I had been dreaming about this lasagna all day I would make when I reach the first anchorage. And while sailing, I didn't have the energy to make any lunch, I was still going on a piece of bread and three cups of coffee I had this morning, so I was partly drooling.
The lasagna was in the oven when I went upstairs, with a beer in my hand to check I was still in the same spot and not dragging the anchor. A shooting star cruised over the cloudless dark sky and I smiled. What a life this was.
I woke up around 7 o'clock this morning, wrote a few e-mails and checked the weather forecast. 15 to 20 knots winds coming from north, it was just about perfect. If it had been no wind or gusting 30 knots, I would have gone anyway. Cartagena was sort of getting on my nerves. Not that it is a shit place or anything, I just had enough of a very dirty boat, no swimming from the boat, unless you liked to be wrapped in plastic bags and other shit. I needed to get on with the adventure and Cartagena wasn't the place.
At 9.30 I met with a guy who fixes paperwork and he was still in possession of my passport. Very surprising everything went well and all of a sudden there was nothing keeping me back from hitting the high seas. I bought some extra toilet paper, you can never have enough of that now can you, and went back to Solitude in my dinghy.
This trip I wanted to do by my self for some unknown reason, it just felt right to do it by my self, even though there were lots of backpackers who wanted to go to Panama. The outboard and dinghy got on deck with no problem and I fired the engine. The anchor chain was right next to fucking disgusting, since it had been in the water for a month. I hosed it off as good as I could but it still smelled like rotten fish. I had to clean that later when I got to the new anchorage.
With absolutely no wind - thank you very much again weather forecast - I motored out of Bahia de Cartagena with a few freighters passing me, and the high buildings disappearing behind me and the wind picking up. I put out the head sail but the wind dropped again and I pulled it in again - thank you very much again weather forecast - it was flapping like crazy. Once I got out of the bay, pass the old fortress and a bunch of local fishermen, the wind was dead astern and I pulled out the head sail again, turned off the engine and was cruising 7 knots. 7 knots is maybe not much or maybe you haven't got a clue how fast slash slow, that is.... When you run a normal pace, you are doing about 7 knots and yes that might not be very fast when you are traveling, but try to move you house and everything in it at 7 knots or about 12 kilometers an hour. Thought so, it is pretty fast and very cool to be able to do so.
After a couple of hours I got to the spot I was recommended just south of Cartagena, but my charts were not very detailed and I didn't want to upset anybody or get Greenpeace running after me by destroying coral reefs, so I decided to go on to the Bahia de Barbacoas and anchor there for the night. I passed in between Isla de Baru and Isla Arena watching the depth gauge. On my chart it was around 6 meters but when the gauge read 4 meters, I started to think what to do when I hit ground. Would Greenpeace tow me out or just laugh at me? Nothing happened, it was a exciting moment but I cruised right over the shallow part and back into 20 meters of water.
Bahia de Barbacoas is a huge bay, around 5 nautical miles across, however, it didn't look very tempting to put my hook down in the seabed. Small waves were coming in and that would be a rolly night that have done one too many times. After some more thinking I turned Solitude around and sailed to Isla Grande, where Kenneth and I had been three weeks ago. I knew the anchorage was flat as a pancake and the water crystal clear.
First try and the anchor was set plus 45 meters of chain in 5 meters of water. Yes, it is a lot of chain, but the wind was racing over the anchorage at around 30 knots and I wanted to be sure that I was still here next morning and not damage the eco system 200 meters behind Solitude.
The sun went low on the horizon with me sitting in the cockpit, and by law of the sea, I had a beer in my hand. Wouldn't break any law now would I? Ah yes, the lasagna was brilliant....
Day 2:
Woke up around 8 o'clock with no wind what so ever and a flat anchorage. I could see the bottom 4 meters below me through the water and it was very silent around me. Coffee, two eggs and a piece of bread that was so dry, it almost gave me the hiccups.
The work call me but I sat in the cockpit with another cup of coffee instead, reading a book and enjoying the silence.
Two locals came along side Solitude in a wooden boat with a 15 horsepower outboard engine, asking me if I wanted to buy some lobster. I don't eat fish or anything that comes out of the sea - I know I know, how can I do that when I live on a sailboat... ??!! I don't like it - and lied, I was allergic to fish and lobster and tried to puff up my face, to make it look worse. The two locals replied with an acknowledging aahhh, and motored on.
The work called again, so I went to the toilet, did the morning ritual and read a magazine.
The work called once again and I found my self in the cockpit once again, reading a book, but now, drinking a glass of ice cold orange juice.
The work called for fuck knows which time and I completely forgotten about what I was suppose to do. The note on the navigation table reviled the awful truth, I had to dive under the boat and scrape the bottom of Solitude.
Dive gear, weights and tank on deck. Put everything together. Handle on tank broken, get another tank, very low on air, find another tank, only half full, finally in the water...
The hull of Solitude wasn't that bad, if it had been in the water for two years, but three weeks in Cartagena....!!! This was unbelievable how much growth had developed in such a short time. I even scraped off a Tedania Ignis in the Demospongiae class... or in normal language, a orange Fire Sponge common in Florida, Bahamas and the Caribbean... at least it wasn't lost in the wrong sea...
I got a bit tired of the scraping business and went over a coral reef 10 meters away, to find beautiful hard and soft corals and the usual reef fish. 10 minutes of fun diving and back to the hull.
The scraping was to be continued, I was really low on air and went back onto, a much lighter Solitude. Let the equipment dry on deck and ate some lasagna from yesterday.
Since I was low on clean boxers I had to do some laundry. Find bucket, put dirty boxers in it with detergent, boil water, pour hot water into bucket and let it sit for a couple of hours... I haven't done much laundry on the boat so I guess this was the best way to do it. And since it was very hot and all my boxers were wet, I decided to go naked.
I have never understood the people, who meet up in various camping sites on the outskirts of Denmark and then spend a week completely naked, cruising around, drinking a few beers and play mini golf, butt naked. Why the hell do they have to be naked?!?! Well, I kinda know why now after spending a couple of hours with my willie hanging out. When I put my clean boxers back on, I felt like putting on a huge mink coat and my freedom disappearing.... would I do it again? Don't know the answer to that, but I'm a practical person and my butt hasn't seen the sun for over 30 years for more than 10 seconds at a time, so it would take more sun-blocker than Solitude can carry, if I decided to go naked for a week....
Various small things on Solitude got fixed and cleaned and I was back in the cockpit with my book, and now a beer. I still had to patch two holes on my dinghy, that had all ready been patched but leaking badly. The sun fell behind Rosario Island and I started to work on the dinghy. It can only be done with no sun on it and a temperature under 25° celsius, which is nearly impossible in this part of the world. And then it has to dry fro 48 hours and the glue is not completely dry after 7 days... How hard can it be? Very! I have to use the dinghy every day back and forth to land from Solitude at anchor...
Earlier today a guy stopped by my boat trying to sell me fish. I lied again about the allergy. He could see I was working on my dinghy since I had it winced up in working position - how high is that?! - and offered me a lift to the island in his boat. I thanked him but said I was fine here and I had to fix my dinghy.
With the dinghy fixed, hopefully, lasagna in my stomach again and a few episodes of Top Gear on the computer, I will call it a day where I leaned... not very much!
Day 3:
No wind at 8 in the morning. Drank coffee and ate some bread. Pulled up the anchor and left Isla Grande. When I got out through the two buoys marking the entrance through the reef, I looked up at the wind indicator that was pointing in every possible direction, there was no wind what so ever.
I set course towards Isla Tintipan about 25 nautical miles south from Isla Grande and motored away. The sea was amazingly flat and I was cutting through it with about 6 knots. Two dolphins came up to Solitude and played for a few minutes and disappeared.
Not a cloud in the sky, beautiful blue water surrounding my floating home, what a day......... to empty the shitter tank. Went down stairs with the autopilot steering, turned on the switch for the holding tank pump, opened the seacock, turned on the pump that made some sounds I haven't heard before and waited. On regular basis, I could sort of hear stuff getting through the pipes but nothing was sounding like that. With the pump going I went upstairs to have a look if anything came out but nothing here either. Back to the pump that was getting a bit hot, so I turned it off for a while and tried again, still nothing!
After a bit of thinking and more swearing, I went back to the pump and tried again and now it was sounding like it was completely broken. The most sacred place on the boat had just been disabled, I could NOT use the toilet! And I had just fixed it a year ago plus the pump was no more than 3 months old. A little bit of thinking and a shit load of swearing didn't help much.
I went back to the cockpit, got my shorts off to punish, who ever needed to punished for breaking my shitter pump and started to count to a million. In between 12 and 13 my mind started to think positive, now I would connect the toilet direct to the outlet so when ever you flush the toilet, you donate your used food to the sea. No more holding tank pump, no more sailing around with collected shit and waiting to empty it in deep water. After all, it is organic, isn't it?!
Do you know the feeling, when you are in a church, temple or mosque you can't laugh out loud due to respect for the place, but you have to fight this feeling of bursting out in laughter and when you start to think about it too much, it is getting worse and worse. You just want to laugh every thing out but due to respect for the place, you just can't do it.
This same feeling was no developing in my stomach, not that I wanted to laugh, but now I had to take a shit and the toilet had just broken down. How weird is that?!?! I didn't have to go when the toilet was working fine but the second I realized it was broken.... here we go!
I managed to fight it off with out the turtle looking out through its shield, if you know what I mean, and got closer and closer to Isla Tintipan, now wearing my shorts again, the world had been punished enough with my bare ass.
In 4 meters of water I dropped the anchor, drank a beer and started to work on the hoses from the toilet, pump and holding tank. I found a piece of pipe in a box under a seat, I could fit on the through-hull-fitting, to get the pipe fitted to the hose from the toilet, so the chances of paper and stuff was less of getting stocked. Smaller hole, more problems, bigger hole no problems...
With the hoses attached to the holding tank blocked off, and the hose from the toilet attached to the through-hull-fitting, also called a seacock, I tested the toilets flushing with some bread, a little toilet paper and way more toilet paper and when I was sure it was working, took it for a major test drive.
Now I just have to remove the hoses and worst of all, the holding tank, still containing a bit of stuff... I just love living on a sailboat :-)
More beer, a sunset, food and a movie.
Day 4:
The toilet is mounted on a wood box and when I was doing my morning ritual, I noticed I could move around a bit too much. The toilet had come off its wooden box it is mounted on. And I thought there was no more to be fixed, don't EVER think that when you are on a sailboat...
I sat in the cockpit, listening to the very noisy silence, there was not a sound to be heard, and drinking a cup of coffee. The sun had just come up. All of a sudden thirty pelicans, flying in a beautiful V-shape, flew out from the island. I reach for my camera as they flew over Solitude but one out of a million photos, the camera wouldn't focus. The moment had passed and so had to pelicans and now the camera was working again, off cause.
The sea was flat and no wind again. I pulled up the anchor with the electric winch and sailed towards Isla Fuerte, 30 miles to the south west. The absolutely no wind, continued. It was pretty uneventful until a tanker passed me around five miles out and then it became very uneventful once again. I started to clean the stainless steal on the back of Solitude... What the hell is up with stainless steal???!! It will stain and you have to fight it every other month. Stainless my ass!
Isla Fuerte came up on the horizon about 10 miles away and then the wind started... well, wind and wind, it was more like a breeze but it cooled Solitude off a bit. From being around boiling hot, it was now around a bit less than boiling!
Close to the anchorage and a small white sand beach, I put down the anchor in three meters of water. A local guy in a canoe came up beside Solitude. I thought he was about to sell me fish or lobster but he told me, that it could be very rolly here, so I should anchor in a little bay five hundred meters away. Another sailboat, from Australia, was all ready at anchor here and I had seen it was rolling a bit.
With the anchor back on board, I motored over to the lush little bay. The local guy was right, here it was very tranquillo, as he put it. The moment I was done and had put out the engine, the guy was back. For fuck sake, I thought, now he properly wants to get money or something else for his good advice. However, he asked me if I wanted some bananas, papaya, bread or cheese from the island... rather suspicious but a craving for fresh fruit, I wanted bananas and papaya. I asked him, in my Spanish, if he wanted money now, just to see what he was saying, but he told me, no, later later!
The night would come on the second day at the anchorage before he would be back, I was thinking for myself. I went below to look at sea charts and do other stuff you do when you are on a boat.
Suddenly a voice was yelling, hello. The guy was back with bananas and papaya and instructions when to eat this. He asked if I was alone on the boat and we talked back and forth for a while. He asked for a drink and I gave him a glass of water he downed in one go. Dinero, money... he wanted 5000 peso, about US$2, so I gave him 10.000 peso, since I didn't have any change and he seemed like a good dude. I told him that my dinghy was not working and after a bit, he understood it.
A hand shake later he disappeared in his canoe telling me, if there was anything I needed I should just yell his name, Antonio, and he would be back.
A bit of swimming around the boat, cleaning of the dinghy bottom and food. If the wind should be existing tomorrow and if I should be that lucky it had decided to come from a decent direction, I would raise the anchor, set the sails and move towards Panama, 90 nautical miles away.
Day 5-6
The tranquillo spot I was pointed to was not very tranquilo during the night. I hadn't slept much because it had been rolling like crazy. It was if your home is moving back and forth to an angle of 10 degrees to either side, constantly. On the verge to go completely insane, I took the decision at around ten o'clock. If I had to be sitting in my rolling home, I might as well do it with the sails up moving towards Panama, and the wind had shifted to northwest with 10 knots, not a lot but at least there was wind from a decent direction.
Once I was in South Africa I was standing by the world biggest bungy jump, 216 meters high. My adrenaline was pumping like crazy and I was nervous, thinking to my self, do I really have to do this. But I had made a promise to my self to do the jump, since I had never tried it before. And how hard could it be...? Other people had done it, so would I be able to do it...
I had the same feelings as in South Africa right now, as I pulled up the anchor, the adrenaline was pumping through my veins and my hands were shaking. I laughed out loud, I love this adrenaline that trickers a nervous state of mind. My brain was telling me, do you really have to do this and I replied, fuck off, yes I have to do it....
It is the unknown mankind is afraid of.
Hunter S. Thompson once said: "When you stand at the edge of the sea, that's the border where civilization and all human rules stop to function. Man become a part of nature and not necessarily on top of the food chain".
The main sail was raised to its fullest and as I rounded the north east tip of Isla Fuerte, I pulled out the full 155% genoa, also known as, the headsail. The engine was turned off and I was now sailing towards Panama and the unknown. The waves were not very big and the wind was still around 10 knots as the last of the local fishermen waved me of, and Isla Fuerte and Colombia slit into the horizon behind me and Solitude.
We cruised at around 4 knots and I smiled, the adrenaline had left my veins and my shaking hands were steady again, this was living life to its fullest. The waves had become a little bit bigger and the wind was now around 15 knots. Nature must have heard my call, give me just a little bit more wind and no more than that, please.
Solitude was slicing through the Caribbean Sea, when I ate some of the bananas for lunch Antonio had brought me yesterday, and they were delicious. I read a book, the autopilot was steering, no spray over the bow, sails perfect set out and we were now going around 5 knots, it could not be more comfortable.
At around 16:00 the wind picked up to around 20 knots and the autopilot had a rough time steering. The rudder was out more than 10 degrees to port, which means there is too much sail up. I reefed the main sail - made it smaller, for you shore-huggers - and rolled in the headsail a bit which helped the autopilot.
Sailing from east to west is pleasant regarding the sun. From morning to around 14.00 the sun is beating down and you need lots of sun-blocker. After 14.00 the sails block for the sun and you sit in the shade.... it sounds like this is nothing, but it is the little things in life you have to appreciate, isn't it?!
More wind picked up and so did the speed and waves. I rolled in more headsail as the sun sank into the sea and the normal blue sea became black and hostile. The darkness surrounded my little world and the adrenaline was back in the veins, I smiled again to my self. The next 12 hours would be like this.
All day I had not seen a single ship, bird, fish or dolphin and it continued like this for hours and hours. The moon was just a small slit of reflecting light from the sun on the other side of the world, and disappeared around 22.00, leaving me with darkness and the stars. There were not a million stars like I had seen before at sea, some clouds here and there made it even darker, but I was in between the Big Dipper to the north and the Southern Cross to, guess where, south.
Way out in the sky, I saw a blinking light. It was a plane around 10 miles from my position, thank fuck I wasn't alone out here.... I watched it for around 15 minutes until it was gone and I was back to being alone.
Food was eaten and with the alarm clock in my cellphone sat to 15 minutes, I lay down to get some sleep. Alarm sounding, sat up, looked around for any ships, alarm back on and back to half sleep. This went on and on for hours. Once when I was not half sleeping, I rolled in the headsail some more, the wind was around 30 knots and the waves about 2 meters. I almost fell off of the bench in the cockpit on the starboard side - the waves were rolling Solitude like crazy - and switched to port.
Alarm, look around, alarm set, sleep. Alarm, look around, eat, drink water, alarm set, sleep. Alarm, look around, take a leak with the safety harness on, alarm set, sleep. Alarm, LIGHTS, another ship?, lights gone after 10 minutes, alarm set, sleep.
Believe it or not - after all I'm a warm water viking - but it was a bit cold, so I had put on my foul weather gear on, my Helly Hansen waterproof pants and jacket. As I was taking yet another leak over the side, with me clicked into a safety line on deck, I couldn't stop thinking what would happen if I fell into the dark sea. I guess Solitude would sail on eventually bump into Panama and leave me behind. I held on tighter as Solitude were riding a wave sideways and the deck almost in the sea. The thought of falling over board was very freighting.
Waves braking over the bow and starboard side of Solitude splashing into the cockpit and waking me up once again... Single handed sailing is not easy.
For the hundred time I put the alarm clock back on, I discovered it was 5 o'clock in the morning, the night was almost over. Only another hour 'till the lonely darkness would go away, swapping it for the warm welcome of the sun, light and the sea turn from deep black, back to beautiful blue.
I'm sure the first 24 hours of sailing single handed, is the worst. Once you get over 24 hours, you sort of get into a routine of sleeping, eating, drinking, thinking and reading. People have done it before. I have met one Dane who crossed the Atlantic Ocean all alone and he was going to the Pacific Ocean, alone. His name is Johnny, living on a 28 foot sailboat and I went to the carnival on Curaçao with him a few years ago....
On the deck on Solitude lay a small flying fish, that made it out of the water away from a predator, but never back in and with further looking around the deck, I found three other ones.
The warm water viking - that's me - was in his right element again. Foul weather gear off, sun-blocker on and music in the speakers. Panama was closing in with another 25 nautical miles to go. I stood on the bow with the waves crashing into Solitude's starboard side and lifting the boat up 2 meters in the air. I was looking for Panama but it was kinda of hazy.
I checked the sea charts once again, just to make sure I was in the right spot. Went back on the bow and saw it after 30 minutes, the mountains of Panama. I laughed out loud and yelled "LAND AHOY!" "LAND AHOY!". I had made it I said, but reminding my self it was not over yet. The last 20 miles are always the worst ones, you badly want to get to the anchorage so you brain is constantly telling you, you are almost there even though it's another 3-4 hours.
the mountains got bigger and bigger as I got closer, and the islands became more visible. At first I thought I saw a ferry but as it got clearer, I realized it was a small islands dotted with palm trees, what a sight!
I got behind two islands north of Snug Harbor called Ulardup, Aridup with the headsail rolled all the way in and just the reefed main sail up. I wanted to get to more calm waters to take down the sail. After sailing with more than 1200 meters below the keel, my heart skipped a beat when I read 10 meters on the depth gauge. I looked at the charts again but there wasn't anything I could run into.
My jaw was on my chest, this was beautiful. Ulardup and Aridup were just sandy islands with palm trees on them, it was like a postcard. Engine on and sail down with no problems, and I motored into the calm water of Snug Habor which received its name from the English schooneres that used to stop here for coconuts in the days of sailing merchant ships, and I could see why. The green palm trees coming right down to the white sand beach, were everywhere. What a place!
Locals - who are Kuna indians - waved at me as I put down the anchor. I jumped into the water for a swim, got back on Solitude and opened a beer, looked around this astonishing scenery and smiled. I had sailed from Colombia to Panama single handed, I had made it.
