Images of limestone cliffs with world-class rock-climbing right on the beach beaconed us. Between the Solomon Islands and the climbing of western peninsular Thailand, lay Papua New Guinea, Australia, Indonesia and Malaysia, and about 4300nm of sailing. For various reasons, we decided to bypass them all and sail direct.
PNG? We already went and did not want to risk getting sick again.
Australia? Too many quarantine regulations that we would be unable to meet, especially having a warm, fuzzy feline on board.
Indonesia? Corrupt government officials are notorious for demanding bribes at every port, and the lengthy visa application requires 2-3 months of advanced planning and costs about $300 US, not counting the cost of bribes. No thanks!
Malaysia? but….Thailand and world-class rock-climbing lies right next door. Why stop?
Before departing we had to provision and to clear out with the authorities in Noro. Our first evening in Noro, Sue awoke with a paranoid feeling that an intruder had come aboard. She got up to investigate and discovered a teenaged boy in the process of boarding Chandrika astern. Despite his dubious intentions, he was quite pleasant and left when told to go away. He told us he was hungry and had come by for some “lollies.” (We had given some candies to a few local children earlier that day. Word sure does get around.) The following night, (the night before our early morning departure), we both awoke to a “thump” on the cabin top. We got up to investigate but found nothing amiss. Before falling back asleep, Sue heard some teens laughing in the distance. In the morning, we discovered the cause of the thump. A large terd, (from a pig perhaps?) lay on our cabin top. Either it had fallen out of the sky, or some mischievous teens had been up to their pranks. Gross! While we loved the Solomons and found most of the locals to be very loving and delightful, we’d had enough. It seemed like at every anchorage, there was someone causing trouble and who had a grudge against us.
Well, we were ready to go. We had stocked up on stale (past expiration date) crackers, weevil-infested flour, limited short-grain rice (due to a shortage on the island), damp wheat cereal and Ramen noodles, the finest that the stores in Noro had to offer. Not wanting to purchase more than we needed because of the low quality, but also not wanting to run out of food on our long passage, we estimated amounts as best we could. We also still had canned foods aboard, like beans, spicy daal, sardines, tuna, tomatoes and peanut butter. We also bought some fresh squash and cucumbers at the market. It would have to do.
Once outside the protected Solomon waters, the sail began with a boisterous beat into the heavy Pacific swell towards the Torres Strait, which lies between the North coast of Australia and the South coast of PNG. Once through the Torres Strait, we enjoyed about 2 weeks of idyllic sailing in the Arafura and Timor Seas. After being in the large swell and rough seas of the Pacific, the moderate seas and slight swell was delightful. A full moon, clear skies, dry air, lots of huge dolphins (or were they some type of whale?), and phosphorescence glistening in the water, added to the beauty of steady trade winds from abaft. Although the wind was light (only 10-15 knots) by our standards, the calmer seas allowed for excellent and fast sailing with the assymetrical spinnaker. Sailing does not get much better.
Our Sailing Companions in the Arafura Sea
Long-distance voyaging may sound like it is full of adventure, which it definitely is at times, but often it is incredibly boring. Our time was filled with lots of reading and various home-improvement projects.
After 26 days, we entered the Lombok Strait between the Indonesian islands of Bali and Lombok. The strait is narrow and shallow and at this time of year a swift current races southwards. We were headed north. With moderate swell opposing the current, the waves stood up straight and steep. Fortunately, we had an excellent 20 knots abeam to help Chandrika battle the contrary current while the waves from behind lifted up her stern and crashed against her transom. We estimated we were moving 6 knots through the water, but the GPS showed we were only making 0.5 knots of speed over ground. Engine alone would not be able to battle this current. Not wanting to lull around in the strait long enough for the wind to die, we fired up the engine (still under sail) to give Chandrika another half knot of push. Wow! That’s strong current! We were glad we were at half moon and did not experience this pass on a spring tide.
Once through the pass, the current subsided and the waves settled down. We were now in Indonesian waters and in Phase II of our voyage. These waters were packed with traffic and obstacles, necessitating a sharp eye while on watch. Both private and commercial fishing vessels, large container ships, ferries, tugs towing barges, and small motor boats, criss-crossed our bow and stern heading in every direction. Despite sailing for 3 years aboard Chandrika, we had hardly seen any other boat traffic since leaving Miami. There were also large offshore oil drilling rigs, fish traps made of 12 foot long floating stacks of bamboo (impossible to see at night), heaps of floating garbage and debris and huge submerged logs that all needed to be avoided.
As we approached the equator, the winds became frustratingly light and our passage agonizingly slow. We layed ahull often, glad for the 0.5-1 knot of current carrying us in the right direction. We used the spinnaker frequently. On one occasion, after a squall had passed through, we were left with lumpy seas and little wind. Not sure if the seas were too rough and the winds too light for the spinnaker, we decided to give it a try. After raising it, we realized right away that it would not work. Reaching for the line to sock the assymetrical, Sue heard a huge tear of fabric. With dread, she turned around to see a large tear running down the entire leech of the spinnaker. The actual leech tape was stuck to a piece of rigging (a tang) on the mast. We would be unable to sock or drop the spinnaker without someone going aloft. “I’ll go get a harness.” The sentence was not even out of Sue’s mouth before Graham had shimmied up the mast to the second spreaders (about 30 feet above the deck with no harness, of course). With the swell, the top of the mast was swaying heavily from side to side. Graham clung on like a monkey while he quickly detached the spinnaker leech from the rigging. Sue pulled down the sock once Graham was back down safely on deck.
We decided to anchor at the nearby island of Bawean for some sail sewing. In addition to the tear in our spinnaker, the sacrificial canvas covering for our jib was starting to detach. We spent two days repairing both sails. The repair of the assymetrical was quite challenging, but once completed, the sail looked as good as new. While we were anchored, we had a torrential downpour, the first rain we had encountered for the entire sail. We were happy to not be sailing in it, and we were even more happy to be able to top off our water supplies.
Full of drinking water and with freshly repaired sails, we set off again. Our food supply, however, was starting to run low. We had plenty of beans and oats, but were running low on rice. We had no Indonesian currency. Not looking forward to another two weeks eating only beans and oats, Graham got an idea. One evening, just as the sun was setting, we floating around with the sails down, waiting for wind. We were only one mile away from a 60 foot long industrial fishing boat, blasting its blindingly-bright fishing lights. We motored closer and dropped the hook. Graham threw the dinghy in the water armed with a diving mask, a few fishing lures, and a switch-blade knife. He discovered that the boat had aboard about 30 fishermen from the Philippines, none of whom spoke English. Using sign language and waving a container of empty rice at the captain of the vessel, he made his message clear. The captain leaned over, grabbed the switch-blade knife, and sent one of his men to the galley for rice. We were given about 5 or 6 kilos of long-grain rice and a freshly caught fish.
Squeak had a delightful passage. Except for the first few days while we were in the Pacific Ocean (before the Torres Strait), the seas were calm. Once inside Indonesia, the seas were dead flat. At times they were as calm as if we were at anchor. He got to snuggle with whoever was not on watch, meaning that he had 24 hours of constant snuggling. On one particularly hot breezeless afternoon, his snuggling was interrupted by a hoard of swallows that descended onto the boat. Hearing their chirping, Squeak hopped up and ran outside. As soon as he made it out on deck, he already had a bird in between his jaws. He’d killed it instantly. Since his prize was no longer moving, and therefore no longer of interest, he passed his attention back to the irresistible, chirping, fluttering flock of swallows. In one swipe he’d broken the neck of a second one, and then a third, and a fourth. Squeak! Stop! Enough! He was running around the deck, bounding, jumping and frolicking, killing one bird after another. The sun was scorching down. There was no wind, and the temp was somewhere in the mid-90s. When we finally managed to corral Squeak down below and away from the birds, we saw that he was hyperventilating, and his entire belly was dripping in sweat. Our snuggling little fur ball had turned into a mad killer, but he was probably having the happiest day of his entire life. 
Squeak waits ready to strike.
Happy Cat
The ITCZ (Inter-tropical Convergence Zone) is a region were the SE trade winds from the Pacific meet with the westerly winds from the Indian Ocean. The region where these winds converge has very light fluky winds and a fair bit of squall activity, making for very difficult sailing. At this point in our journey, we were only averaging from 30 to 50 nautical miles a day. Painfully slow progress. During this time, the ITCZ crossed over us 9 times. It seemed like the horrible sailing winds would never end. Eventually, we reached Singapore. At this point, the wind was still not good, but it definitely improved, as we could now go between 50 and 70 nautical miles a day. Once in the Malacca Strait, we developed a new sailing tactic. The currents through the Malacca Strait are tidal. Half the day, the current would be in our favor sometimes reaching as high as 1-1/2 knots. The remaining half of the day, however, the current would be against us. If there was no wind during this time of day, we would drop a light anchor in about 100 to 200 feet of water to prevent ourselves from drifting backwards. This strategy was very effective for getting through the Malacca Strait. Once outside of the Malacca Strait, we encountered a decent sailing wind which carried us quickly to Phuket, Thailand, 56 days after having left from the Solomon Islands.
Light Wind Sailing
August – September 2010
