Ilha Azul
07.03.2017 - 27.03.2017
It was my first time 1-5, and perhaps it’s not the smartest watch for me. You tend to sleep from 05.00 till 13.00, have watch, and then go to bed on time (we have two watch days after each other now). That’s where it goes wrong. I, well, tend to go to sleep at 01.00. The watch before shake their heads each time, “Why the hell are you still awake? You’re crazy.” Perhaps. But the best people are ;)
Where we could wear a t-shirt during the day on the way to Bermuda, thermal clothing was produced from bags now. There wasn’t time to stay in bed till five minutes before watch, because the layers had to be piled on. 1-5 luckily goes very fast, and has its privileges; we’re allowed to eat almost anything from the fridge, and get left some of the leftover four o’clock once in a while. During the night you clean the salon, during the day you check the fridge. Pretty ok, in my opinion.
Most people’s little piece of wall is covered in photos and letters. I never bothered, just put up my birthday cards, a note from Emília and Sonnet 18 (Shakespeare) once, in cabin 1. But the tape didn’t hold long, so my walls tended to be bare. With five weeks to go, I dug up the albums I’d been given in my shoeboxes, and took out the photos of my youth, friends and house. With one piece of clear tape each, they formed a collage that started with my parents Italy and on other holidays. Next came my friends, then my house. There, my life. Around the corner hung my dog’s wool, a few cards, the note and Shakespeare. I went off to watch, my head full of thoughts. Those good old days. How different things were. How different they could have been, if we’d moved to Australia. Choices, little and large, that decide our fate. I realised what I’d always known but never fully felt in this way: I’ve had a wonderful life. Thanks to my parents. They might not be perfect, but hey, none of us is. The way they raised me is exceptional. Thank you.
Meanwhile, I’d delivered my letter of appliance. For the function of captain, during the third ship takeover. It is a thing I have wanted since I was told about it on an info evening. I put everything I had in that letter, as my chances were the largest on this takeover. On Thursday I was woken with that I had to go to the wheelhouse. Uh-oh, that meant an interview. I dressed, and entered the wheelhouse. Last times they asked a few questions, talked a bit, and you heard the outcome with the announcement. I was told straight out that it wasn’t me. Yes, I was capable of the task. But there were others who hadn’t had a nautical function before, and choices had to be made. Ok, well, goodbye. So, who’d he choose? Everyone knew before we were supposed to: someone saw the scrap of paper, and that spreads. But, he’d been a bosun, exactly like me. After the official announcement I went to Sam, to ask if there really wasn’t anything else, was there something I could improve? No, it wouldn’t have mattered if it’d been me or Jorge, when it came to it. That was good to hear. He’d just really developed and grown, and saw that himself. Also, he lives on the Azores, so it’s extra special. And this time he kept some people behind, because the last takeover is the hardest and he wants good people there. So just apply next time. Oh, I will.
I had a nice watch, 5-9 with Amelia as mate and Meike as bosun, both friends. One day we were sitting there, in the sun, when we spotted Sam. Oh Lord. His beard was all gone. The last time that happened was a while ago. Then Quinten (one of the new mates) came upstairs. He’d had quite some beard for as long as we’d known him. Not anymore. Uh-oh, Pascal too! What was going on? It must have been the land ahoy: Faial and Pico lay on the horizon, Pico volcano’s peak towering above the clouds. We were almost there – which was a good thing, as even the freezing was starting to look empty.
We arrived early the next morning, during my watch. To arrive in daylight we’d circled around the island and had ended up next to Pico. The gybe failed, so we tacked. As I was bracing the squaresail, I looked up to port. Just ten metres away, a huge rock loomed, it’s height the same as the distance to us. Just a small course alteration, and we’d have hit it. We sailed over to Faial, did a long tack to avoid a risky gybe, over to Pico again, gybe as the sun starts to rise. We were pointing straight at Horta, Faial. The first ones on deck besides the watch, where our Portuguese friends; to them, this is home. As we sailed into the harbour, parents and friends waved frantically, a big “Welcome” sign in their hands. I observed them from my place atop the forestaysail, which I was wrapping. It must be strange, to see your family while you’re still in the middle of SaS. I haven’t missed home one moment, but even if I had, I wouldn’t want to see them then. You’re home, yet in SaS, see them, leave again. No thank you.
They, two girls and a guy, stepped on land first, right into the arms of their families. It was an emotional moment, also for a few of the rest; they were reminded of their own families. Most of us just stood there, unsure of what to do. Then the cake and other delicious food came aboard, and we had the best breakfast in ages. As soon as everything was tidy we’d get free time.
Then the bell rang.
Everyone sighed or cursed and went to the middle deck. Olivia stood to the side, in tears. We all knew why.
Her parents had said they’d fly her back if she didn’t start working on school more. And she had, worked so hard. But she’d started just too late, and her Belgian parents don’t seem to understand that this is a once in a lifetime experience and school is not always the most important thing. They’d known for a week, but only told her moments before. She would fly in a few days.
Everyone was shocked, a lot of people cried. After so long, we were almost home, then this. We’re a family, and she’s one of us. We said things about tying her to the mast, because we didn’t want to lose her. She was the second student to go home. Counting adults, that’s five people sent away, plus one who couldn’t handle it. What a year.
The Portuguese people went home, and would spend the night there, which left us, sad lost students in an unknown yet known place; Europe. Calling was affordable, so was chocolate. We went later than the rest, and the cheapest chocolate was sold out. Five rows of it.
It was weird, being in a European supermarket again. The abundance of choice, everything we need in one place. SaS has made me fully realise how privileged we are, in the west. Funny, as I’ve been in poorer places before, and looked at waste in horror because of it. But we have so much, too much. Other places don’t. Take Cuba, with hardly any products, but what there is all the same brand ten thousand times. Then there are places with hardly food at all. And we? We have too much, so we throw it away. We have abundance. Sadly, most of us are not aware of it, take it for granted, and complain on the daily. We’re a bunch of spoilt brats, in the end.
The second day was spent on school, and in the evening we went out to the restaurant of a guy who has circumnavigated the world twice, single-handed. It was the first of many activities to come.
On Wednesday the mayor received us in the morning, then students from the only secondary school came to the ship. We showed them around and let them climb into the mast and stuff. Around noon we walked to the school, which was surprisingly modern. After lunch we did activities that took us through the whole school, ending with bubble football. I recommend it to everyone who has the opportunity to. It’s all about ramming into your opponent and hoping that you’re stronger, forget the whole football part. And then random people start coming to push you over and roll you around, or put you upside down. You’re totally helpless. All you can do is find a technique to get upright again, and hope for a minute of free running around.
At the end of the day the students took us home with them, two people per family. At first my squad was going to sleep at Emília’s, but it didn’t work out. So I ended up with a family that was mostly vegan. How delightful! The food was delish, and they were super kind. We could eat as much as we wanted, with fruit salad and vegan chocolate cake as dessert. The next morning too, Gwen and I felt like queens. For the first time in forever, there was soy yoghurt. It felt too short, as we were off early to hike along the back of ten volcanoes. Some of them had collapsed, and deep chasms weren’t far from the path. The last volcano was merely sixty years old or so, and had added land to Faial. At the end was a volcanology museum (with very interesting architecture, I must say (it was underground)), where we had a tour and received the videos our parents had made for us. It was a big surprise, and quite some people got emotional. At the end we went up the half-buried lighthouse, to admire the view. Then we called it a day.
Somewhere along the road Sam’d asked the super creative Kika to make a design for the SaS-painting. In Horta it’s tradition and good luck to make a painting somewhere along the dock. As a result, the whole harbour is full of paintings, little and large. SaS makes one every year, and we were not planning to miss out. First a large square of white, next was a sketch in pencil. Then it was time for the real deal. A lot of people painted a little bit, but a few people did most of the work. I was one of the former, although I’d have gladly done more.
On Friday we could sail in little boats, which was entirely different. One group managed to get the boat flooded before capsizing, damn hilarious. They have this underwater shot of the mast, and it looks like something from The Pirates of the Caribbean. Earlier that day I’d missed a visit to the aquarium, because somehow I’d been convinced to do a presentation about SaS at the local sailing club, and I might have procrastinated a little bit. Together with Isa I made a PowerPoint, and thought of some key points. Good to go.
At the club students and parents awaited, and after a drink Isa and I stepped behind the microphone after Pascal’s intro. We told about our journey, showed a video here and there. We might have forgotten to mention the school part, and the ship takeovers. But somehow the 45 minutes were filled to the brim. That’s over and done with.
A lovely buffet dinner was served, including a huge cake with a photo of the Regina on it. We socialized with the students, and took them to the ship after some traditional dancing. Speakers out, awkward party on. Go life. Simply talking ended up being a better option.
Saturday meant packing a bag and going off to the supermarket with a €7,50 budget, to buy enough food for the next 24 hours. We were off on “solo bivak”. Our third of the group climbed a hill, went back down, and found a forest three cow fields, four fences and a wall later. There we started to spread, so that no one else was in sight. After a while I found a nice spot on the edge of a bowl-like valley, filled with horses. I strung up my hammock between two trees, and a tarp above it. There, my little campment. Let’s just lie down for a minute, and update the diary afterwards.
Well, I woke up in the dark. What time it was? I couldn’t say. I hadn’t prepared for the night, so my torch was far away. Well, at least I was nice and warm, in my huge sleeping bag. I lay there, listening to the sounds of the night forest. Sometimes it sounded as if a large troll was bounding through the forest, sometimes I’d hear the soft scratch of a mouse. In time I fell asleep again, only to be woken up by the sound of rain. I was glad for my tarp, although it did have a few holes.
I woke up somewhere before nine, and just lay there, enjoying purely doing nothing for the first time in ages. When I felt like it I had breakfast, and got out of my hammock to go see the horses. When I finally was writing, Quinten came to say that it was time to go. Well, that hadn’t been very long. It might have had something to do with that I’d slept most of the time, but still. The whole point of reflecting on the journey and stuff hadn’t really happened. What had been funny was reading the letter I’d written to myself in Amsterdam, how wrong I’d been on some points. Interesting, how that works.
Back at the ship we were given a presentation about whales, and discovered that the first one we’d seen had been a sperm whale. In the evening our new friends came over, and we talked till late. I’m definitely going back there this summer, for the sassers and the others.
On Monday we finished the painting, and I must say that it’s pretty damn cool. After a moment to call home we left, leaving the last destination behind us. Now we were counting days.
