: 4 January

  Although the chirping is not off-key, I’ve had enough by daybreak. When I get close to them, they just chirp louder and won’t be chased away. They have, of course, shat all over my solar panels. I’m beginning to wonder what attracts these birds to Guppy . . .

  We are running downwind and, as expected in the doldrums, the wind is beginning to weaken. There’s just enough to let Guppy sail at a little over 4 knots without the sails flapping. The number of miles to Saint Martin has shrunk to 2600. While I’m still trying to figure out why birds are so attracted to Guppy, it cools down slowly and the clouds around me grow darker. A little too dark for my taste, but I’ll have to see what it brings.

  DAY 25: 5 January

  The threatening clouds only bring rain overnight and stay where they are without bothering Guppy. The wind is weakening very slowly, but the calm sea ensures that the sails remain full and Guppy swings on gently. I do my inspection round, and have just got back into bed when I hear Splat, flap, flap! next to me. I recognise that floundering sound immediately. A fish has flown into the cabin again and landed in my bed! Flapping around madly, it bounces around on the floor and I’m able to catch it fairly easily and throw it back into the sea, more or less alive. The black birds are back again with their duet, and keep me company all night. Hmm . . .

  I’ve reached the ITC-zone, better known as the doldrums, but I still have a lovely wind and Guppy is going at a good 5 knots, which I’m very satisfied with in this part of the world. It doesn’t improve the temperature, though.

  It’s only 2200 miles to Saint Martin; the distance is shrinking and getting fearfully close. The end of my dream; the fulfilment of a dream and the start of new adventures and new dreams. I often look back at the
voyage and all the things I’ve experienced. Just before the voyage, I got to know a dark side to this world. During my voyage I got to know Guppy. At the beginning I would do what suited her best, and I now feel every change in her; I hear every sound and can walk over her deck with my eyes closed. But I have, especially, got to know myself. From how to make a mess, running out of food and clean clothes, to finding out what I want to do with my life and who I am. By discovering the rest of the world, new countries, new people, habits and lifestyles, I’ve discovered that the Netherlands is certainly not the place for me. After 25,000 miles of sailing solo now, I still haven’t had enough of the sea and long for more adventures. A career in the sailing world would certainly suit me, and that’s why it would be best for me to go to New Zealand or Australia. This is why my dream to sail to New Zealand is now beginning to make much more sense. The more I think about it, the more concrete and definite my plans become. Slowly my thoughts turn to the Panama Canal and the Pacific, with New Zealand as my goal. I work on finding out about New Zealand, bit by bit, and store everything I hear and read about that country in my mind.