Chapter 1 Once around the Lighthouse….

My problem, when I was young, was that I was hyperactive. Not just fidgety, but needed to be always doing something. I ran around a lot, yelled and screamed a lot and generally ran my parents ragged. I did manage to get through school and University but everyone considered that feat to be nothing short of a miracle.

My family was a mixture of Spanish, Portuguese and, from way back, Moorish influences so we spoke both Portuguese and Spanish at home. I was a bit short on height when I was twenty-one, but lean and fit with it. I had taken up many sports in my years in the education establishments, mainly as a way to get out of having to be academically inclined. My forte was running first and, in University it became rowing. I had won medals in the sculls and was a mainstay of the eights, being part of a team that won the interschool championship three years running.

The problem was that being able to swing an oar is no substitute for knowledge and I found myself as a very lowly person on the slippery pole of life. On day, while mopping out the train station toilets in Oporto, I picked up a newspaper and saw an advert that changed my life. The paper had put up a prize for anyone who could achieve a rowing feat that no-one else had managed. They were prepared to provide a boat, get sponsors for provisioning, and kit out anyone who was prepared to row the Atlantic Ocean from the east to west solo – you choose your route but the departure point and destination point must be Spanish or Portuguese speaking.

My folks were not amused when I showed them the clipping but there were two factors in my favour. The first was that I was a known rowing champion; and the second was that they wanted me out of the house. They decided that it may be an antidote to my hyperactivity if I was weeks in a small space and rowing all day, every day. They had the idea that it may calm me down as well as giving them a period of peace.

I went along to the newspaper office and got the entry form for the quest. The girl who gave me the form smiled brightly when I took it from her and said that she had won the office sweep as being the first person to give out a form and I had to stand next to her while she took a selfie to prove it. At least it didn’t look like there would be a flotilla of us heading west.

Back home I filled it in. Name - Halley Garcia. Age - twenty four. Address, next of kin, previous rowing experience, can I swim? And so I filled it all out and posted it by registered mail back to the paper. They called me and asked me what my departure point and destination would be and I told them that I would leave from Portuguese Guinea, or as it is known today, Guinea-Bissau. I would leave from the port of Bissau and row, hopefully, to Salvador, in Portuguese speaking Brazil. Being close to the equator I could leave at any time during the year but opted for the first day of April, April Fools’ Day.

I had estimated that it would take me about three months to row that distance and much of the way was through the Doldrums Sea, a section of the Atlantic that often went windless for weeks on end. Anything is better than rowing into a stiff breeze. The newspaper agreed with my point of departure even if there were very few Portuguese left in the country and said that they would get behind me, so I gave up my job and started making my preparations to leave.

I was given the craft, a double ended boat with each end having covered and waterproof cabins. One was for sleeping quarters and the other for provisions. You sat in the middle with the oars. There was a small mast and sail if you lost the oars but the prize would not be given if you broke the seal on the packaging. Provisions consisted of lots of packages of dried food (just add water) and tins. There was also a large tank of pure water which was just for drinking. Any washing or cooking would have to be done with sea water and there was a small kerosene burner for heating. I had an epirb and a flare gun and a small radio to keep in touch with home base

I spent a week on the water, training in use of the supplies and getting used to the craft. Then there was a small ceremony where I hugged my parents, shook hands with some dignitaries and got me and the craft onto a coastal steamer that would drop me off in Bissau in a few weeks. They had organised someone there to officiate at the start of my journey.

The trip south was very pleasant. I worked out on the rowing machine in the crew gym and lifted weights to get my upper body into the peak of fitness. I helped out with various jobs on the boat and got quite friendly with those in the crew who spoke Spanish. We were getting very close to Bissau when the radio officer told me that a ship had disappeared in the general area that I would be rowing and to look out for any debris that I may see in the water. It had been carrying a large consignment of flax seeds and soybeans.

I had a week in Bissau before I left on the first of April. I would like to say it was with a fanfare but there was just the local newspaper editor and his photographer as well as few interested citizens, most of whom crossed them-selves as I paddled away from the dock. And then it was out through the river mouth and out to sea for the great and lucrative adventure. I had visions of getting off a plane in Portugal with a crowd of screaming and adoring fans. That vision kept me going until I was out of sight of land and on my way.

The routine was boring but made sure I kept going. Row, eat, row, eat some more, row some more, check position on the GPS, get some sleep, have a wash and crap over the side , get breakfast and do it all over again. By the end of the first month I was well into the Doldrums and began to alternate my meals with fish that I caught on a line. I kept myself as neat as I could by shaving with a cut-throat razor I had with me and would also use it to chop my hair if it got too long. I was keeping in touch with the home base and was on track to complete the quest as required but then something happened to change everything.

The day started like any other and then the clouds started building. I listened to the weather forecast and discovered that an unusually bad storm was coming my way. That night all hell broke loose and I was tossed about like a cork for two days. The wind was furious and I was hit several times by flying debris and rolled over more than once. Luckily the buoyancy tanks stayed intact and I stayed afloat. It was the worst experience of my life and I thought I was going to die on more than one occasion.

It may have been for the best if I had drowned, because when I had the chance to inspect my craft once the wind died I found that I had some serious problems. The worst being that the oars had disappeared in the storm, the next worse was that so had my GPS, radio and epirb; all sucked out through a hole in the supposedly watertight provisions part of the boat. I had also lost quite a bit of provisions. I couldn’t call for help and didn’t know where I was so it was a small mercy that the mast and sail remained. When I went to put it up, however, I discovered that it was far too small to be any use at all, merely a wave at safety.

Over the following weeks I ate a lot of fish, much of it raw to conserve what little kerosene I had left. Every day I looked at the sun rise and set and realised that I was drifting south. I must have been blown far enough off course to be picked up by the Brazilian Current that flows south past South America. I had no way of knowing where I was headed and just had to hope that a passing ship would see me. As my packaged provisions ebbed away I was eating more and more fish. I still tried to keep myself neat by shaving but I found that I didn’t need to do it every day but the hair on my head was growing faster.

The other thing that was changing was my body. As I lost my strength from malnutrition my arms and legs got thinner and so did my stomach area. My upper body, however, was losing fat everywhere but my breasts. I stayed sane, somehow, but started to consider using the razor on my throat to finish me off. The situation remained the same for more weeks and I grew more girl-like in my physique. I just had the fish to eat now and was getting close to running out of my pure water. The sail did come in handy to catch rainwater which added to the length of my life, but I was sure that the razor would have to be used sooner or later.

One day I saw a smudge of smoke on the horizon so got the flare gun and fired one off, hoping that they would see me. I put on my life jacket and filled my pockets with the only things I could carry, my passport, credit card with a little money in a bill-fold that I had been given that I had kept for a laugh as it had my named spelled as Haley instead of Halley. I stood as tall as I could and was very happy that I could see the smoke smudge getting a bit closer so I got the flare gun and fired another shot.

The next thing I felt was going upwards as if I was in an elevator and was thrown high in the air. I could hear the craft snapping as whatever had come up under me broke its back and ruptured the buoyancy tanks. When I came down again I was sucked under by the monster that had breached where I already was. I tried to hold my breath as long as I could and prayed that the life jacket would get me back to the surface. I finally could hold it no more and lost consciousness. My last thought was that there would be no adoring fans now.

Marianne G 2021