Landing on Gran Canaria

So now five days have passed since I embarked on the wild Atlantic with my daring crew and finally set foot on solid ground again. This will be a longer entry about the day of arrival and how the days have been for me since then.

In the morning of our arrival (1.12.), I was still preoccupied because our captain, Cyril, had asked me if I would still invite everyone for a meal after our landing in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, as Julia and Elias once did. Still exposed to the alleged threat at sea, I did not feel able to decline his suggestive question. I wanted to invite my crew not out of pressure, but out of gratitude and connection. I had to convey this to Cyril.

But the right moment had not yet come. We were already docked, but only at the marina's gas station, and it was still unclear where we would ultimately park. Cyril was out with all the passports to register us. When he returned, it was revealed to us that there might not be any more space in this marina. This meant that the Nerdanel, the catamaran, would continue directly to Tenerife without me, to prepare for the Atlantic crossing. It was a relief for me because I didn't have to tell anyone. I only wanted to invite the girls as a thank you, but inviting the whole crew didn't feel right to me. At the same time, it meant that I had to quickly clean my cabin and restore it to its original state. So I started working on it.

Cyril went out again to negotiate a spot at the captaincy, Massa and Elia started cleaning the rest of the ship, and I joined them later. Julia explored the situation with her friend over the phone because she also had strong doubts about whether she wanted to sail across the Atlantic with this type of communication.

Cyril returned. We could stay after all. However, Cyril was not happy with how Julia behaved. He had apparently picked up something from the phone call and initially discussed with Elia what Julia's problem was and if she didn't want to continue sailing, I could continue with him instead. Elia was supposed to talk to her. And to me: Would we have dinner together later? - I pretended to have already booked a hostel and would not have dinner together anymore. He took it calmly. A more detailed explanation of my motives had to wait or maybe not happen at all because Cyril still had my passport to register all of us at the Policia Portuaria at 12:00 o'clock.

And then came a conversation that would change a lot for me: Julia came on board and Cyril bombarded her with questions about her problem. Julia insisted that everyone speak together. It became very emotional: there was shouting, tears flowing, and I stood tense in the room, silently watching everything. I was very glad that Julia cared so much to convey her feelings and wishes to Cyril. At first, it fell on deaf ears, but eventually even Cyril began to show more. The challenge of being captain and keeping everything in view, being together almost day and night for two weeks, working with amateurs (which was the first time for him), and then his temperament and fallibility suddenly elicited empathy. Plus, understanding the intensity of the journey at sea, where almost everyone reaches their limits and their demons. Massa also passionately agreed, emphasizing how special and intense this way of traveling is. He also gets snapped at and has to let go of his ego and let the 'old man' speak. It's more about sparing the captain and supporting him wherever possible. In case of emergency, he is the one sitting at the helm for days without sleep. We entrust our lives to him, which we must do wholeheartedly, just as the captain bears full responsibility for bringing us back on land alive. This demands a lot from everyone, but we must be aware of that when sailing. I could understand their perspective even though I also knew that there are other ways to communicate. Ways that still leave room for appreciation. I know that in this regard, I am very privileged in my social environment, and I am grateful for that. At the same time, a respectful approach is also work and not a given. I also know about my own 'demons.' I can be angry too, which can hurt others. And people probably react differently to the same anger based on their own history and current state. Just like with me, my own history and the dependency caused by being at sea would make me feel anxious and threatened. I couldn't leave Cyril's anger with him. I remember the wise thought from Nonviolent Communication that ultimately everyone is responsible for their own feelings. I sense an understanding that seafaring is always a confrontational and intense form of self-experience.

The conversation ends without a solution or agreement. But it ends for everyone with a sense of relief, closeness, and connection. It's strange how quickly things can change when everyone is heard and seen in their feelings and perspectives. Julia decides to continue being on board, and I also feel confident that her further journey will be marked by more mutual understanding, acceptance, and peace. And so, I spontaneously decide to have dinner with everyone after all. Everyone is happy, and a real cheerfulness ensues.

Cyril then leaves to register us at the port police, and I get my passport back and feel free again. Massa invites me to stay for another night; it's Julia's birthday tomorrow, and we could spend the evening together. I feel no pressure. Instead, I think about doing laundry and drying it with the others, which would certainly be beneficial for the smell of my clothes. Besides, I still haven't actually booked a hostel, so maybe I could save the night. So, I agree.

So we spend the day together, go to the marina to have a delicious paella and fish (this time I pay too), clean the boat together from the outside, and enjoy a relaxed evening. It's already strange that I won't be on board anymore, but I'm actually very glad to let the experience sink in for a few days. I feel more prepared for what I might encounter on my next voyage.

I say heartfelt goodbyes to Cyril and Massa the next morning (2.12.) and spend the day at the beach. Later, I meet Elia and Julia again, and we wander through the streets until I take the bus into the mountains in the evening. I am very grateful to have had Julia and Elia as allies on this leg, and it's really nice and a bit sad to say goodbye.

On the bus, I drive the 40 minutes of winding roads almost to San Mateo. I have booked a cave for two nights on the grounds of the Camino Art Hostel. The hostel is very cozy and alternative. There are pictures and collages everywhere, and in the common room, which I only catch a glimpse of on the first evening, people eat together on the floor while two guitars play in the background. There is a dog, Dublin, and many young cats. Every morning and evening, there is food for all guests, but tonight I just want to go to my cave. There is a narrow path down the mountain wall through cacti, agaves, and many bushes from the main house to the cave. In it, there is my bed and a few candles on the bedside table. I lie down directly in bed and look at the rock above me. It is solid and doesn't budge. I feel surrounded by the stone. I hear nothing but the buzzing in my ears and realize how long it hasn't been quiet around me. Then I have a phone call with Rosa. It's good to hear her voice, and at the same time, I realize that I probably need some time for my own movie to settle down before I can be in good contact with her from a distance again.

I sleep really well in the cave (3.12.). It's not even cold, and I already feel very refreshed. I decide to go on a hike. I want to go to the highest point of Gran Canaria, the Pico de las Nieves (1949m). I get some advice on possible routes in the main house because my phone has almost no battery left, and then I set off. It's a really challenging hike, especially because I start in the afternoon and want to make good progress to avoid being caught in the dark on the way back down. I think I will meditate up there, but after the ascent, I am greeted by temperatures near freezing, a thick wall of fog, and a howling icy wind, so I turn back after a short glimpse.

It feels good to be able to decide where I go and to stop and let my gaze wander whenever I want. After the hot summer in the Canary Islands, some plants are starting to sprout again, and it feels a bit like a second spring. However, it's relatively cool, and many trees are also shedding their leaves here. I long for lush green meadows in the Alpine foothills in sunny weather. Or at least a warm cabbage dish. I return to the hostel in time before it gets completely dark and enjoy a warm spinach gratin with plenty of cheese.

By the way, I occasionally check my phone to see if I have received any reactions to my posts in one of the Facebook groups. Now that my location and experiences have changed, I have also provided an update. As a result, I received a response from a Dutch family with two kids who want to go to Gambia and Senegal first and then sail to French Guiana via the Cape Verde Islands. It's not actually part of my route, but they sound nice, and secretly, Africa is still on my list. So I arrange to meet them the next day (4.12.) in Las Palmas to get to know each other. It goes really well. The mother also has a background working with children, and I immediately feel like we speak the same language. I also get to know the children, and Robin, the younger one, shows me the whole boat. I almost feel embraced. Everything sounds great. And I can see how well I can contribute. The only catch is, and that is ultimately why I decide against it after careful consideration, that they probably won't arrive in French Guiana until early February. That means I would be with them for over two months. It could certainly be exciting and bonding, and I would also get to know other countries and a special family with undoubtedly special children, but it wouldn't really allow me to decide for myself when, where, and how long I stay. Giving myself over to others and adapting is something I'm good at, but I want to practice making autonomous decisions and be able to be mindful of myself in the uncertainty of the unplanned and unstructured. So I decline on the following day but meet Rene again because I had left my cap on their boat. I also have a little gift for Robin and Lauren for Santa Claus (in Holland, the more important Christmas on the 5th of December), which I had bought in a sweet little shop on a whim the day before. I also receive a gift alongside my cap, and I'm very happy. It's a bit of a shame to let go of this opportunity, but learning to say no is also something I need to work on.

At the same time, I also meet Peter and Irene, an older couple from Switzerland. They also contacted me because of my posts, and they are super nice and warm-hearted. However, they will only be participating in the ARC (Atlantic Rally Crossing) with 60 other boats on January 9th, 2022, so I still keep the option open to find an earlier opportunity. The two of them are understanding, and there's no rush with the decision yet. With them, it would certainly be very relaxed, and I could use the time until then to explore the other Canary Islands. But I actually want to go to Colombia and wander around alone there before Rosa also comes to Colombia in mid-February, and we will be on the road together for some time. And I will need some time to get back to the mainland from the Caribbean as well. So, we'll see...

After being on the go all day, carrying all my stuff, making myself known to everyone and my ambitions with a sign in the marina, and directly approaching various people, I return to the Camino Art Hostel in the evening. Here I can sleep in a tent with a thick mattress for 6 euros, and all the other hostels in Las Palmas and the surrounding area are fully booked anyway. Currently a popular travel destination.

I already feel really comfortable here at the Camino Art Hostel. It's a peaceful place in nature, and there's a good vibe. So, I decide to have a proper chill day the next day and do nothing. I haven't had that since I left.

So on Sunday (5.12.), after a small yoga session, I spend almost the entire day on the terrace with a view over the green gorge. I enjoy the sun, chat, sing along to the guitar playing, and eat my way through all my supplies. I also get to open my Santa Claus gift :). In the afternoon, I have a video chat with Amy and Chang, the parents of a Chinese family who lived in Australia in recent years. They have a 10-year-old daughter, Alica. Besides a British crew member who is already recruited and seems to know more about the technical aspects of sailing, they are looking for someone to support with cooking and keeping the ship tidy. The conversation is nice, even though I don't quite feel the vibe, and it feels a bit more like a job interview. But towards the end, I connect with Chang about a healthy lifestyle and sports. I'm curious to see how it will turn out. Ideally, they would like to leave Tenerife before the 11th of December. We agree to let the decision about my financial contribution until the next day. I receive this information even in the evening. I find 25 euros per day a bit much and ask if it's possible to reduce it by 5 euros.

The next morning (6.12.), I receive the confirmation for the reduced price, and I am advised to come to Tenerife for a personal meeting as soon as possible, preferably tomorrow. Things are moving pretty fast now, but okay. I spend one more day at the hostel. One break day wasn't enough. I do a thorough workout in the morning, have a relaxed breakfast, and then borrow Daniel's laptop, the Venezuelan volunteer who has been living here for eleven months. So, I write and do some research.

I stay another night here and will take the ferry to Tenerife tomorrow. I'm curious to see how the real-life encounter with Chang, Amy, Alica, and my British roommate will be. In any case, it is possible that I will arrive in the Caribbean before New Year's and celebrate Christmas in a completely different community - if at all.