Linda Kulla

Linda Kulla
(inducted 2007)

In 1982 and 1983, I was living on the island of Madeira in the Portuguese islands of the same name, working in my family’s embroidery business. Friends of mine, Yvonne and Walther Pessers, were a retired couple from the Netherlands, and life time sailors. Walther was a retired carpenter, and had been building a beautiful 32 foot wooden sloop since they had moved to Madeira for their retirement. After several years, Walther had finally finished the beautiful boat, and it was launched. We enjoyed sailing around the volcanic island, and often sailed around the nearby deserted islands, called Ilhas Desertas. These islands were famous for bird watchers, but completely uninhabited.

The only other inhabited island in the archipelago of the Madeira Islands is an island about 30 miles northeast of the larger island of Madeira called Porto Santo. Unlike Madeira, Porto Santo was famous for its beautiful golden beaches. I had often gone there by ferry, which in those days took about 3 hours. I had never had a problem with the crossing, but a lot of people I know had complained about really rough crossings with terrible seasickness. Since I had grown up sailing and never suffered from that affliction, I thought it just didn’t affect me.

So, in early October, when Walther and Yvonne invited me to accompany them to Porto Santo on their boat, I naturally jumped at the opportunity. Their daughter, Madeleine, was about my age and visiting from the Netherlands. I had heard wonderful tales of sailors encountering pods of dolphins, and I was excited to go. The trip was only to take 8 hours, so we left early on a Friday morning, intending to spend two nights in Porto Santo and return on Sunday, as I had a very important meeting on Monday.

We set off after breakfast on that Friday with only enough food and drink for the day, as the galley was limited, at best, and the ice box was not very big. After all, the boat was really built for day sailing. The morning was lovely, great wind and a clear sunny sky. On a clear day, you can see Porto Santo from the eastern end of Madeira and we had our compass bearings, so we had no concerns.

We sailed along the southern coast of Madeira, passing the quaint fishing village of Machico. Once we passed the tip of the island we headed northeast around Canical towards Porto Santo. About 3-4 hours out, we encountered three dolphins that escorted us along our way. I was so happy sitting on the bow, I could almost touch them. They stayed with us most of the way, and we sailed into the harbor just as the sun was setting. It was stunning. We docked at the primitive marina, and headed ashore for our Madeira wine and espada (scabbard fish) dinner.

Saturday was also beautiful, and we spent time exploring the town, not yet discovered by tourists, and bathed on the golden beach. Madeleine, a tall, platinum blonde Dutch girl was making quite the impression on the beach in her tiny bikini. Her parents joined us for dinner and more Madeira wine.

The plan was to leave on Sunday morning, as I had an important meeting on Monday. Unfortunately, we did not plan ahead, and not until Sunday did we realize we had no food. There is absolutely nothing open on Sundays on Porto Santo, so we filled up our jug with water and bought some bananas from a local’s yard. Vegetation is scarce on the island, so we were pretty happy to get the small hand of bananas. I also basically took the entire basket of bread from the small café where we ate breakfast.

So again, we set off for Funchal on another beautiful sunny day. The wind was pretty light, but we did have a motor, so we would be ok. Although we could not see the island of Madeira, we pushed off heading southwest.

After trying to sail for over an hour, the wind had dropped to almost nothing, so we decided to turn on the motor until the wind picked up. We noticed the swells getting bigger and bigger, and we were pointing right into them. Then I started to think about all those folks who talked about rough crossings. Gradually we noticed a darkness in the sky approaching, and a thick fog rolled in. We weren’t worried at first, as the clouds often sit low over the larger island, and the weather changes quite suddenly as well. Usually a mid day shower clears quickly, and the sun returns for the afternoon. Hours went by, and we could not see a thing. We were pounded by the swells, and I kept thinking that even though our motor was still running, we must be going backwards. Eventually Walther was afraid we would run out of gas, so we turned off the motor and made an attempt to sail onward.

Hours and hours went by, and it was impossible to know where we were. The rain came and didn’t stop and it was so heavy it was nearly dark. I remember thinking that I was not really sure how good a sailor Walther was and wondering if we might have ended up in the shipping lanes without any radar. Besides this, the lack of food was not an issue as no one would even think of putting anything in their mouths. As night set in, we were still being belted by the storm, and rolling like crazy.

Finally dawn came, the rain started to let up, the wind built, and the seas calmed. Still we had no idea where we were, but had no choice but to keep going. After only about ½ hour, our escort returned, the dolphins. They seemed to know we needed some guidance and they showed us the way home.

We finally pulled into the Funchal harbor, 31 hours after we had departed Porto Santo. My firm had already panicked that I had not shown up for the meeting and had called my parents in New York. By the time I showed up at my apartment, just outside of Funchal, most of the neighborhood was there, wearing black, and mourning my untimely death. I had no phone, and had to go into the office to call my folks and tell them I was alive.

Needless to say, that was my last sailing trip to Porto Santo and soon enough I was summoned home by the boss, my dad.

Respectively submitted, Linda Kulla - March 2007