Thailand - The Islands

The word ‘Ko’ or ‘Koh’ means island in the Thai language. Some of these islands are very dramatic, bright green gems jutting out of the deep blue sea.

We left Langkawi on 29 December, very pleased to be in more open water (though this body of water is still the Malacca Strait we were now out of the narrow channel) and sailed slowly through the southern islands to the Butang group, stopping at Ko Lipe.  We rowed into shore that evening and walked barefoot along the beach which was lined with open tents hung with brightly coloured awnings, furnished with carpets, cushions and low tables upon which stood smoky candles and a hookah. A cool sea breeze rustled the colourful drapes, snuffing out the candles, and mingled the scent of the sea with those of the land – fish and seaweed, incense and marijuana, suntan lotion and cigarette smoke, diesel and gas fires, garlic and chilli. Music floated out from the row of makeshift wooden hut bars and restaurants set beyond the tents leaving a sandy walkway in between. People lounged in the tents, talking and caressing, smoking and drinking.  It was all very romantic, sultry and sexy and somehow exactly what I expected of Thailand, except most of the customers looked like tourists.

Next we went to the divine pair of islands, Ko Rok Nok and Ko Rok Nai, which are somewhat off the beaten tourist track and still unspoiled.  We chose Rok Nok and hung on a mooring buoy.  Mike dived straight into the water as he always liked to have a good look at either his anchor or, in this case the mooring, and came hurtling out very quickly when a big striped whale shark came sliding by.  He was an ugly looking brute and quite put us off swimming, unfortunately, as we found out later they are perfectly harmless.  That night was New Year’s Eve which we spent in solitary splendour in this perfect spot.   There was no moon but the night was brilliantly starry and utterly peaceful.

Next morning, the first of January 2006, we rowed in to this pristine beach and explored the island. The Ko Roks are part of the Ko Lanta National Marine Park and there were some rustic cottages with cooking and washing facilities ashore. There are no villages or resorts and the only people living here exist on the Ko Rok Ranger Station.  We saw no one.

The next island on our route was the much more developed Ko Lanta where we found a less pleasant anchorage called Ko Kluang. Mike went ashore, scrounging among the rocks and collected some crabs and oysters which he cooked and said were delicious – Mike is quite marvellous in that way, he will eat almost anything, but I’m more of a ninny and didn’t fancy the look of them.


We only spent one night and then moved on to the famous Phi Phi islands (pronounced Pee Pee). We anchored in Ton Sai Bay on Phi Phi Don, the larger of the two, which is inhabited – it’s smaller sister Leh is not. The diving is very good around all these islands.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                  Loh Dalam at low tide

 

This was the first time we saw evidence of the 2004 tsunami which passed right over the strip of land between Ton Sai and Loh Dalam Bays, wiping out everything in its path, causing massive destruction to property as well as the loss of many lives. Much had already been done to rebuild the island’s infrastructure, but there was still a lot of work going on and many of the youngsters now living there were actually volunteers. In total Thailand lost 5395 confirmed dead, though many more lives were estimated lost. Indonesia in fact suffered far greater losses but as we made so few stops there we saw no evidence of the tsunami.

The traditional boats in South East Asia were narrow wooden canoe types, with a very long prop shaft out the back (for good manoeuvrability) and an extremely noisy little engine. There were always loads of them clattering up and down, shattering the peace.

Freedom Fargo was anchored next to us and we went over to share a few beers with Alf and a bunch of young backpackers he had on board.  A happy group, they loved it there and were having a great time. The island was chock full of tourists, mostly young, suntanned, half naked and long haired – with pop music filling the dusty streets and the whiff of marijuana in the air it could have been the sixties. The place had a good atmosphere and we enjoyed our stay, but it was easy to imagine just how beautiful these islands would have been before all the people and attendant ‘stuff’.  I had to keep reminding myself that we, too, were tourists and should therefore not be resentful.

Leaving these lovely remote islands, on the 7^th of January 2006, we sailed into Nai Harn beach in Phuket.  Here is the map of our travels from Singapore.  We add Malaysia and Thailand to bring it to 33 countries, and 652 miles to bring our voyage to a grand total of 26,242 nautical miles.

Malaysia - PD to Langkawi

8 December 2005

One day sail took us to Port Klang where we anchored for a night next to the German yacht Freedom Fargo. It was stinking hot. We spent our days in a damp sweat and the nights were awful, especially when it rained as it seemed to do every night and we had to close all the hatches! There was a lot of rain about, in the form of short, sharp, vicious squalls. It was what they call the ‘monsoon’ and we got awfully sick of it.

The next day we continued northwards.  The Malacca Strait widened considerably from here onwards and sailing was generally less stressful. However, in the middle of that night our prop stopped spinning. Mike actually thought it might have fallen off and we spent a miserable night thinking we had a hugely expensive problem to solve. Fortunately, a little wind sprang up so we could continue by sail.  Later that night, during my watch naturally, we had a near run in with a fishing boat that wouldn’t move out of the way and I misread his red light as a port light. Adrenalin pumping stuff, as I couldn’t alter course being already as close to the wind as I could get but he moved at the last minute, thank God! We limped slowly but perfectly into the anchorage at Pangkor Island the next morning, as always dead proud of ourselves. To Mike’s relief, the problem was only a large plastic sack, tightly wound into the prop, which he spent a whole morning cutting away.

X marks our anchor

On the green lawns beyond this beautiful beach were an old house and disused restaurant and bar on stilts. We thought it an ideal place to buy and just settle down, making a bare living selling beer, sandwiches and ice cream and renting out bikes and kayaks. Sense got the better of us, sadly.

A day later we left and did an overnighter to the island of Penang. It continued blisteringly hot, there were lots of thunderstorms bringing rain almost every day. Though the Strait was choked with fishing boats, we caught absolutely nothing on our lines.

We anchored at Junk Anchorage off Georgetown next to Freedom Fargo and met Alf, a single hander. Getting to land from the yacht required taking the dinghy into the edge of Chinatown (built on stilts at the edge of the water), climbing up a ladder and walking right through dozens of these tiny slum dwellings, generally full of people. They just stared at us without curiosity and we gave up greeting them or apologising though we were embarrassed and went in as little as possible.

Water bus between the island and mainland

One day we took a bus through town and then the Funicular Railway up to the top of Penang Hill. In the coach with us was a young woman in a jet black burqa, heavy thick material which covered everything except her hands and a veil covering her face except the eyes, which were darkened with kohl and extraordinarily beautiful. Despite the appalling heat, her demeanour was cool and tranquil.  I felt hot just looking at her, which I tried not to do, though Mike felt no such qualms and couldn't take his eyes off her. She was accompanied by a man wearing pale khaki slacks and a white short sleeved cotton shirt.

Penang Hill

Malaysia was quite marvellous, with incredible ethnic, religious and culinary diversity, beautiful green countryside and ultra modern skyscraper cities. I found it very exotic, particularly all the different temples and mosques.

Buddhist

Hindu

Muslim

Our last port of call in Malaysia was the island of Langkawi.  After an overnight sail through a terrific storm we anchored off the main town of Kuah, on the south of the island.  There are dozens of good anchorages all around this island and it is very popular with the cruising community.  Food and (particularly) beer are cheap and many boats just stay here - for years! We met up with Moonshadow and Freedom Fargo again and met Boris and Lisbeth on the Swedish yacht Li.  We liked the town of Kuah and spent a pleasant time there, though it continued to rain often.  The heavy rains and often cloudy skies did make things slightly cooler.

Kuah

We managed a little touring; the Oriental Village, touristy but lovely, and took a ride up the cable car - spectacular views of the island.  On Christmas Eve, we moved out of Kuah and sailed up to Telaga harbour on the north west coast.  We spent three nights in the new marina which was nice and reasonable, but unfortunately miles away from anything.  In the marina complex there were various tourist shops and a small store for essential, but expensive, groceries.

Telaga Marina

New friends Boris and Lisbeth on Li were also in the marina. Christmas was very un-Christmassy, a pot luck barbeque on the beach with a bunch of strangers. The anchorage off the beach in this stunning location was quiet, safe and very sociable so we moved out and stayed a few more days.  I could see why boats ended up staying so long here. 

Before heading off to Thailand we shared a taxi with another couple to go shopping in Kuah.

Malaysia - Kukup to Port Dickson

Selamat Datang

The first word we learned in Malaysian, ‘Selamat Datang’ means Welcome and is written everywhere you look – outside shops and offices, in the streets and on most documentation, and we did feel most welcome here with the one exception of our first stop, Kukup.

24 November 2005

After a long hard motor all day, out of Singapore and into the Malacca Strait we stopped for the night at the first available place, Kukup, not wanting to negotiate in the dark through the hundreds of floating fish traps. Kukup was an amazing little fishing village, all set on stilts. There were floating fish farms everywhere, the water an uninviting dark brown, the stench of dead fish and the noise of dozens of diesel generators overwhelming. The people, perhaps rather astonished to see us, were none too friendly and no one could point us to an anchorage, so we just anchored where we could. It wasn’t nice and boats kept roaring past, rocking the boat uncomfortably.

We remained on board and had our dinner in the pong and racket, and no sooner had all the generators switched off to a blissful silence for the night, than a disco started up on the shore and blasted away until the wee hours. A disco - in a place like this on a week night!  Weird pop music blaring and kids singing along. It was totally bizarre.  In the morning we pulled anchor and high tailed it out of there heading north up the strait.

Sailing in the Malacca Strait was stressful but less so than we’d expected. We kept to the right hand edge of the big ship lane, also trying to keep well away from the fishing boats that worked closer to shore. It was vital to keep a good watch all night and we ran all our lights as there tended to be rather a lot of fishing boats. The lights at night were really confusing; fishing boats sported either a red or a green or a white light, none of which had anything to do with navigation! They didn’t seem to bother with navigation lights.


However, without mishap, we arrived in Port Dickson about 50 miles north of Melaka (that’s how they spelled it), after a night outside the harbour, more or less waiting for dawn, punctuated by one nasty ‘Sumatra’ squall. It came shrieking in minutes and took me rather by surprise (my watch as usual!) and nearly laid us flat on our side. Coming into PD we scraped Forever’s bottom on some rocks, but no damage done.

Port Dickson town centre

After check in, we went on the hunt for Mike's pills and met a delightful Chinese Malaysian man called YP (Yew Peng) who managed a health store-cum-pharmacy-cum cafe. Intrigued by our life-style and the fact that we were looking for a place to settle, he felt we should make PD our new home and develop the food side of his cafe, specifically English food for the yachting community. He took us firmly under his wing and made our visit really memorable. He drove us in his car on a day trip to Melaka - a fascinating old city.

Antique shop - bought a lucky green dragon

Touring the old town by rickshaw

On another occasion YP took us into the teeming, sophisticated metropolis of Kuala Lumpur.  Our time there was restricted by the hideous traffic, but it was interesting all the same.

 The Old China Cafe in Chinatown

He took us on a tour of the charming and very crowded Chinatown that evening and then for a delicious dinner in a street food court. It was great to be with a local who knew what was what - YP ordered all the food and it was just perfect.



We invited him to come for dinner on our boat one night – he’d been down to the harbour and seen Forever bouncing and rolling unhappily at anchor and the little dinghy sitting parked a long walk up the rocky beach – and he accepted but persuaded us to move into the marina for a day, offering to pay although we refused. We figured he couldn’t face the thought of the dinghy ride! We moved into Admiral Marina, personally very glad to do so as the anchorage off the town was uncomfortable and the weather deteriorating, and YP came to dinner. We intended to leave then, but he persuaded us to stay on a bit longer and insisted on paying for the marina for a whole week. This was no hardship as the marina was very well appointed with lovely gardens and a huge swimming pool we took advantage of.

 

Admiral Marina

I tried to get into the spirit of developing his cafe, and on his suggestion went there and cooked meals for him a few times. But with almost no actual yachting community, apart from us, and in a country where excellent food is available for a pittance on almost every street corner, I just couldn’t see his concept working – and English food, fer gawd’s sake!



Going in to his shop each day was great. I had the pleasure of using his washing machine to do all our laundry (it’s amazing what small things had become such luxuries for us!), and used his internet connection to catch up with emails. Our friendship with YP made this part of our trip really special, we had a grand time and got to see much more of the country than we normally managed. However, Port Dickson was not really the place we wanted to stop, so we resisted his attempts to keep us here and move on when our week at the marina was up. We wanted very much to get up to the north end of the Peninsular and into Thailand.

Singapore

In Singapore! It was just so amazing to be in Asia at all and we were delighted - I had never imagined that I might come to this part of the world so it was very exciting.

Upon arrival in Singapore, we had to cross these enormous, unbelievably busy shipping lanes full of fast moving gigantic ships, with our hearts in our mouths and one hand hovering over the ignition switch. Having successfully manoeuvred our way across, we then got snarled up in a strong tidal current against us. We put the engine on and motored forward manfully at full steam making only about half a knot for four or five hours, praying the tide would turn as dusk was falling and we were still many miles away from any sort of anchorage. Now desperately low on diesel, I called up the port authority on the VHF to ask about the nearest available access to fuel, and a research vessel that had passed us about an hour ago broke into the call and offered to bring us diesel. This dear man back-tracked for half an hour and we pulled up alongside. His vessel was huge, the sea was a bit rough and we suffered a little damage to the archway at the back of the boat, but he gave us three large jerry cans of diesel – and wouldn’t take payment! Bless his heart.

Singapore

So, finally we made it to Changi Sailing Club on the east coast of Singapore where we picked up a mooring buoy.

This cost S$15 (about £5) per day to hang on a buoy and use all their facilities which were extremely nice – about the best ablution block I’d ever come across, free internet, a good restaurant, bar and swimming pool. They provided taxi boats that fetched and carried us back and forth.

There was a small village nearby which was convenient for small shopping and a cheap bus ride took one into a big centre where they were two large supermarkets, plus every other kind of shop you can think of. Millions of food shops - just everywhere they were selling food, delicious and dead cheap. It was a greedy pig's paradise.

Singapore is very orderly, very sophisticated and very cultivated. It was green and lush and pretty in a park-like fashion. From a distance, from where we were moored, the city looked like a horrific warren of uniform high rise blocks, but when you get there, although it does consist of thousands of uniform looking blocks, it is spacious and well laid out with parks, flowers, fountains, etc. It isn’t desperately charming or quaint, but very clean, neat and tidy. Singaporeans are law abiding citizens; they’d have to be as I think the authorities are quite fierce. There are hefty fines for littering, and we heard that one wit had opened a bar where you not only can but are encouraged to litter as much as you like!

It was also extremely crowded. The people, who all spoke good English, are mostly Chinese and we found them very helpful and friendly, falling over themselves to help out in the street or in shops – all except the Customs agents, all of whom seemed to be bad tempered slobs. We heard that the economy was booming and the government was stable. I never managed to get into central Singapore and am sad to say I never managed a Singapore Sling in Raffles Club. Mike and Lois went to the city and said it wasn’t that fab anyway - hmmmm. We were able to buy very cheap phone cards here and I phoned my sisters a couple of times.

Also on a mooring here were our old friends on Taraipo, the only other boat we knew in Changi. Lois and John were good buddies from the Tauranga days so we all had a good social time. The heavy rains seemed to have set in and we got a bit stuck there for a while, but pleasantly so. Though the club was relatively cheap, it was not cheap by our standards, and money was getting very tight again. Our windfall in Australia had been mostly used by that new prop shaft and was not lasting as well as hoped, even though Lois was always so generous. He had more than paid his fair share of expenses, and was always buying us dinner or lunch. However, at this point he decided that Singapore was probably a better spot to fly back to Spain from rather than Thailand and so we sadly said goodbye to him. He had been a great crew member and good friend. I, in particular, would really miss his presence for the night watches. For our farewell dinner we enjoyed the Confit de Canard given to us by Jean Pierre and Nelly.

Loyola Gonzalez Careaga - he would NOT smile for the camera

Taraipo left a day before us, also heading north.  Lois left by plane the next day, off loading all sort of useful things like his oilskin jacket, some clothes and a nice red suitcase. The following day we checked out and headed for the even more exotic countries of Malaysia and Thailand.

Raffles Lighthouse, on the way out

Here’s the map of our journey from Dili in East Timor to Singapore.  We can add East Timor, Indonesia and Singapore to our list of countries bringing the total to 31, and another 2096 nautical miles, bringing that total to 25590nm.

Indonesia - Bali

Leaving Timor, we sailed north past the island of Alor into the Flores Sea with a current so strong that Forever was moving mainly east although we were pointing north!  There was a lot of rain, thunder and lightning around.  Once through the gap, we headed westwards past a string of islands, including those that are home to the famous Komodo Dragon; Flores and it’s smaller neighbours, Komodo, Rinca and Gili Motang.  We thought of stopping to see the dragons, but decided against it.  The islands of Indonesia are incredibly beautiful, the vegetation is green and lush, backed by towering volcanoes. 

The Flores Sea was busy with many fishing boats of indigenous charm, though, sadly, there was often a lot of litter and debris in the water.

This abandoned raft intrigued us

This leg was slow, hot and windless.  By then, we were late in the season and there was very little useful wind around.  Slow, tedious stuff, but we ‘went to the beach’ frequently.  Lois and I played Scrabble every day and in spite of the fact that English is not his first language, he frequently beat me!  Mike fished diligently but never caught anything.  We played chess, read books, and snoozed, tweaking the sails desperately every time the wind shifted slightly. 

Finding a bit of shade

Towards the end we were running out of diesel and so we just had to drift along, waiting for the occasional fierce thunderstorm, bringing strong winds and torrential rain, followed usually by a decent wind for a few hours that shifted us up a little further before dying off again.  Often the sea was so flat and glassy it was difficult to tell where the water ended and the sky began. 

In desperation, but very reluctantly, we were obliged to do quite a bit of motoring, and though we had not planned to stop in Bali we finally opted to do so to get supplies, water and fuel.

It took us 10 days to travel that 645 miles – a very poor average of 64 miles per day! Arrival at Benoa Harbour was stressful and confusing followed by an unhappy visit to the authorities (in this instance we had to see the Navy) where we were charged for the privilege of stopping on our so called emergency. A full cruising permit for all Indonesian islands would have cost $150 which we could ill afford. Our emergency stop cost US$50, no receipt was issued and we were convinced the Navy man put that $50 straight into his back pocket.  This was supposedly for one day but we ignored that and stayed for four. The shops were a long way off and we had to take a taxi into town, but the the shopping itself was reasonable and we were able to re-stock our provisions. Bali had a rather deserted air; they were still battling with the lack of tourists after the horrible bomb attack earlier that month, killing 26.

Bali Marina

Lois decided that he wanted some time in a marina, so he insisted on paying for a few days.  It was such a pleasure to be in a marina for a change – no worries of the anchor dragging, no rowing to shore, electricity on board, proper showers, etc.  I do like my creature comforts and was most grateful, though Mike, of course, scorned such things.  Unfortunately, they didn’t have a fuel station, and once again water had to be purchased, both drinkable and non drinkable!  Their internet connection was very expensive, but beers and food were cheap.

Inside the yacht club

As Indonesia produces oil one would expect fuel to be cheap, but prices had recently rocketed and they were expecting another increase in January, so hoarding had become a problem.  Purchasing in jerry cans was prohibited and without transport getting fuel proved very difficult for us.  We ended up only getting 30 litres, which a kind South African chap running a cruise ship called the Bali Hai gave Mike, free of charge. 

3 November 2005

Distressingly low on diesel and water, we left Benoa Harbour for Singapore, sailing north up the east coast of Bali with a fabulous current. Once we passed the northern tip of Bali, the current turned around and ran against us but we had wind for a while and sailed pleasantly. Not for long. This miserable 990 mile passage took us 14 and a half days – an average 68 per day. There were many briefly violent thunderstorms around yielding a good bit of rain which we’d frantically collect, and strong winds, not always useful and all too short-lived. These storms produced some amazing sunsets. Sometimes we moved so slowly that Mike and Lois could swim right round Forever on their trips to the beach.


Every morning I would spend some considerable time designing and erecting a sun shade from our various bits of canvas, which then had to be moved every few hours to follow the passage of the sun. This amused the men who were not nearly so bothered by the sun, but I found it debilitating.  My abiding memory of that trip, along with the heat and Scrabble, was egg mayonnaise. We’d bought loads of eggs in Bali and, Lois and I being both mad about freshly made mayonnaise, we ate egg mayonnaise every day for lunch.





East Timor

October 2005

We left Darwin in the second week of October and made reasonable but very on and off progress, the wind eventually determining our destination to be Dili in East Timor rather than Bali. It continued very hot, and during the frequent becalmed moments we would take it in turns to ‘go to the beach’ as Lois called it.

At the Beach

As we rounded the south east coast of East Timor one night (these things always seemed to happen on my watch!) I had a nasty moment when two large ships came into view and then bore down on us.  Each time I altered course one or other of them seemed to do the same thing.  I called them on the VHF radio but they didn’t respond – a fact I interpreted as suspicious.  The radio, of course, awoke my two men folk, who thought I was worrying for nothing, but eventually I think they agreed because Mike put the motor on and we got out of the area. It may have been coincidence that wherever we moved, they seemed to follow, but it was slightly scary for a while.  One is very vulnerable in a small yacht.

Sunrise over Timor

Lois was proving to be the perfect crew, as promised.  He is a very experienced and passionate sailor so we felt totally confident leaving Forever in his care during watches. Although he has a strong and definite personality, he is one of the most remarkably self-effacing people I have ever met.  He fitted in with everything we wanted to do and seemed to take up almost no space at all. He claimed to love the night watches and regularly did much more than his fair share.  I could understand why Jordi and Marina had been so sorry to lose him, but their loss was our gain.

The perfect crew

On 17 October, after a five day sail, we arrived at the anchorage at Dili, the capital of East Timor (officially The Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste), on the north coast.  This mostly Christian country had been war torn since 1975 and was struggling proudly with its independence from the predominantly Muslim half of the island which belongs to Indonesia.  The island is covered with spectacular mountains and the countryside was lovely and green. 

The anchorage at Dili

We had not obtained visas in advance which would have cost us US$30 each, but for US$20 the port authorities gave permission for the captain only to come ashore for one day for repairs. We stayed four days and all went ashore, shopped, and found an internet cafe to catch up with emails. Lois, who was always very generous, took us for dinner in a restaurant, very simple but the best we could find. However, things generally were not cheap, and water had to be purchased – tap water was apparently not potable.  On our second day in the anchorage a heavy rain shower fell and we did our best to get some fresh water into our tanks. The overflow water from the drains in the town flooded into the harbour carrying tons of plastic. Within a couple of hours Forever was surrounded by a sea of plastic bottles. A depressing sight in such an idyllic and remote spot.

The town of Dili was sweet, unsophisticated and very run down with much evidence of their recent war scattered everywhere. The people were nice and friendly but there was not much to do and with the worry of a perhaps overzealous customs agent lurking around we did not linger.



Australia - Gove to Darwin

Gove Peninsula, the town is called Nhulunbuy, was an odd sort of place, and quite unique for us.  It was very ‘outback’ and exactly as such places are depicted in Australian films – hot, dusty, laid back and unhurried.  The land in the area is apparently owned by the Aboriginals and places like the yacht club and the mine lease their land.  Alcan Security, the company that had responded to our radio call on arrival, turned out to be a Bauxite mining concern and the main employer in the area – in fact the town had more or less grown around the mine.  We were intrigued to discover that this bright red rock is processed to make aluminium.  The people in the yacht club were friendly and welcoming to the few yachts out in the bay and offered us free temporary membership, which included the use of their showers and internet. We received good news here of a small financial windfall which we'd not been expecting, and which took the pressure off a little.  Hooray. 

The bar at the yacht club was well frequented by the locals, particularly the Aboriginals, and any rugby or ‘rules’ match usually filled the club.

The anchorage at De Belle Bay

The town itself was a bus ride away, but everything we needed could be found there. It had a good library and we managed to do a good swap of books to take with us. We bought a phone card and called my sisters in London and Mike’s family in New Zealand, but attempts to call Melanie, who only had a mobile phone, were unsuccessful. The weather was pleasantly warm but getting hotter by the day.


On 27 September we did our formal check out of Australia and left Gove heading for Bali in Indonesia. The famous Gugari Rip, or the Hole in the Wall as it is commonly called, is a narrow strait with currents of up to 11knots separating the islands of Raragala and Guluwuru, part of the Wessel Group which stretches up into the Arafura Sea. Not only would sailing through this gap take about 34 miles off our journey, the ‘Hole’ has a reputation as something scary but exciting to experience. Both locals and the other yachties spoke of it with reverence so we decided we should give it a go. As large quantities of water can pass from the Arafura Sea to Donnington Sound at very high speed on a flood tide, a safe transit requires good timing. We checked out the tides, planned it as best we could - and had an easy, unexciting passage with a current of perhaps 3 or 4 knots. Happily.

Approaching the Rip



In the Rip

Leaving the Rip

A boringly slow sail ensued, only 70 to 80 miles per day. The days were hot, sunny and hazy. It could be 80° at 8 am. The Coastwatch plane continued to monitor our progress. The sea was fairly flat, the motion not unpleasant, so we had good appetites. We ran out of fresh meat and fishing was unsuccessful so we had to resort to tins. The nights were dark and starry and our knowledge of constellations increased.



And then ... disaster struck. With little wind we were motoring gently when suddenly there was an awful metallic clattering - it felt like we’d hit a rock, in the middle of the ocean. Mike switched the engine off quickly and investigated, finding the prop shaft had somehow come loose, shaken itself out of position and was now bent (!) How does a thick, solid steel rod get bent? Anyway, we had no engine and couldn’t continue to Indonesia like that so we had to divert and go to Darwin.


There was almost no wind at all now and our progress was painfully hot and slow. Although it would have been shorter, we were concerned about navigating our way through the Van Dieman Gulf without a motor, so we chose to go around Melville and Bathurst Islands. Heading south and passing Bathurst, the wind died altogether and Forever came to a halt - dead in the water - and then actually started to drift backwards with the tide! Keeping a beady eye on the island behind us we considered putting our anchor down but fortunately the tide finally changed and we edged forward again. The Coastwatch plane continued to communicate with us but took little interest in our predicament. At one point we were charmed to hear them speaking to our friends on Taraipo. We couldn’t hear Taraipo but asked the Coastwatch to pass on our regards - I hope they did.


According to our pilot book, the tides around Darwin can reach seven metres. This was worrying news for tidal novices with no motor, particularly as the wind began to strengthen as we drew closer to port. Darwin port authorities were unhelpful and appeared to know neither when high tide would occur nor the height. The last few miles were exhilarating and terrifying with a fierce following wind and strong incoming current, but we managed to manoeuvre our way through various yachts and anchor at Fannie Bay with no more than shredded nerves. We put out lots of chain in anticipation - our depth on arrival that evening was 3 metres which rose to 7.5 metres by morning.


We rowed into Cullen Bay marina the next morning and investigated lifting out and getting a new prop shaft, but the marina was expensive and they wanted us to undergo some complicated and costly process to clean our hull of foreign, disease ridden barnacles. This seemed to us to be excessive since we had last cleaned our hull in New Zealand and had spent and past few months in Australian waters. Further investigation suggested the best (and cheapest) place to go was Sadgroves Quay, situated within the main harbour and up a long creek. With extreme trepidation, we lifted anchor the next morning on the rising tide and navigated our way through the busy Darwin main harbour and then tacked back and forth all the way up Sadgrove Creek. Exhausted, but very pleased with ourselves, we tied up to a buoy outside the marina that evening. That was the best bit of sailing we’d ever done and we laughed about our concerns over Van Dieman’s Gulf, which would have been a doddle!


The staff at Sadgroves Quay were helpful and no mention was made about disinfecting our hull. A new prop shaft was made and fitted, sadly expensive business, but it had to be done.  That more of less took care of our little windfall, and we were thankful it had come when it did.

Mike and Lois

Darwin in October was the most extraordinarily hot and humid spot on the planet.  Living on the hard, never pleasant in any circumstances, was particularly ghastly here as the whole yard was set on concrete. 

A little shade on the hard

We had already checked out at Gove and our visas had expired by the time we arrived in Darwin. Things with Customs were easily resolved and we were given a temporary emergency stay, but the rotten Immigration man got rather sniffy about it and decided we should pay $200 for an extension. We agreed to go and get the money and come back, but just never did. It was almost time to go by then anyway.



Out shopping in Darwin one day, we bumped into our Spanish friend, Lois, whom we had originally met in Tauranga. He was crewing on a yacht that intended to stop and winter in Bali, so when he heard that we were continuing to Singapore and Thailand, he asked if he could come with us. We were delighted, me particularly, as it meant a third person on night watch.  His friends, Jordi and Marina, were very sorry to see him go and assured me that he was 'the perfect crew'.


On 12 October we checked out, gratefully went back into the (relative) coolness of the water and headed north, not entirely sure whether to go to Dili in East Timor or Bali in Indonesia. We thought we’d let the wind make the decision.

Here’s a map of our journey around Australia during which we travelled a further 2114 miles, bringing the grand total to 23494 miles.