The day I hit the reef – Nynke van de Nadort

“You shouldn’t go near Carenero, that island is bigger than you think.”

The day I hit the reef

As the good and thoughtful sailor that I am, I studied the Navionics map before sailing in between the islands of Bocas del Toro. Things happen, and so did they the day where I was giving another lesson on the 24 ft. monohull called ‘Lagertha’.

Raquel looked up from the front deck and said: “Nynke! We’re coming close to the…” She couldn’t even finish her sentence as we felt the boat stumbling upon the reef. The three of us lost our balance for a second and looked at each other with our eyes wide open.

It’s a sunny, but not a windy day. I’m giving a sailing lesson to an American woman and Raquel is helping me out. She’s been my right hand through this whole teaching experience. With all of the lessons she would stand by me and give her everything to help me out. She couldn’t sail before I met her and I’m proud of the progress she’s made. As a thirty-something Española travelling alone like me, we are the perfect team and while I’m teaching her to sail, she teaches me how to teach.

Sailing around in Bocas Del Toro is tricky, there's reef everywhere. Especially around Carenero and Solarte.

Stranded between Bastimentos and Carenero without even a breath of wind we decided to drop the sails and motor back to the dock. I was starting the motor while the others were dropping the genoa in the front.

Nobody was paying attention to where the current was bringing us. When we hit the reef I was under the impression that the rudder was broken. While trying to discover what is wrong we see something coming to the surface of the water behind the boat. It’s the keel. It detached and now it’s getting dragged away by the strong current that made us hit the reef in the first place. Not thinking about the motor I just started, I grab the rope attached to the cleat in the back of the boat and dive after the keel. It was not much like a dive, more like a crippled puppy jumping after a stick into the water. Almost reaching the keel, with what I would call a front crawl breaststroke-combination, I run out of rope.

Whenever stuff like this happens you tend to learn more than you think.

Looking behind me I see the ‘Lagertha’ at least thirty meters away from me. Motor running, captain overboard and two people on it who look at me with an anxious expression on their faces. While holding the keel I try to catch up with the boat, luckily the motor is not very strong. Finally, I get close enough for Raquel to throw me the rope again. This boat has no latter so imagine that crippled puppy trying to get in the boat again.

As soon as I step into the boat I realize what happened. During the ride back I was thinking I ruined the boat and “how could I be so stupid?” They told me I shouldn’t go near Carenero, because the island is bigger than you think and there is shallow reef all around it. Luckily, when we arrived back we discovered the keel was detachable and that it was only a matter of putting it back under the boat (easier said than done, but we did it).

Things like this happen. Hopefully only once. I’m not the first one hitting this reef and for sure not the last one. Whenever stuff like this happens you tend to learn more than you think.

So let me sum up my valuable lessons:

Don’t lose sight of where you’re going.
When you jump overboard, don’t leave the motor running.
Learn how to properly dive after a keel.
Don’t lose your keel in the first place.

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“You shouldn’t go near Carenero, that island is bigger than you think.”

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