I was finally overwhelmed by the wait for the sailboat to take off in the Lanzarote marina. I honestly quarreled with the head of the international marina, who doesn’t know a bit of English, so Tanja from Amsterdam, who lives on this island and speaks as many as six languages, helped her with the translation, while her boss only speaks Spanish. The conversation took place so that I was standing in the middle, with the marina chief on my left and Tanja on my right. The conversation escalated to the point where I was finally overwhelmed and I told Tanja to literally translate that he was a total incompetent and whatnot … Tanja started translating, then stopped and asked me if she should translate that as well. “Sure!” I nodded at her and watched his face change drastically. Indignant, he began to explain that he had never experienced anything like this, and I calmly replied that I had not yet. I have been waiting in the marina for two months for a boat lift and a mast lift !? His employee, the shipyard manager, was supposed to give me a date, but he probably didn’t and couldn’t, as he sat around the marina cafes all the time, sipping coffee. His name was Christian and he was even younger than me. I later learned that just about everyone on this island comes to such official positions only through ties. Kristjan got this job because his father, a dentist, treated the teeth of the marina owner and his entire family. Tanja approached me the next day and told me that she deeply enjoyed translating, as no one had ever said anything like that to a marina owner, although she deserved exactly that. She gave me the contact of the Rubicon marina on the other side of the island, where her friend Elsa works, also at home from the Netherlands.
I took the bus to Marina Rubicon, where I got an appointment in 20 minutes for the mast lift and the boat lift. The mast had to be raised because a new mast was set up wrong in Gerona, and I wanted to arrange it on this side of the Atlantic, where the prices are still somehow acceptable. After three days, I left the Lanzarote marina and moved to Rubicon. Overnight, I tidied up all the sails and all the ropes on the pier, removed the boom, unscrewed all the suffixes and winding systems. In the morning, I just moved to the pier, where an elevator will be waiting for me. I put everything together in the boat and I only had enough space left to lie down and rest, and make morning coffee in the kitchen. All the remaining space on the boat was completely filled. At 8 o’clock the elevator was supposed to be on the pier and at 9 o’clock the boat could already be lifted out of the water to dry land without a mast. The elevator was out of nowhere and in the end I fell asleep all tired right on the bench in front of the office. The lift arrived at 2.30pm and the boat was finally dry on four in the afternoon. Then the work began. The thought of a pile of work gave me a headache. I was alone and the day was only 24 hours long. All the tools I needed were lent to me by the friendly owner of the Avgusto shipyard, who also provided me with all the spare parts. I even replaced the axle and cuff, centered the engine, repaired the brackets that had been broken since Malaga, and tightened the bolts on the keel as it was completely swayed. So little material was built into the boat that when we placed it on a stand, it all bent together. They had never seen anything like it before, and I explained to them how stingy the Slovenes were, saying: look, they made a sailboat out of barely any material. Just enough so that water doesn’t get over the mold.
After fourteen days of hard work and feeding with antifouling powder, we put the boat back in the water. Everything was tip top: checked keel, rudder, all valves, etc. The stern of the boat was also reinforced by the pounding of the waves at the anchorages. Augusto did me a favor and checked my vital parts of the boat for free with some X-ray: he checked the keel to see if the bolts were firmly anchored, and he also checked the control sheet. Everything was arranged, we just put the mast. The only company that had an elevator on this island did not answer the phone for 14 days. I waited at the anchorage without a mast, losing my temper and joy. I was already running out of money, which I allocated for spending a maximum of 10 euros a day. Another 150 days with this way of life, which is already something normal for me after two years. And yet: the uncertainty and waiting for the elevator overwhelmed me. I stopped at a deadlock. I did some small chores on the pier and since we got along well in the marina, I helped them dismantle and set up the masts and welded the various stainless steel parts in their workshop. The shipyard became my home and although I didn’t have a boat moored at the pier but at the anchorage, I got the keys to a small workshop where I could work until 10pm and I also had a toilet and shower available. When we just set up the mast, I was overjoyed like never before and I was full of work again. All the ropes and attachments had to be installed while I waited for the spare part for the front winding system. The wait dragged on again, so I gave up and made the part myself. As a gift I got from August an antenna for AIS andall wiring and installation, and at half price also AIS.
The next morning my friends Maria and Andrea visited me and together we sailed back to the Lanzarote marina where my friend Lolo was celebrating his birthday. From there, I planned to set sail for Cape Verde the next day. But the next day I woke up all sweaty, with a high fever and incapable of anything, let alone continuing the journey. Maria took care of me for four days and if I ever say “Maria, help”, now I know it’s quite possible.
Once I had just said goodbye and everything was ready, it was time to leave. With a heavy heart I set out for my boat. Quite a few friends gathered in front of the boat and came to wish me a happy journey. At the top of the concrete pier, however, stood Maria, who only added, “Nice to meet you!” That was the same sentence I said to her when we met.
The rope fell on the pier, the boat left its place in the marina and soon everything was left behind me, even the pink Maria sweater became just another dot on the shore. At that moment, I decided that I would never, ever in my life, stop on one island or city for so long. “This is the second time !!!” I said to myself, before Torrive, where I was accepted as I am and I felt great, and now on this island, where I met so many good and kind people.
I set sail on December 2 at 4 p.m. The weather forecast was acceptable: wind constantly between 6 and 9. I felt great. I had enough water and food on the boat all the way to S America and I kept wondering if I would even stop at Cape Verde. Anyway, I had to sail towards them and set the course right on Mindela. As long as I’m not 100 nm ahead of the archipelago, I can decide which direction to sail. Until then, it’s just me and the ocean.
The boat was gliding on the waves like never before. In the last month, I’ve removed all sorts of things from the boat that I never needed and that I also didn’t want to carry with me anymore. So I left everything to my neighbor Marta, who was preparing her boat and working hard because she didn’t have much money: old life raft, 40 m chain, oven, ropes, fenders, some old sails, full of kitchen utensils, because he I didn’t need more than one glass, one fork, one spoon, one knife, and two cooking utensils. The boat was lighter than ever and I finally managed to do an average of 7 knots per 24 hours without the slightest effort.
In the morning I was already past Fuerteventura and from here there is nothing left all the way to the Cape Verde Islands. The wind finally stopped changing direction. Now only straight 700 nm! Every morning I raised the sails as much as I could, during the night I sailed more calmly with the mainsail, usually another shortening, to regulate the genoa more easily and, above all, faster. Every morning I was chased by rain clouds that really soaked me, so I dried my clothes on deck during the day. I was getting closer and closer to the equator and the sun was rising and setting faster. I was constantly accompanied by dolphins and every now and then I heard a whale near the boat waking up the water. Usually this happened towards evening or in the middle of the night to wake me up while I slept in the cockpit. Clear nights full of stars adorning the sky – I felt like there was nothing else in the world, just me traveling to the end of the world, the sea, the stars, dolphins and this whale.
Every day I write down the miles traveled, every 4 hours I write down the position of the boat and the direction of the wind, I check the weather forecast and calculate how much it would take to get to shore in any case. I calculate the direction of the current and the direction of the waves. I had already sailed past the cape where Western Sahara ends, but all this was more than 200 nm away. The wind rose to 9 and already at 5 o’clock in the afternoon the sails were shortened to all shortenings. I sat in the cockpit, contemplating the stormy jib and constantly observing the wind speed and the speed of the boat. Whales and dolphins came to greet me again. It was time for a late lunch and I prepared my specialty – tuna and no longer so soft bread. I check on AIS, nothing around me. I also check the position of the boat. I notice that the current relies on me to the west, so I set the course 10 degrees further to the east, as I don’t want to miss the archipelago because of the current, because in the meantime I just decided to stop at Cape Verdih.
I am in contact with my mother and sister, who has a birthday today as it is December 7th. And he sends me a message via Garmin: “We were together for my birthday last year, I miss you and I want it to be the same this year.”
“Don’t worry sister, but we’ll be together again next year, now I’m here on a boat, I’m sailing across the Atlantic and I’m happy and so be you, because it’s your birthday, I’ll let you know something else, celebrate nicely.”
While I was lying in bed and trying to rest a bit, I heard a loud bang, which at that moment did not seem suspicious to me, as the boat was constantly cracking and creaking.
“What do I know, it’s usually the door or the floor …,” I think, turning around, burying my head in my pillow, and taking a nap back. I wake up about an hour later and it’s time to write down the position, check the speed in wind, and I walk across the deck. The wind has still not stabilized, its strength is still increasing, I sail with a friendly 35 and the waves right from behind, which honestly tilts the boat now to the left and now to the right. The navigating green light illuminates the stormy sea from which dolphins jump, looking white in the green light. I enjoy sailing, I watch the nights, high in the sky there are still visible clouds, and everyone seems to be coming right up to me and following me from all sides. I cleaned up Tangun a long time ago and in case the wind rises to 40, I will clean up the genoa and unwind the storm jib. And I did that about an hour later. Around 11 o’clock in the evening, the whole world collapsed before my eyes! The barge began to spin like a pirouette. I knew right away what the cause was, as it didn’t happen to me the first time: the rudder! And yet I could not believe myself. I cursed everything in this world, everything that will be, and everything that was. The waves closed from side to side of the boat, so that the boat tilted strongly into the sea, and I, meanwhile tied to the mast, pulled the mainsail from the last shortening and wrapped it on a boom with a rope, so that it stopped fluttering. The waves pounded into the stern of the boat so hard that the whole boat shook like I could never have imagined it could even shake. I stepped on the spoiler of the boat and tried to touch the handlebars with my foot, but I did nothing about it, except that I honestly cut myself on the broken axle. I threw the rope into the water and it grabbed, jumped into the water to see if it was possible, as I didn’t believe myself that I was left without a steering wheel again. “Is it impossible !!!?” I didn’t care about life at that moment. Jumping into the water could be fatal, especially with a bleeding wound – maybe you are followed by a shark that feeds on food that you throw into the sea, or it could just happen to appear there. I say to myself, “How lucky I am … I would be very happy for him, because he would save me from all the torment, because I know exactly where I am and what follows.”
The boat is still tilting, the stern is pounding into the water and even the spoiler is already cracked. The barge didn’t need very many punches. I hurried with a stormy anchor, threw it into the sea, but the spoiler was still pounding, the speed of the boat with current and waves was 2 kn and in a very “cute” direction towards the middle of the Atlantic. In case the barge withstood all these blows, it would certainly be in the Caribbean once by February.
What to do? I check the AIS and look for any vessels. I can’t find them anywhere at that moment. Then I send what I never wanted, nor wished it would be necessary – DISTRESS, which is sent and sent … until someone accepts it.