She’s a captain now – Nynke van de Nadort

The wind was howling so hard that it hurt your ears. My brother and I were both floating in the water next to the boat. This was one of our first races we sailed as a team together. Capsizing is no biggie in the type of boat we sailed in, but when you do it for the first time it’s terrifying. This was my first season as a captain. As a newbie on the tiller, sailing with the amount of wind that day was the perfect recipe for a classic downwind jibe capsize.

Quite a challenge

To be completely honest, it started as a bit of a shitshow. Through all of the capsizing that season our spinnaker looked like a Swiss-cheese and the top of the mainsail was stained from the muddy bottom of the lake. The important thing was that I was so motivated to learn and to be able to keep up with the rest of the fleet. The desire to proof that I could catch up was enormous.

Was I going to start sailing again?

Then covid happened. Some personal issues too. This caused the boat to be forgotten for a while. Until it couldn’t stay in the garage where it was catching dust anymore. Was I going to sell it? Was I going to start sailing again? I attached a lot of emotional value to that boat, but I decided I was going to sell it. I kept putting it off and then one day I got a call: “Are you going to sail the Sneekweek?” This yearly regatta is known for its amazing stories so I started to consider sailing one last regatta.

You don’t show up to win, you’ve already won as soon as you’ve reached the water.

It was the hardest thing to even show up. I didn’t have a crew anymore (my brother refused), no car, no sailing equipment. Only a boat and good will. Eventually, everything fell in to place. What seemed impossible was realized. I thought: “after this event I will decide if I will keep the boat”, and you can guess the answer. My new crew told me: “you don’t show up to win, you’ve already won as soon as you’ve reached the water”, aiming at how big of a challenge it already was for me to even get to the starting line.

Starting to sail at sixteen had me believe that I was too late to do more with it than only as a hobby. Coming to Panamá made me realize my skills are valuable. I’ve repaired my own boat for years and know the practical stuff to get things done.

It has been my ticket to freedom.

I might not be a winner on the charts, but starting to teach made me realize that I actually know a lot about sailing. It has been my ticket to freedom for the past seven years and only now, I realize how cool I am for still doing it.

My boat

I am my boat and my boat is me. She’s called ‘Abiadura’, which means speed. I made her into a purple pony boat because before I started sailing I was a horse girl and I thought it was ironic. The type of boat is called ‘Vaurien’ (French for rascal). It’s a 13.4 ft design with a spinnaker and no trapeze. To sail it you need two people (captain and crew) and with a hull that only weighs seventy kilos you’re fast as lightning.

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