Dinghy: a means of escape and exploration

To a child living on a sailing boat with siblings and parents, a dinghy is a magical thing.

Even when it's tied up to the boat, it was my favourite place to escape to, with a good book, a pillow for cushioning, and a wide-brimmed hat to shield against the glare of the sun. Somehow, the squabbles of siblings or the clatter from the galley seemed to drift further and further away.

I vaguely remember being sent for a “time out” in the dinghy after misbehaving. Since I adored the dinghy, it never felt like punishment. It was a gift. A place to be alone, floating just a few metres away, yet entirely in my own world.

But nothing compared to the thrill of untying it from the boat and drifting off, setting up the oars or starting the little motor. My sisters and I did this every afternoon when we arrived at a new cove or harbour. We headed to shore or explored nearby islands, spending hours playing pirates or runaways. Time in the dinghy, rowing around and often out of sight from our parents, was pure adventure.

One particular time, when I was an adult and sailing with my parents, our boat was the only boat anchored in a bay off an island near Isla Margarita, Venezuela. This island was unlike any of the others nearby. I read that it might have been affected by the 1530 tsunami that struck the Venezuelan coast. Whatever the cause, the island seemed completely stripped of life. What remained was desert.

I rowed in that afternoon, just after we dropped anchor. The landscape was rock, sand, a bit of soil, and clusters of cacti. I walked around for a short while, but it felt empty, lifeless. Compared to the islands we had just visited, Los Testigos, there could be no stronger contrast. Life on those islands had burst out of every crevice. The variety of plants was amazing.

But here, there was nothing.

Or so I thought.

The next morning, I came again. This time, at sunrise.

With the rarefied light of early morning, the desert transformed into something extraordinary. What I had thought colourless revealed itself as a palette of browns, reds, oranges, yellows, and beiges beyond description. Across the desert floor, footprints criss-crossed in every direction, signs of animals and reptiles of all sizes. The sine waves of passing snakes cut across the sand. The shadows made the flat earth ripple with depth and movement.

I stood there speechless, breathing only in shallow bursts, caught completely off guard. I etched that moment into memory, pressing it deep into my heart.