Little by little

Okay, let's continue. It's Monday, November 22, 2021. I wake up. No alarm clock that wakes me up, but a well-rested feeling that slowly makes me awake. Before the shower marathon of the neighboring guests starts next door, I have time for myself. Not for the destination. I move around in my room extensively. There is just enough space for plenty of sun salutations.

Then I go downstairs to the kitchen to get some supplies and make myself a coffee. I sit back on my bed and write my blog about the past few days. The shower marathon next door continues until the window opens and I slip into the bathroom. Then continue writing. It takes time until lunchtime, so I pack my things together when Michael looks in. He thought I had already left. That's the case 10 minutes later. Before that, I ask Michael if he happens to have a sailboat owner friend in Gibraltar who might be heading to the Canary Islands soon. He dismisses it with a laugh. He also doesn't believe that anyone else is currently sailing in that direction. I let him believe that and continue on my own path.

This path leads me to the bus station in Algeciras through the mountains to the other side of the bay - La Línea de la Concepción. Not very lively, somewhat deserted during siesta time, my path leads directly to the border with Gibraltar: English territory in a Mediterranean ambiance on a giant rock. Passport control, the way through the Royal Air Force hangar, colonial fortifications, pale Englishmen and Fish'n'Chips. I didn't have any idea that Gibraltar would inspire me so little. But it doesn't have to, it just needs to provide an affordable hostel for me to stay in, so that from here I can search for a fancy boat, for example, in the fine Queensquay Marina. Emili's Youth Hostel is the only one I can afford. It rather exudes the charm of a run-down long-term rehab for lost souls from the 80s - and that's how it smells too. The squeaky bunk bed will be my night camp for the next two nights. There is one other person living in the room with me. His wardrobe seems to have tipped over onto his bed and dissolved. At least that's how his bed appears. I won't see him in the next few days.

It's already getting dark. I remember that one of the Couchsurfing requests mentioned the "bushes near Alcaidesa Marina", where apparently the yacht hitchhikers in La Línea sleep. If, the well-known yacht hitchhikers sleep there, then maybe the marina will be something. I decide to use the remaining evening for a 40-minute walk back to Spain, to that marina.

As I enter, I spot two backpackers who are just about to leave the marina. I sprint towards them and ask if they are looking for a boat to the Canary Islands. Their eyes light up with hope. But maybe it's also the hope that I see in them, because Arthur and Kristof from Poland have already found a sailboat today that will take them. We exchange information and I feel the joy wobbling from my feet to my ears. Finally, a place where I can find what I'm looking for! The promised land of yacht hitchhikers!

We go together to the bushes - La Selva or jungle as they call the grove of palm trees right next to the marina. They set up their tents there 5 days ago and have been on the marina early every morning. Apparently, the time before the shower house for sailors is a particularly good time to show presence with a sign. In addition, they and others have placed a printed notice with a photo next to the entrance of the marina. Presence and a little patience - that seems to be the recipe for success at this marina.

Matzek joins us from his hammock. He has been here for two months already. He laughs and talks a lot and takes things easy. It doesn't seem to bother him that he has outlasted several generations of yacht hitchhikers in La Línea. It will come and find him eventually. Matzek seems to be convinced of that. We exchange experiences, strategies, and life plans over a few beers and cigarettes. I am deeply moved to find a community that shares and supports my endeavor. I intend to move to the swampy jungle the day after tomorrow as well. It saves costs, provides social support, and a short distance to work. Perfect!

So tomorrow, I will create and print a small promotional poster with a photo and organize a hammock and tarp - I can also use them on my further journey. I have a feeling that things will fall into place and tomorrow will be a good day. I say goodbye to the guys until tomorrow and stroll back to my shelter in drizzling rain.