India and Durban

11 January 2007

Leaving Langkawi we skipped the Andaman Islands and headed straight for India, an uneventful trip after a couple of scary moments (of the collision sort rather than pirate) with fishing ships off the Thailand coast. The wind was very variable and mild for the first few days, but once we got out of the wind shadow of Thailand’s coast we moved along quite well. There was a lot of phosphorescence in the sea – dolphins look so beautiful swimming and playing in phosphorescent water. Mike caught a good mackerel to eat. The wind behind us became very strong and the sea rather violent. Forever heaved along at her best speed ever - over 150 miles per day which was very good for us, though uncomfortable. There was plenty of rain and big following seas which quite often came into the back of the boat. The decks got very wet and when the gas ran out we couldn’t open the anchor locker as the new teak had swelled up and jammed it. It took Mike some considerable time to eventually get it open and in the meantime I tried to cook on our little picnic gas stove. That was a huge laugh in those seas!

When we rounded the coast of Sri Lanka there were hard winds against us. The sail up the coast to Cochin and our final approach were unpleasant and hard work, fighting off dozens of fishing boats that kept coming alongside and harassing us for stuff. Once or twice big ships came very close, refusing to respond on the radio, scaring the bejeesus out of us. The sea was choppy and I was seasick. Poor old stoic Mike had to get on with it by himself. We were obliged to motor, and then the engine cut out which was very worrying in those waters. It appeared fuel wasn’t getting though, so Mike cleaned the fuel filter, vented the system and the motor worked again. Whew. Hurrah!

With great relief and hugely fatigued we arrived at the anchorage in Cochin harbour on 25 January after 13 days and 1575 miles.

We were anchored next to an Australian yacht Back Chat, and we all went in together for the very long winded but courteous check in process.  India inherited it’s bureaucracy from the British and the paperwork was copious, frequently hand-written, and in many, many carbon copies.

Indian paperwork!

After the paperwork, the customs boat came to visit and managed to ding and splinter our brand new teak toe rail – Mike was livid.  This area was only suitable for check in and yachts were expected to move to an anchorage in the river off the Bolgatty Hotel.  The anchorage was good and safe but also hot and very heavily infested with mosquitoes.  Drinking water had to be collected by jerry can from a garden tap at the Bolgatty Hotel.  Rubbish was taken in to shore by dinghy and just thrown on a large pile of other rubbish, which the very poor (and there were plenty of them) then came and picked over. After a while the authorities would come and burn what was left.  There were families that lived literally on the streets, their only home being a large sort of basket which they paddled about in during the day and then up-ended and slept under at night.

There were quite a few boats and we met some nice people, particularly Jane and Paul on Nicollette III. But we were only there for a few days and then left Forever on the hook in this famously safe anchorage, watched over by Jane and Paul.

We had been invited to Durban, South Africa, for the wedding of my niece Claire. The fare was out of our budget but my ever generous sister, Pai, offered to pay and the timing fitted well with our arrival in India. First, we arranged a flight to Mumbai (Bombay) plus a very dodgy but cheap hotel for the night, and the next day flew to Durban where my sister Lucy lived and we stayed with her. The wedding was excellent, my niece looked radiant and it was grand to see most of my family again who were either living there or had flown out for the occasion. As luck would have it, Mike’s daughter, Melanie, was at school in the Natal area at that time, so we were able to spend one, much too brief, weekend with her. Mike was also able to look up a couple of old friends in Durban.

We stayed in Durban for two weeks and managed to squeeze in a trip to a safari park. It was the most fabulous feeling to be in Africa again. There we were hunting all over the world for somewhere to live and the only place we really ever wanted to be was, and still is, Africa. Everything was just so right – it felt right, it looked right and it smelled right. The warm sunshine, wide open spaces and hospitable, open hearted people, the perfect blue of the sky, scarlet bougainvillea and purple jacaranda; the size of the moon and the brilliance of the stars; the chirruping of a million nocturnal insects, the soft coo of an African dove on a hot afternoon; the incomparable smells of rain on the dusty baked earth, freshly cut grass, and wood smoke, the aromas of boerewors and chicken peri peri on the braai, the intoxicating fragrance of jasmine and deadly nightshade. Our hearts ached with nostalgia. 

But.... the politics and economics of Africa are too unstable and now that we’d left we couldn’t (wouldn’t) consider going back to all that insecurity.

On 15 February we flew back to Mumbai (via Johannesburg where we visited with Mike’s sister), passed another night in that dodgy hotel and spent an interesting day wandering around this amazing over-crowded city.

Rather than fly back to Cochin, we decided to see a bit of the countryside and take a train. We had a friend in Goa so that seemed like a good stop over.

Train travel in India, ordinary class, no air conditioning, is not for the faint hearted and it helps to know the ropes. We got to the station in plenty of time and when the train arrived our attempts to board were thwarted by an official demanding our reservations, which of course we didn’t have. He was most unhelpful and said we’d have to wait until everyone was boarded, but a kindly fellow traveller told us to get ourselves ‘waitlisted’ for a reservation which we did. Eventually, we were permitted to board and the train took off but we had to stand, along with our luggage and other unfortunate ‘unreserved’ passengers, at the end of a carriage near the toilets. At about 2am a railway official turned up and found us two berths, forcing an unlucky, sleepy Indian gentleman out of his bed to accommodate us. It’s also advisable to have your own bedding - we didn’t and had to use items of clothing as pillows and blankets, not very satisfactorily. Indian women travel in their beautiful, cumbersome saris, fully bejewelled, and rise in the morning looking as fresh as daisies. I felt like a limp rag. Our fellow passengers were all very friendly and we ate the food sold on the train, completely clueless as to exactly what it was, but with no ill effects - it’s an interesting concept to have curry for breakfast. Food was served in plastic or polystyrene containers all of which were just chucked out the windows, horribly littering the tracks and surrounding countryside. My attempts to gather up the rubbish were met with surprise and amusement. And the toilets, well, they left a lot to be desired but it’s amazing what you can get used to, especially after a year in Thailand.

Goa was hot and dusty and full of rather posey hippie types. The beaches were beautiful.

Our friend Jane showed us around which made it more interesting for us. Mike and I like to walk and explore but I learned quickly not to go anywhere too far off the beaten track without him as there were roaming packs of half-wild dogs that would snarl and snap. Jane confirmed that they would easily attack a lone person, especially one whose fear was as palpable as mine. Mike is unafraid of such creatures, he’d snarl right back and they kept their distance.

We stayed for three days in an uncomfortable, unhygienic but very cheap room and then took another train to Cochin. The second leg we did partly during the day but the countryside, so close to the coast, was not very interesting. I’d have liked to have spent more time in India. I have known a few charming Indian people and their culture fascinates me, but time was short. To stay any length of time we would have had to stop for another year and Mike wasn’t particularly keen.

Upon our arrival at Cochin we had the remarkable experience of taking a three wheeled tuk tuk taxi from the station. I’m sure our driver was no worse than any other but it was a terrifying trip. He, like every other driver on the road, sat almost constantly on his horn and drove like a lunatic, shouting abuse at other drivers and pedestrians all the way. We were trembling by the time we arrived at the port whereas he had a wide happy grin, immensely pleased with himself. Jane and Paul came in by dinghy and ferried us back to our dear Forever, still bobbing safely at anchor.

Most of the boats making this crossing had already gone, including our friends on Li and Cap d'Or and now we started to prepare for departure. There was a local chap who made it his business to provide various services to the yachts. Other yachts swore by him and it was the most convenient way to get fuel so we bought a few jerry cans from him. Regrettably, I don’t think it was very clean and we would have serious problems later on.

On 24 February we went to the old town of Fort Cochin for the day exploring with Jane and Paul, had a good lunch together and they gave me a pretty camel-bone necklace for my birthday.

Fishing boats at Fort Cochin

On 26 February we left in VHF contact with the yacht Blue Nose, but after a couple of days we lost touch with them, rather oddly, and worried about their safety.  We never did discover what happened but did finally meet up with them again in Aden.