After 19 days of sailing across the Indian Ocean, I drop anchor in Mahé, the main island of the Seychelles. I contact the authorities via VHF radio, and they give me coordinates where I need to anchor so that officials can come aboard the Sofía to process my legal entry into the country. I didn’t sleep a wink last night while sailing; we were approaching land, and there was quite a bit of traffic from fishing boats and merchant ships. Even so, I’m alert, full of energy, and eager to go for a walk to discover a new paradise.
Normally, about three or four officials come on board to handle all the paperwork. This time, I count as many as nine people on board the Sofía. They approach in an official boat from the port authority, and once alongside, they begin boarding the Sofía. Four customs officers, two immigration officers, and three health inspectors. There I am, sitting in the Sofía’s cockpit, surrounded by officials and filling out paperwork for about an hour. After finishing the paperwork, the customs agents inspect the interior of the boat, the immigration agents stamp my passport, and, finally, the Sofía and I are legally in the Seychelles.
I weigh anchor and head for a much more sheltered anchorage, closer to civilization. Although I’ve been sailing for 19 days without seeing a single other person, I still don’t feel the need to socialize or interact with other people. Even so, I feel compelled to anchor at Eden Island to tackle the usual “post-long-voyage” tasks: maintenance, repairs, cleaning, organizing, and stocking up on supplies… Eden Island is an artificial island full of resorts, luxury villas, and hotels. It’s the best anchorage to spend a few days focused on these tasks; no matter how windy it gets, the Sofía rests motionless in a perfectly calm sea. On one side, Eden Island shields us, and on the other, the tall green mountains of Mahé, always crowned by the typical rain-laden cloud that drops a light drizzle from time to time.
Work continues aboard, and the Sofía is once again ready to begin exploring the Seychelles. The task that’s taking me the longest is getting the genoa repaired. The sailmaker’s shop is a 30-minute walk from the anchorage. Carrying the sail all the way there isn’t feasible, but the night before, at the bar, while celebrating crossing the Indian Ocean, I struck up a friendship with the bartender, and he offered to give me a ride. Once the repair is done, I walk over to pick it up, and on the way back, I try my hand at hitchhiking. In barely five minutes, a local from the island of Mahé pulls over and offers to drive me back to the Sofía.
Through social media, an officer from the Spanish Navy’s frigate Numancia messages me, telling me they’re in Victoria, the capital of the Seychelles. They invite me to a barbecue, and I meet some of the frigate’s crew. We had a great night—they heard about my adventures, and I learned a lot about their work at sea. The next day, they invite me aboard the frigate for a tour of its 137-meter-long hull. They show me all the decks, the entire interior, the bridge, the helicopter, the living quarters, the control center, and many other areas. It’s impressive—straight out of a movie. Their mission is to combat piracy off the Horn of Africa. I became friends with several of them, but, unfortunately, they set sail the next day for Somalia, back to patrol duty.
After a few days of work on board, the Sofía is back at sea, ready to start exploring, but I’m staying on Eden Island for a couple more days because a very special visitor is arriving soon. Itxi is coming to visit us again, and I’ll be sailing with her for about three weeks. We haven’t seen each other since Christmas in Malaysia. As soon as she arrives, we set sail and escape civilization. We sail 30 miles to the island of Praslin. What a joy to be sailing with Itxi again! Twenty knots of wind, a sunny day, gentle waves, and the Sofía gliding along, heading out to explore secluded beaches.
We anchored at a small white-sand beach lined with coconut palms. It’s nestled in a valley between two mountains, and at either end of the beach there are rock formations and a reef where, thanks to the crystal-clear water, you can make out different kinds of fish in every color imaginable. The waves break on the shore, and at high tide, the beach shrinks to half its size. The wind is gusty because it picks up speed between the mountains, which is a welcome relief since the sun is beating down hard. Since we’re near the equator, a sudden shower cools things off a couple of times a day. We spend our days strolling along the beach, going on excursions into the island’s interior, searching for seashells at low tide, and spending plenty of time aboard the Sofía, reading and cooling off in the turquoise water.
The days are flying by, and I have to remind myself once again to be mindful of what I’m experiencing. It feels surreal to be here in the Seychelles with my partner and Sofía. Behind this opportunity lies a lot of hard work, effort, and difficult moments. As always, the good times tip the scales. Ever since I set sail from Spain, I’ve been living the dream.
