Passage Report 21

Langkawi to Phuket

December, 2008

One of the joys of the sailing lifestyle is meeting up when least expected, with crews from past voyages. Lindsay on Avolare, came aboard after Sahula anchored off Kuah, the main town of Langkawi Island. He was last met in the Goldsmith Islands on the Great Barrier Reef. Since then he's cruised to Hong Kong, the Philippines, and Indonesia. His boat is same Van de Stadt design as Sahula.

A seasoned Asia cruiser, his visit provides a mine of information on Langkawi and Phuket.

It seems myths are fact or fact is a myth. A myth is that Asia is cheap. The Asian Tigers have gained western economies. Boats planning to use haul-out facilities are finding Australian level costs. A fact is that food and fuel remain inexpensive.

A myth is that crystal clear waters abound in fish. Fact is that the waters of Indonesia, western Malaysia and Thailand are fished at an unsustainable level. They are well underway to being oceanic deserts. Waters are rarely crystal clear. Coral reefs are largely destroyed by fish bombing or nets. Plastic pollution is rife. The rivers, seas and oceans exhibit the community sewers. A fact is that the seas and oceans are in dire straits.

Sahula planned to move quickly onto Thailand seeking clear waters. Thailand's inshore waters repeat Malaysia's. Clearer waters await in the islands well offshore away from rivers, streams and cities.

The untrammeled natural oceanic world is receding into almost mythical pockets open only to adventurous yacht cruisers.

Kuah, Langkawi's largest town, supplies most needs yet missing Penang's incessant traffic and noise. Its shops reflect that Langkawi is Malaysia's only duty free region. Amongst yachties it has supplanted Phuket as the restock port. Sahula is anchored off to have Tanya (engine), warranty serviced and to restock. A French engineer, Jean Pierre Dortz, does an excellent service. Tanya is smiling. An extra present is four new batteries. She is ready for India, the Red and Med.

A feature of Kuah is the Pier Bar. A welcoming and pleasant place. It is a magnet for sailors seeking common company. It's a western "island" in a sea of Asia. Beer reflects the world's breweries. Components of its customers are single, Asia-phile males. Refugees from life's travails. They embrace the warm weather. They reject western economies. Their boats, mostly small, reflect their income. Conversation is boating, boating and .... and their Asian nirvana. Travel outside Asia is incomprehensible.

Skipper receives news that a friend and relative has been killed in a fall while climbing Mt Aspiring in NZ. The accident recalls Skipper climbing days in the region and intense sadness for his loved ones. However, while the result is not one anyone would seek, at least in retrospect there would be an adventurer's satisfaction of knowing, that in accepting all the risks of adventure (mountaineering, sailing) a life has been lived to the fullest.

It seems to an outsider, that generally, one part of society here, women, do not lead "life to the fullest." Their religion dictates that every day, hot or cold, their round faces peek out of a head covering and that they wear long clothes. They do so with considerable elegance. Even at the beach, they swim in the same clothes alongside males in togs. It seems to be a male world. In response to a comment that women didn't seem very happy or welcoming, the reply was that women don't engage in casual

eye to eye contact with males. Generally, there is none of the spontaneous smiles and greetings so prevalent in all levels of Indonesian society. It seems to confirm that life there is more in balance and that prosperity and a dominant politico-religion, struggle to provide the full life. A cause for some hope is that the local newspaper evidences the substantial contribution women make in local and state politics. The same newspaper reported a controversy over a fatwa directing the faithful to abstain

from yoga. The role of religion in politics seems to be in evolution.

Obesity is a major issue in this part of the world. If the supermarkets, large or mini, are any guide the solution is obvious. Row on row contains highly packaged "junk" food. Health food seems to be non-existent or costly.

Sahula departs Kuah for the Fjord anchorage and Teluga Harbour on Langkawi Island. Skipper is told that departure can be processed at Teluga. However, the information did not include that officials would be taking a two day public holiday. A lesson learned to cross check information. It is a pleasant if not odd place. Sahula is anchored outside Teluga marina. The marina is another example of a dream gone wrong. At one end are moored huge private, glitzy, "white" ships, at the other a motley array

of international cruising yachts. The newly painted "harbour village" is largely untenanted, the restaurant's deserted and alongside, a half built, too large, European design, multi-story hotel. A cable car (and summit restaurant) climbs the otherwise spectacular mountain backdrop.

Skipper decides that hiring a motor bike is too confronting on busy holiday roads. Nevertheless, wait has its benefits. Sahula is refueled (approx 80cents a litre at Service Station [ not marina)), re-watered and made ready to depart. A bushwalk then swim and peaceful read on a small island beach take up the sunny day.

Early morning finds Sahula finally heading to Thailand. It's a fine day with a moderate NNE'ly. Sahula is in company with Malin (Erling and Kari), a Norwegian yacht. Tanya's retired, sails up and skipper enjoys some of the best sailing since Australia. It only lasts an hour. Skipper has received the superannuation funds annual report. Not good news. Sailing is in, motoring is out. A few tacks and Sahula is anchored off Tarutao Island.

Another day sailing. Mollie (spinnaker) is flying. Wind pumps in, drops, dies then rises in another direction. 100's of fishing buoys play Russian roulette. There are few sea birds and most notably much less plastic pollution.

It's a marine sculpture "park of great beauty. Sahula passes some of nature's most spectacular works. Limestone peaks (karst), rise some hundreds of meters to drop in spectacular cliffs adorned in hanging jungle. Ko Phedra is exhibit one. A knife edge, the "ko" extends half a mile. Sahula's mast almost touches the cliff towering above. Two eagles soar over the tops.

Sahula anchors at Ko Muk to view the "emerald" cave. The entrance is inauspicious. A low oyster encrusted hollow in amongst many apparent caves. It's marked by buoys. Skipper in ANE (dinghy) rowed in. It is 80 metres long. Daylight soon turned to inky blackness amidst much hissing and grumbling from seawater surging through the cave.. It was not for the faint hearted. A torch revealed the tall roof lined with bats, stalactites and limestone curtains. Light was gratefully seen which soon revealed

a perfect beach surrounded by sky soaring cliffs adorned in hanging jungle. It was indeed an inner world, a hidden emerald garden.

This jewel has been used by locals for taking the swallow nests. As well pirates hid their loot. Now tourists have replaced the swallows. Skipper, alone, reveled in the silent beauty.. Not for long, the beach shows that tides would cover the cave. It is a rising tide. ANE gets lost. Ahead is a cave beach with waves breaking seemingly huge in the reverberating noise. Soon the entrance is found. Relief is palpable. .

Sahula sails for Phi Phi Don. The propeller crunches a fishing buoy's line. Tanya is stopped, all sail is taken in. Skipper dives down to inspect the propeller. All is well.

Phi Phi Don is a key tourist hub. It is strikingly beautiful anchorage. "The Beach" was filmed on nearby Phi Phi Le. Skipper meets Jay and Jodie (Makani Kai) and Brian and Brenda (Galiano) for a meal ashore and is confronted by surging, noisy streets of gaudy restaurants, shops, internet cafes, hotels, bars and clubs, populated by young Europeans. By day, an armada of "long tails" (a colourful, traditional fishing boat with a noisy, diesel engine, mounted astern, above deck, attached to a long propeller

shaft.) ply the strait to Phi Phi Le to view the film site. The experience of traditional Thailand is a Thai waiter.

Phi Phi Don suffered great loss of life and property in the 2004 Tsunami. Only local memory and a monument (out of sight and out of town) remain. Everything is focused on the economics of tourism.

Skipper goes ashore next day to re-stock. Thai staff are uncharacteristically unwelcoming, probably the impact of serving thousands of youthful Europeans.

Sahula motors across to Phi Phi Li island. A strikingly beautiful natural sculpture, its towering limestone cliffs hold huge caves and are separated by deep gorges. Sahula takes aboard a buoy in a cliff surrounded bay with a white beach. It was site of the Leonardo Di Capiro, film "The Beach." By day it's seething with Phi Phi Don's tourists. Sahula stays overnight. Skipper enjoys a snorkel, diving through an underwater arch behind the boat. Evening peace is savoured sipping a wine to a setting red

orb.

To a morning, moderate NE'ly; Skipper casts off, mainsail up, headsails drawing, Sahula lopes over calm seas to Ao Chalong, the anchorage for Phuket. The yellow quarantine flag below the red, white and blue, Thai flag marks the end of Stage 2 (Stage 1, Australia-Singapore) of Sahula's global adventures. Sahula will now enjoy the many islands of Phang-Nga Bay and Xmas before crew joins on the 31st December for the ocean passage to India in early January, 2009.

David

Sv Sahula,

Phuket,

Thailand

16th December, 2008

Passage Report 20

Singapore to Malaysia

Synonymous with culture shock is Singapore. Across the teeming ships plying their special lanes, out of the murk, rises the Singapore's high rise. Symbols of the economic success story or precursors to human madness. It is hard not to feel the latter when exiting by yacht from Indonesia.

Today it is in the distance. Sahula is entering Malaysia, heading to the Sebana Golf Resort and Marina. The marina is located past the mass anchored ships, on a winding river in the jungles of Johor. It's culturally a long way from Indonesia.

Its set alongside a manicured golf course, harbours a crystal blue swimming pool and berths in calm waters. It's the ideal place to stop, rest and gather the threads in readiness to confront its city neighbour. Staff are friendly and efficient. Noticeably, immigration and vessel entry is a five minute affair; and free.

Sahula is among friends. She's berthed alongside Catala, crew and good friends; Garth and Janine. Many of the fleet seek similar refuge. All adhere to the maxim, "cruising is doing maintenance in beautiful places."

On Sahula, the list seems endless. Tanya needs a warranty service; deck needs painting and a myriad of small things need attention.

The attention has to be shared with daily rain and thunder as the monsoon passes overhead.

Days pass with tasks aboard running sweat in hot muggy days to luxuriating in the clear blue poor. It's a 12 hour sauna.

A visit to Singapore erases any doubts about big city life. The trains (MRT) and buses spirit milling millions to a multitude of destinations. Shopping is a core activity in an amazing array of small businesses. They're housed in skyscrapers peering above

a freeway tangle. The clinical cleanliness and oily efficiency of a city orientated to do business, is remote, even cold.

A day is enough. The new crew, Chris flies in from Adelaide. She joins skipper in returning to the sanctuary of Sahula for a three week vacation sailing the Malacca Strait and the west coast of Malaysia.

Finally, the magnetic comfort of marina life is broken; Sahula departs Sebana for the west coast and Malacca.. It is good to be under way again.

Before the west coast, Sahula had to pass Singapore's massed skyscrapers and merchant fleet. It seems half the world's ships are anchored or in the port.

Kupuk village provided the first nights anchorage. It's built on stilts over the water, home to fisher families, whose men folk ply the shallow waters in traditional long boats. They cheerfully wave as Sahula enters the harbour.

Brash, ultra modern Singapore lines the horizon.

Once again fishing buoys and nets are an obstacle to navigation.

Word goes out that renewed vigour from pirates threatens coastal passages.

Sahula leaves Kupuk in rain, wind and threatening lightening. Lightening strike is a major concern. Steel boats are reputed to be better protected but a direct strike could take out all electronic and electrical equipment.

The long hot day lengthens into an overnight passage: motor sailing in fine weather, few fishing boats, nets, buoys and not a whiff of pirates. Sahula stays well out of the mega-fleet plying the Malacca Straits.

Admirals Marina beckons nearby Port Dickson. It's another Malaysian mega- resort, encircled by high-rise (empty) apartments. Overdevelopment seems to be a mark of Malaysian progress.

Skipper and crew plan a two day excursion to Malacca.

Malacca is blessed with an ancient history and culture recognized in its World Heritage listing.. It's thrived since pre-European colonization. A trading port since time immemorial. A visitor can reflect upon the waves of invading, Portuguese, Dutch and English armadas and armies. Before them, the great trading fleets of Chinese Admiral Cheng Ho who in 1421 sailed to establish trading links in Africa, Middle East, and Asia. There is evidence his fleet also reached America, Europe and South America.

His fleet comprised 200 odd ships, some of 500 tonnes, manned by 27,000 crew. He spearheaded a Chinese hegemony based upon trade and Confucian principles of goodwill, peace and harmony. One ponders what a different world it would have been if soon after his return, China had not withdrawn behind "closed doors," allowing European dominance. His exploits are recalled in the Cheng Ho Museum, a superb tribute to his travels.

Strangely, while there is a Malacca River its mouth is too shallow so ships anchored off in a roadstead are serviced by barges.

The return trip detoured to Sri Menenti, a royal city located in the mountains of Negeri province. The Royal Palace is a large imposing wooden traditional building set in gardens. It was built without nails. It's now a museum as the Sultan is no longer in residence.

Another day of no wind after Admirals Marina. Sahula passes a coastline pitted with the wharves, industry and tourism's high rise on her way north to Kuala Lumpur's huge Port Klang. It seethes with shipping, containers and anchored vessels.

Remarkably, Sahula passes by two beautiful, three mast, square riggers at anchor, both registered in Port Klang.

Again a day of no wind. Sahula sights no pirates, few fishing boats, and much massed shipping. Large logs pose the only threat to navigation. Society's flotsam and jetsam floats by in an endless stream. The pollution is more evident than in Indonesian waters.

Reports say at Port Klang yacht club the rubbish included dead bodies: one human another, a cat. It seems Malaysian seas reflect the degradation of the land.

Tanya (engine) drives on in calm, oily seas to Pangkor Island near Lumut. The anchorage is a sign of good things to come. White beaches and blue milky water, line jungle clad hills.

Pangkor Island's god is tourism. Resorts "litter" the white beaches. Leisure, long regarded as western concept is no more. In Malaysia, resorts, high rise apartments and restaurants on every beach bare witness to the rising tide of "prosperity" and leisure time.

Skipper and crew hire two motor bikes to tour the island.

It's ever onward to Penang.. Sahula departs Pangkor in rain and squalls. Wind shifts, motor sailing and shallow water mark a normal days sailing in Malaysian west coast waters.

Sahula arrives, in the evening light, passes under the spectacular Penang bridge and berths at Tanjong Marina alongside historic Georgetown, Penang. It's next door to a large ferry terminal. Sahula "enjoys" a night of continual movement in the "calm" of the marina The marina has no seawall to protect it the wake of passing car ferries.

Sahula's crew disembarks to feed the Adelaide mortgage. Skipper returns to solo status.

Georgetown, Penang is a World Heritage listed old trading port set up by the British in the 1700's. The town is similar to Malacca but much busier with cars and motorbikes careening through the narrow streets. High rise threatens the listing. Chinatown and Little India are bustling, noisy sub-cultures bristling with restaurants and small businesses. Skipper tours a historic Chinese tycoon's house now a museum for invaluable Asian antiques, furniture, glass ware, pottery, intricate carvings and needlework.

The western claim to a superior culture is laid bare.

An agent arranges for a Thai visa for Skipper. If obtained outside Thailand it is for two months and extendable.. If given on arrival it is only four weeks and not extendable. Bureaucracies work in wonderful and mysterious ways.

Skipper enjoys a traditional Chinese fish restaurant with Gus and Gabby (Pampero) and next evening, with Thomas and his crew (Nahda Brahma). The variety of plates beggars the imagination. A later walk through Little India is an ear battering cacophony of the sounds and colours of the mother country.

Skipper enjoys a long overdue chat to family and friends. The world is a small place.

Penang's city and beaches, a forest of high rise, fade into the distance. It is good to be at sea again bound for Langkawi. It is a sea churned by a 20-25 knot, NE monsoon. Tanya pushes through in another frustrating day of motor sailing.

There are rewards. Sahula is amongst the Langkawi islands. Steep jungle clad limestone peaks drop steeply in colourful cliffs that end in eroded caves in an azure blue sea. Sahula anchors in the "fjord,"under a huge cliff, jungle tumbles down, monkeys fossick on the beach, colourful birds shriek by, eagles soar amongst the peaks. All is calm in utopia.

A day passes with friends. We motor to visit Maidens Lake, reputed to restore a maiden's fertility. A freshwater swim in the inland lake formed after a massive limestone cave collapsed in ancient times. We do so with massed tourists. Afterwards we explore limestone sea caves finding stalactites, calcium curtains and resting bat colonies.

Next day, skipper, inspired by the beauty of the islands does some painting. Life is good.

Sahula now waits for Tanya to have her warranty service. After the service, Thailand beckons with similar islands and crystal clear water.

David

Sv Sahula

29th Nov., 2008

Passage Report 19

Kumai to Belitung to Singapore

After three months and 12 ports at as many islands, the Rally is officially coming to its conclusion. Belitung is the last reception, the final Regents dinner. It is also the last time the Fleet congregate. Singapore will see them in various marinas then being on the Sail Malaysia Rally or voyaging to various Asian ports.

Sahula is "racing" to be there. The trip entails two nights sailing through the Java Sea and Karimata Strait. The Strait is a busy shipping channel. Skipper is solo so Richard and Gloria on "Aquarius" are standing 'watch" to ensure sleep is possible. Skipper managed two hours, a record aboard.

Tanya is doing her job as the wind is still to arrive. It's a hot, oily Java Sea.

After some 12 official "Regents" dinners the last one will be special. The dinners have been a highlight of the Rally. They follow a general format.

If the venue is a Sultan's palace or traditional meeting hall or place, then there is a traditional entrance ceremony. This is by male dancers often swirling swords which end in cutting a gate built of bamboo and palm fronds. The guests then file in to be welcomed personally by the Regent, Sultan or dignitary.

Then after being seated the dancers and a traditional orchestra provide entertainment. The dances can continue for an hour or so. The dancers, young ladies and males in elaborate, colourful, traditional dress of the region, are enthralling. It is a unique benefit of the Rally that so many dancers from so many regions have been enjoyed by the Fleet. Skipper has only missed one.

At some point the Regent and other dignitaries will arrive. The entertainment then continues until the Regent's speech of welcome. This can be a rather long, political affair usually in baharsi but often in English as well or by an interpreter. A nice characteristic of official speeches is to apologise for any mistakes. It's a "safety valve." A representative of the Fleet then responds. Skipper has made a number of response speeches.

Then the dancing may continue or the dinner commences or both. Dinner is from many different dishes; all delicious. At some point the dancers invite the guests to join in the dancing. It is usually to the great hilarity of the locals. If the dinner venue is open air then it's quickly surrounded by crowds of curious locals.

After the traditional dancing the music is western "pop" so the guests dance the night away. The locals join in. It's all great fun.

The dinner is funded by the local Regency government. It's seen as a tourism marketing exercise.

The Belitung Regency reception and dinner is a superb finale. A highlight of the receptions is the dancing. It would not be possible to experience so many traditional dances of peoples across Indonesia without the Rally receptions.

There is a ripple through the fleet. The Turkish solo sailor, Oskan is diagnosed with typhoid. A death sentence to the "westerners" but to the locals no more than a health problem among many. Fortunately, the medical centre and doctor are excellent. Three days on medication and recovery is almost complete. Sahula opts to escort Oskan on his yacht, "Kayitsiz III" to Singapore.

So skipper has three extra days to enjoy beautiful Belitung. The anchorage at Kelayang is almost idyllic: clear water, white sandy beaches lined with palms and tropical jungle. Days pass snorkeling, reading, painting and meals ashore.

It's goodbye to Raymond and Dewi, the founders and organisers of the Rally. Skipper looks forward to meeting again in Bali, their home island. We're the last yachts here so they can now celebrate another Rally passing and a job well done.

It's goodbye to the Indonesian people. Their ready smiles, honesty, assistance and the "hey mister" of beautiful happy children, leaves an indelible memory.

Skipper is left to ponder why Australia isn't Indonesia's closest friend.

All Indonesian children learn English in junior school. Surely, a reciprocal "learn Baharsi," would open Australian's hearts to the joys and peoples of Indonesia.

Politics and reality seem eons apart.

There is hope. It is no surprise that Sail Indonesia 2009 already has some 200 inquiries (of which only 120 can participate).

The IndoNet (held every morning on HF radio, to sign in and swap information between Rally yachts) reports yachts colliding with logs and fishing nets while Singapore bound, so Sahula opts for day sailing only. It is a case of the best laid plans.....

Sahula then motored to Gaspar Island, careful to have day's sails so Oskan could rest. The gods didn't agree: next day blew 30 knots, rain and steep shallow water seas. Sahula and Kayitsiz III returned to Belitung's calm waters. Kayitsiz III's motor and VHF radio needed repairs. The boat has no GPS (satellite positioning system), log or depth sounder. Oskan wishes to emulate Captain Cook even though he had the latter two. His re-entry, through reefs, to Belitung was an exercise in high risk. The gods were smiling.

.

Skipper is now illegal in port and probably will be illegal in Indonesian waters before Singapore. Sahula has four days to clear Indonesia.

The gods are scowling. Oskan's motor has again broken down delaying departure. Finally it's ready and we motor north, in calm conditions, into the nights inky blackness. We have two nights at sea before we anchor at Lingga Island. Lightening regularly lights the horizon.

Next morning, more black rain cells batter Sahula. Winds are 25-34 knots with steep seas. Kayitsiz III's disappears in the rain driven murk and fails to make radio contact.

Later, calm seas return. Nothing is heard or seen of Kayitsiz III.

Sahula has a second night motoring into the South China Sea. It's a major shipping route to the Pacific and Asia as well as littered with poorly lit, local fishing boats.

Skipper finds sleep in 20 minute intervals set on an oven timer. Coastal solo sailing is not for the feint hearted. Radar (with an alarm) and GPS are essential to the stress level.

Sahula sails into Lingga Island anchorage late on the third day. A meal and the skipper sinks into much needed sleep.

Morning hails "Kayitsiz III" again in contact on VHF.

We cross the equator on an oily South China Sea. The second crossing for "Kayitsiz III." A first for Sahula. The second will be in the Pacific enroute to Patagonia, years and many adventures hence. We celebrate at Mesdnak Island.

Fishing boats speed past. A sailor could know the vessels location solely by knowing the traditional design of the local fishing boats. Boats here have a long prow quite unlike others seen.

Sahula is anchored off Batu Besar on Batam Island having passed through the Riau Strait separating Batam and Bintan Islands... Jet airliners fly overhead, factories line the shore, huge ships fill the Singapore Straits. It is a long way from Alor's picturesque fjord or from Lombata, Flores, Lombok, Bali, Kalimun Java, Kumai or Belitung... This is the new or future Indonesia, where industry flexes its strength providing for the teeming millions aspiring to western lifestyles.

Its test is whether the culture, the lifestyle balance, the smiles and family life of the "other" Indonesia can survive in the "new" or wants to?

Kayitsiz III and Sahula enjoy sundowners recounting the Rally's three marvelous months in the "other."

Tomorrow Sahula crosses the 12 nm of the Singapore Straits to Malaysia's Sabana Cove Marina. New adventures begin.

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Passage Report #18

Karimun Java to Kumai River

Nothing before prepares the traveler for Java. Least of all, Karimun Java, a set of island jewels off its sister's coast. The harbour master is guardian of Sahula while skipper and 30 other sailors enjoy a four day tour of Java.

By fast ferry and then bus we arrive at Semarang. The contrast is immediate. Traffic teems upon the roads and does so all the way to Yogyakarta. We travel in continual urban sprawl along what must surely be the longest strip development on earth. Towns, cities or villages are unidentifiable. The rice fields peep through.

Javanese are on holiday. It is "idul fiftri", the end of Ramadan, time to visit family. Families are in cars and massed motorbikes. The bus is at crawling pace. Families of two children on their bike, perilously thread the traffic. Life is cheap on the highway.

80% of Indonesia's population of 220 million, live in Java, most are Moslem. Given the lithe (and elegant) stature of Indonesians to date the influence is clearly visible of MacDonalds, Kentucky Fried amongst other western contributions of economic prosperity. Supermarkets stock poor quality, over sweetened foods. A mark of family economic success seems to be obese children.

Allah is great - across the villages and cities, all night, the cacophony of reverence reaches out to the faithful. Skipper is a guest of a village family in Tembi. A hard mattress and pillow on the floor, toilet a two step, water a scoop. It is a life of the basics, yet entirely adequate blessed with heartfelt hospitality. Our hosts provide a lovely meal, then breakfast. Morning dawns across fogged paddies, Allah reverberates from the many mosques, our hosts tends his three fine fighting cocks and pidgeons. It is Java in the raw.

From everyday village life to the ancient (600-700 AD) Borobudur and Prambanan temples. World Heritage sites to an illustrious Hindu - Buddhist culture. Their intricate, massive construction did not appease the gods. Earthquakes and volcanic eruptions forced their abandonment and their partial destruction till their rediscovery and rebuilding in the 1800 - 1900's. Rebuilding continues in 2006, due to an earthquake leveling the earlier (1980-1990's) rebuilding. Brick for brick, block for block these massive edifices have been and are, rebuilt and strengthened - a spectacular feat.

Their notoriety attracts the seething masses. Skipper and Thomas off the beaten track find a temple, remote and quiet. Its inner sanctum is reborn, resonating to an ancient Hindu chant beautifully done in a deep timbre by Thomas. It is a moment to remember.

The sailors are invited to dine at the Sultan of Solo's palace. Finery adorned (skipper in his batik shirt), a welcome by lady of the Royal family, entertainment by superb dancers, a palace tour and a beautiful dinner. The palace is a magnificent wooden structure, filled with furniture and artifacts. An elephant trunk, its ivory intricately carved in three dimensions, a present of another monarch.

A hotel, a traffic laden highway, a ferry and we return to beautiful Karimun Java. No one doubts their sailor lifestyle. We have seen the other side.

Sahula's new crew, Constantine, a young Bahasi speaking (8 years living in Java), German engineer, is aboard to Kalimantan. We overnight sail to arrive in the Kumai River and navigate to the anchorage in inky black. Next day the world of "Lord Jim," darkest green jungle borders the brown river. Kumai, 15 nm upstream is a busy mining and timber port. It's dominated by blank multi-story buildings which are revealed as home to small starlings. The bird's nests are sold on the Chinese market.

A day of contrasts. We receive a traditional welcome to the Dayak (ex head hunters) meeting house, then board fast traditional river "taxi" boats for a race set to the cheers of a river lined with waving locals. The race is on Kalimantan's "Venice", a waterway lined with stilt houses set out over the swift flowing waters.

A highlight is a visit to Yayorin Orangutan Indonesia, a non-government organization (NGO) that harnesses young Indonesians keen to save the orangutans' jungle habitat. Every minute a football field is lost to clearing. Yayorin encourages dialogue that seeks to encourage the villagers who own the jungle to refuse purchase offers from timber clearers (for timber and palm oil plantations) and consider their own and the forests future. They are having success albeit slowly.

In the evening the fleet are traditionally welcomed to the Sultan's Yellow Palace by sword swirling males and beautiful ladies all dancing to an amazing traditional band. The ladies (5, all sisters) and band are enthusiastic high school students. Later they again, over dinner, entertain in the presence of the Regent and Sultan. It is a night to remember. Skipper makes the speech of thanks and presents the Regent with a small Sail Indonesia token.

Skipper meets his ancestors. A tour operator has organized a traditional kiloton boat with three crew (captain, cook and guide) for a one night, two day, cruise into the Tan Jung Putting National Park - home to endangered orangutans. Skipper is with Richard, Barry (Lady in White) and Constantine. A guards come aboard to secure the yachts.

A klotok (motor clacking) makes few concessions to westerners. Its internal deckhead is stoop height. The loo is an open box on the stern. Sleeping is on the open deck on thin mattresses under mosquito nets. It is entirely adequate as is the food.

Down the Kumai, into the Sekonyer lined with palms and pandanus, its brown waters polluted by upriver illegal gold mining. We sight orangutan in the wild. Into a tributary coloured deep black-red by a rich "tea" of thick jungle tannin.

Camp Leakey, established in 1971 to rescue orangutans orphaned by hunters and timber getters, remains today a research centre and orangutan information centre and viewing site. They look bemused at the milling tourist's cameras recording their every move.

Orangutans "ape" (sic) the same life cycle as humans. They live to some seventy years, birth is after eight months, young are mother dependent for some eight years.

A BBC documentary records the Head of National Parks atop a pile of newly cut "national park" export logs. Clearing and mining continue today in the Park. Saving their habitat seems an almost impossible task.

The klotok is moored to the river forest. Above high in the canopy are proboscis (long nose) monkey families taking the evening air. Dinner's is to an audio visual of the living forest.

Morning's symphony over a misty canopy welcomes breakfast and jungle walk.

Life on Sahula has a different perspective; a sense that existence is out of balance with nature.

Sahula catches the river current into the Java Sea. It is three days to Belitung Island, the last Rally port before Singapore.

David

Sv Sahula

Passage report 17

Sahula Passage Report No. 17

Bali

Wonderful Bali, so different. Its culture so pervasive, that it seems almost disconnected to its neighbours. The beat of Balinese Hinduism permeates every nook, field, home, industry, road or beach. A shrine - incense, frangipani, a donation is refreshed daily. Small industries provide intricate carvings in stone or wood evidenced in all buildings, temples and walls. Shiva, Brahma, Vishnu and an array of lesser gods, beam or frown down on passers by. Balinese Hinduism adds to its Indian roots, a

supreme god, Sanghyang Widi (interestingly not represented in visual form). Islam's robust Ramadan chants break the night air but rest in contextual irrelevancy. Other religions seem barren in comparison.

Skipper hires a scooter/motorbike to tour (with friends on other bikes) nearby Sringaraja, the old capital of Bali. The gods are reassuring. Survival heightens the sense, raises the stress level. A temple visit provides extra credit. Skipper thankfully pays the "fees" - for the ...., the temple head and a "little for me" - the temple guardian.

It is much needed preparation for two days scooter-ing to Ubud, southern Bali.

A delicious Regent's evening welcome dinner sets the scene.

Sunset over Lovina beach is alive with gods, dancing the dances - "mask" and "joged" in gold washed silk. Children scatter as the clown dancer in bug-eyed mask, approaches. Beautiful ladies in golden dress, crown and necklaces, move in utmost grace to gamlen and drums against a setting sky and sea. Skipper entertains the locals to a Joged dance

guided by a gold adorned, intricately colourful, Balinese beauty.

Every Balinese child learns traditional dancing and Balinese language from the earliest age. Every Friday is speak only Balinese day.

Skipper (with Thomas of "Nadha Brahma," German) hires two scooters for a two day odyssey. The intent is to see the Bali of daily village life. Roads are off the beaten track. Sometimes, wide, then two cement tracks, then one, then dirt to encouragement from amazed farmers in rice fields that it all leads somewhere.

Hindu festivals abound - a temple celebrates women, we are welcomed as the only males, inside a riot of colour, a temple adorned in gold, yellow, incense and food offerings. Another is being prepared for a celebration. How could the gods not be satisfied?

We are welcomed by the full spectrum of a community busily engaged in making large golden towers, sacrificial bulls, horses and masks all to be adorned in intricate colourful decorations.

Temples seem to outnumber houses until we observe there is a village temple for different gods and home temples for daily use, often of equal beauty. A village temple was in use by the women or for other special occasions.

We observe the skilful carvers of temples intricate "stone" carving using knives in mix of soft crushed volcanic black ash which later dries hard. The task so huge that their commission is a part, more is done by another small business.

Timber yards piled high with freshly logs, host wood carvers of statues or designs for the temples, local, tourist and export market. Each yard has a particular motif.

We are beset with the aromas. A reminder of the spice islands. Especially drying cloves being harvested from trees by pickers on long bamboo poles.

We pass tourism's ugly face a Lake Batur. Lines of restaurants hassling for the dollar. The caldera provides superb views over the volcanic lake and Mt Abang, a recently formed volcano, centered in the caldera.

The scooters are blessed (for a fee) with sprinkles on the drivers of holy water, and a bamboo creation on the bike.

We visit the ancient palace at Klung Kung and enter the creative region centered on Ubud. We look lost; "where shall we stay?"; immediately a local offers assistance and guides us to Ben's Home stay. Ben and his family, fowls and dogs live in a family town block. It is typical home. Beautiful temple and home buildings in a lovely walled garden. Guests rooms are modern, including a hot shower (skipper is in bliss) and breakfast ($15 per night). It is a short walk to Ubud's many attractions including

nearby rice terraces in verdant green countryside.

Every now and then, one finds a place, so uplifting, so enlightening, that all the senses converge - Ubud is the core of a land blessed with humans, religion, environment, art and culture, in a unique balance. Here artistic endeavour expresses itself through painting, carving, dance, music, voice and architecture, revealing the pulse of Hindu religious belief and daily life.. It's a living culture far from the maddening crowd in a crowded land.

Our hosts expected our return. Ubud in one day is impossible except to the culturally inert.

At night, a myriad of temple dances or at "wayang" - the shadow puppets. Wayang provides traditional village "movies." Hindu stories and drama are told with puppet illustration through a fire lit screen stretched tight by a banana trunk. Production is by a team of three puppeteers and a 5 piece gamalen and drum band.

Dancers perform in an old palace of lotus ponds. Beautifully illuminated surrounding enhance the dancers superb performance.

The city fathers and families have ensured the art of Ubud, its region and Indonesia, is found in some five museums to art and Balinese culture. "Museum" cannot describe these places. Beautiful buildings stand in peaceful gardens, in tandem with music and dance, housing Balinese arts best, expressed through local and foreign artists. It is a coming together of the visual, aural, and intellectual.

Antonio Blanco, a Spanish "fauve" and student of Dali, captures in his "museum," Balinese women in vibrant works of humour, joy and eroticism. Arie Smit, a German Indonesian "fauve," bridges the void between western and Balinese art in expressionist works of vibrant colours. Walter Spies, Rudolf Bonnet, Theo Mier, Paul Husner and a host of superb local artists express beautiful Bali in colour and the traditional intricacy of mythology and village life. Traditional art by local artists is, in Bali,

modern. A single work can take years to draft, more to paint. Oddly, traditional art dates from late 1800's, but most is early 1900's to date. The skipper is in seventh sensual heaven.

Ubud reveals the cultural core, the region feeds into it. In surrounding villages, communities busily paint, sculpt and carve for the market (local and export) or for their local temple ceremonies. Visits are welcomed by smiling, helpful artisans.

On the third day, the scooters left for Lovina, through mountains, steeped in tiered rice paddies. The irrigations engineering for these paddies beggars the imagination.

If daily devotions provide for the after life, it is wise to not return as a dog or a chicken. Their hapless life is one of feel-less starvation, cock fighting or just dinner. There is no RSCPA in Bali.

Skipper has mixed feelings; leaving Bali's magnetism is on basis "I shall return."

Sahula leaves at dawn for Krimon Java via Ras and Bawean islands requiring two solo night sails. The five volcanoes of Bali slowly recede to smokey blue.

A fishers small Hindu shrine, floating miles offshore, wind caught in its incense and yellow umbrella, gives the final farewell.

Night sailing is not for the faint hearted. The heavily built fishing platforms and bouys provide Russian roulette. A collision would damage a modern light yacht. Sahula's steel is comforting.

A challenge; arrival at Ras is in evenings pitch black. The comforting tones of Anne of "Hydrasail" and digital charts (most unwise) guide Sahula slowly to anchor.

Ras to Bawean finds an evening breeze. Mollie (spinnaker, MPS) drives Sahula to the morning anchorage. Close by a traditional fishing boat cheers on Sahula and Mollie. The sailors admiration is mutual. Their boat is painted in resplendent colours, a superb craft, almost indistinguishable from a Viking ship. The variety of Indonesian traditional boats is limited only by the builders imagination and the painters brush.

A giant oil platform service tug passes at speed heading to Broome. Skipper, hopefully, inquires, to a negative answer, if friend, Drew Thompson is master.

The morning finds anchorage at Bawean Island. Solace for a tired skipper. A day of rest for tomorrow its 24 hours overnight to the Krimon Java islands. Skipper will there take a four tour of Java and the World Heritage Borobudur temples. Did, skipper hear mention of a hot shower every night?

These are new adventures for a later report.

Best

David

Sv Sahula

Passage Report 16

Komodo to Bali

Recipe for a quiet Komodo dragon life - a-la Sahula - first, increase skipper's stress level (low base) - by frequently ensuring depth sounder leaps 50 m to 8 m in a second - add current turmoil - baste with a headwind - season with chagrin ie a local boat undeterred by "charted" reefs well over to port - improve flavour by not relying on MaxSea digital charts - resolve by using eyes and a prayer.

Sahula is deep in Komodo land. A World Heritage area, Bio-Sphere Reserve and National Park, it is one of the few Indonesian marine protected areas. A jewel in the crown.

The entry port is Labaun Bajo. A picturesque town that in a western nation would be a major economic tourism hub. It is, but on Indonesian terms. Dive offices, restaurants and local hotels, mix with traditional stalls, shops, hooting bemo's and massed motorbikes. Further out, the tourist resort beach mixes poverty with deserted multi-storied concrete monoliths.

Tourists access to the islands (Komodo, Rinco and Padar) is not by a glitzy marine machine, but a traditional wooden "clacking" launch, owned by a local "sailor". The only "bell" is a new paint. The only "whistle" is a plastic chair. A tourist, with a spare two hours, eventually in "air conditioned" comfort, arrives at Rinca Island. An alternative is chartering a large converted wooden "Bugis." A magnificent "luxury" (a relative thing) traditional two masted sailing ship. At Rinca, the National Parks provide guides and charge entry fees to view the Komodo dragons and their environment.

Sahula visited them on Rinca Island. The "dragons" are very large lizards. They look prehistoric but apparently are of relatively recent origin. They become inert under the midday sun. So all activity is early. An amorous male, undeterred by gorking tourists leapt on a smaller female for one and half hours of seemingly loveless "action." Cameras went into overdrive. She went to sleep. A guided walk saw six Komodo "children" taking their share of a much depleted water buffalo carcass, while monkeys, pigs and horses "played nearby. The scenery is spectacular. Ancient volcanic hills surrounded by a deep blue sea, support palm studded grassy brown savanna. It is a scene unique in Indonesia.

Komodo marketing highlights snorkeling and diving. Sahula teamed with "Catala" (Garth and Janine, NZ) to snorkel off nearby islands. Again the marine environment evidenced anchor damaged and dead coral with few fish. That evening skipper enjoyed sundowners but not to the expected flights of expected large bats. Bats don't heed marketing.

Lehok Ginggo, deep in Komodo land. No villages or guides here. Skipper, dragon "hunting," walks (with Garth, "Catala") the valley behind the beach. None is sighted till investigating a nest bed, Skipper is one step from standing on a well camouflaged "Madam." Both are not sure who moved quickest. Skipper's stress level rose a notch. A bite is sufficient to ensure that the 30 odd, toxic bacteria in the Dragon's mouth, kill a buffalo.

Skipper is "Indonesian" brown - the equator sailor - sailing swimming, snorkeling Komodo reefs and bays - notwithstanding white "captains" shirt, bush hat, pink is impossible.

Pink Beach, Komodo Island, (from red coral chips washed ashore), Sahula, finally strikes snorkelers "gold." Offshore a wonderland of crystal clear, colourful fish and coral. Ginggo and Padar islands were poor cousins made up for by striking land and seascapes. Padar's steep peaks guard the circular bay of an ancient volcano.

Sahula follows the "Bugis" trail to Gili Dawa off northern Komodo Island. An orange orb, distant pink, purple, blue of Sumbawa Island's twin volcanoes, superb seascape, from yellow, brown bayside peaks after an evening climb. Tread carefully, this is Komoda Dragon country.

The grapevine fairly shudders with information from 116 Rally yachts. Some good, bad, some well meaning but misleading. Satonda Island is "good." It's at the end of Sahula's first all night sail in Indonesia.

Its circles - reef around and Island around a crater lake. Oddly the lake, a short walk from the seashore, is seawater despite being marginally higher with no entrance to the sea. The reef is good snorkeling. "Reef" is "good" (and rare) if mass fish are around autumn coloured but vibrant coral.

In the way of Indonesia, Satonda's anchorage is a port. The only sign of habitation is the mooring bouy and a jetty. There to receive Sahula is the Harbour Master, an elderly, pleasant fellow, adorned in full golden braided uniform, replete with forms and inevitable stamps. Under the trees, next to the monkeys, solomenly, 50,000 rupees ($5.00) "port fees" are passed upon an "A4" receipt and "port" form. The "Green book" bulges with forms of past ports.

Whale ho! Sahula first cetacaen.

Wind, wonderful wind - Sahula scuds along in a rare early morning 20-25 knots. A "Selat" wind, squeezed into the straits between Sumbawa and Lombok. Followed by, "wind where art thou," as it dies behind island and reverses direction into light breezes. Time to make another round of bread and muffins.

Another moonlight night sail to the Gili Islands off western Lombok.

It's tourist land, lines of hotels and resorts, glitzy streets to gather in the tourist rupee. They're "Bali bombed" into recession. A vibrant industry providing income for so many needy locals is struggling to be viable.

Sahula is in Teluk Kombal, the Lombok Island ferry port for the Gili islands. The Gili's are a tourists delight, no cars only horse drawn carts, surf and snorkeling on coral cays packed with tourism's accommodation and eateries. Anti-Sahula country so off to Kombal.

Kombal is swaying palms, beach and reef. Skipper takes 2 hours of motorbike therapy, to a mountain monkey sanctuary, through the green hills and jungle, rice paddies and village life. The gods are with us - the driver genuflects to the passing shrines.

Next day, the spectacular coast road to Sengigi. A sailor's delight - hundreds of multi-coloured traditional fishers outriggers fly triangular multi-coloured sails on an azure Selat Lombok (strait). Fishers by morning, then tenderers of copra palms, tapioca, rice, goats, cows and village children, mothers and elderly - an eternal survival cycle. The average income per-capita in Indonesia is $2300 - 2400.00. Many would exist on subsistence.

A pile of bamboo, cordage and plastic sail cloth, is all that would remain on a deconstructed fishers boat. Rigging is solid bamboo "wire."

A Sengigi lunch over Skipper's first newspaper since Darwin, The Jakarta Post (English written) reports on a mad world - "foreign" to local villagers.

Selat Lombok (strait) provides 30 knots of current whipped sea. Bali's lee provides a Tanya calm.

Bali under moonlight is a fairyland of lights set against a range of volcanoes. Sahula is entering deepest populated Indonesia. Bali, Java, Sumatra are home to the majority of Indonesia's 250 million.

Sahula is anchored, with the Fleet, at Lovina, northern Bali to a rising red orb. Fabled Bali finally found but first a sleeping skipper before tonights Regent's official dinner and welcome.

Best

David

Passage Report 15

Flores to Komodo

If cruising is doing maintenance in beautiful places then leaving Maumere and backtracking to Wodongs is eminently sensible. Sahula is here to meet "Galiano." Her skipper is an electronics expert. Cedric (Coursemaster self steering)

Dominated by a freshly "ashed" volcano, set in jungle, is a bay containing a "pure heaven" resort for 17 fortunate souls. At 75000 rupees ($7.50) per night including meals staying in delightful timber huts, "fortunate" gains a new meaning. It is voted the Rally's best restaurant.

The "maintenance" is successful. Cedric is well again. His malaise being caused by a malignant fuse. The restaurant is for celebration.

A fence away, villagers live in "happy" poverty. In villages, it seems the dead enjoy superior accommodation than the living. Large, elaborately tiled above ground Christian graves coexist in the yards of bamboo huts. Children play innocently around them. Life's full circle.

A quick visit in an impossibly crowded "bemo" to noisy, hectic, Maumere is enough to ensure it is time to sail again. Sahula has a week to the next Rally port, Labaun Bajo and Komodo Island.

The skipper meets Peter and Ullah (from Sweden) on "Lovina." Enjoyable company. Peter is doing a four day dive course at the resort. We will meet again at Komodo.

The idyll still requires its fill of "what is happening to Obana," "how is Rudd doing," "is Global Warming real?"

How do you spend a day at sea. The wind is various or light requiring frequent sail changes. It's Tanya who is the major player.

Between five minute "pop ups," bread and muffins are in the oven. The skippers second successful bake. Reefs, fishing nets, boats and bouys ensure navigation is a challenge. Patrick O'Brien's classic, "Master and Commander" fills the remaining small space. Ashore Flores parades its mountains and valleys, background to local fisher's villages. Triangular blue sailed fishing boats and sweeping prow, "bugis"cargo vessels ply by. The ruby orb sets to sundowners.

Sahula arrives late in Mausambi, Ende Regency. She rejoins the fleet. Many have already left. Finally there are two boats and three sailors. Skipper and friends are elevated to "royalty." It is Kalimutu Cultural Festival prize giving night. The locals are at fever pitch. A young white faced, goddess traditionally dressed in pink silk and weavings gracefully enwraps the skipper in her ekat, an invitation to join her in dance. Skipper, ekat displayed, takes the part of the wooing male. The Phillip

Glass mono-rhythm of drums and cymbals quickened, the villagers cheered - a night of memories.

So was the day. Kalimutu, the peak of three coloured volcanic lakes, is a much touted, star attraction. Two hours as pillion on Vinsen's motorbike, along a narrow, twisting, sometimes sealed road, waving to cheering school children, "hello mister," past a rural idyll of mountain clinging villages, terraced rice paddies; past clove, coffee, copra and cashew nut plantations, through busy Wednesday markets, found the cloudy coolness of jungle clad, Kalimutu National Park. Vinsen paid homage to the

legendary spirits of the departed and their continuing life in the lakes. The cloud lifted, the sun shone and closed over as we departed.

Sustainability is by default. Not for villagers a solar panel or electric car. A deconstructed village would leave a stone pile, bamboo, palm fronds and perhaps a plastic chair. Bamboo is mana. Poverty demands bamboo. It provides houses, furniture: beds, chairs, musical instruments, animal and bird pens, irrigation "pipes" and troughs. It's slotted, fitted, tied or nailed. Modern houses ape the west. Their high cost evidences "success?" Traditional or modern they co-exist in the same suburban maze.

Many homes are dark after dusk. The electricity connection fee is some two million rupees ($20.00).

Villagers are invariably spotless. Whereas, towns or cities expose their rubbish in the streets and gutters. It apparently depends on the headman's directive, presumably a more diffuse power in larger places. The result is the seas suffer. Sailing coastal Indonesia is through a constant stream of small goods wrapping. Turtles are rarely seen. The trailing plastic lure ensnares plastic.

Margaret (Aqua Magic - English) spends three days in the local hospital. Royalty could not receive more. On her departure the hospital staff and doctors lined the doorway. It is the Indonesian way.

A waterfront house was burnt down. The Fleet collects 800,000 rupees for the devastated family. The fleet also supports five university students in Kupang. Some good comes from the Rally.

Engrossed in a beautiful day, a glance shows a depth of 8 meters where the skipper expects infinity. Tanya is in full reverse. The coral smiles up. Charts are ancient. Later in Monkey Bay, Sahula caresses a coral bombie. The navigator's guard can never rest unless miles offshore (perhaps).

Monkey Bay is calm and protected, it's a welcome respite from last night rolling. Monkeys chat ashore. Young youths paddle over to receive, excitedly, their gift each of a biro and to practice their English lessons. Indonesian children are well mannered, effervescent, enjoyable, ever present, company. However, where canoe fleets swamp the yachts, it is tiresome respond to the repeated conversation inevitably requiring a "gift."

Sundowners aboard Sahula with Thomas, Klaus and Ziggy (Nahda Brahma - Germany) and Brian and Anne (Hydrasail - Australia).

Another day in this lovely place to paint. Skipper works at a Indonesian modernist pastel and a small water colour. The water colour is of Galiano, whose skipper, Brian, was so generous with his time in repairing the self steering. A delightful day.

Mollie (MPS spinnaker) has been feeling ignored; not today. The rare full days sailing.

A constant reminder of the failings of digital charts is the persistent collisions with reefs by a fleet yacht. Her skipper relies on them. Lady luck shines elsewhere than this boat. It has so far, lost its propeller, suffered a diesel tank leak into the bilge, hit two reefs and had two major bouts of illness aboard.

Lovely Bodo, clear water, golden beach, no villagers - time out. Lovely BBQ fire on beach, with three other crews, to watch the sun dip.

Now rejoined the fleet at Labaun Bajo, west Flores. It's the entry to the Komodo dragon World Heritage islands. A day here to stock food, fuel and water, have laundry done and prepare for a week amongst the dragons.

Passage Report No. 14

A CALL for CREW

Sahula would like a crew from Bali to Singapore. Applications are invited. Email the skipper on djhaigh@gmail.com Departure from Bali on 25th Sept or from Karimun Java on 6th October. Passage is via Karimun Java, Kalimantan (Borneo), Belitung and Batam. Arrival in Singapore late October or early November.

Alor to Lembata to Flores

Anchors aweigh to the calls to Allah on a beautiful, calm, misty Alor fjord. Early morning fishers in fragile canoes wave farewell. A fair wind and current sends the fleet past Pantar Island to Lombata. The skipper feels an affinity.

Sahula with all sail, surfs the swells, then it is calm under the lee of nascent Kadang volcano. In fading light there is only time to follow the fleet to anchor in Bularin Bay over coral bombies ensuring a noisy night of dragging chain.

Sahula again surfs the morning swells. Village canoes greet the morning. Theirs is the precarious fishers life, from villages clinging to the skirts of the brooding, sulphur steaming cone of Lewotolo volcano.

A reminder that this is the land of fire. The chart denotes "gas" or underwater volcanoes that may create oxygenated water that would deny a vessel buoyancy.

A brisk sail into Lewoleba, "capital" of Lombata island to anchor amongst the fleet. The fleet has grown to include the Roti and Lombata bound group direct from Kupang.

The locals are a "water" people. Shore side houses extend precariously over the shallow bay on a forest of spindly timbers. A low tide the children reclaim their soccer "field."

In Darwin, Indonesia's traditional wooden boats are museum exhibits. Here they support the fishers daily bread. They line the shore. Children in dugout canoes, larger craft, home to fisher families; speedy, long narrow colourful "day" craft; of large elegant trading ships with impossibly sky bound, curving bowsprits and blue, yellow, red sailed canoes, form a continual fleet. Motors (1 cylinder, no muffler) clacking, they seem to only have full speed.

The skipper, a passenger with three lively youths in a passing canoe, can rebut their seeming instability.

A traditional shipyard (a beach at low tide) in Kalabahi, crafted boats and repairs using mainly hand tools to cut and pin with wood plugs and steel nails. Timber strakes are caulked with bark. Aluminum dinghies or outboards are not seen in any port.

A visit to the wharf provides a tour of three large traditional trading vessels. The conditions are basic in the extreme. Inter-island commerce relies entirely on these craft.

Indonesian marine society is a living Darwinian "museum."

Another wonderful welcome. In the morning, we are ushered through a symbolic thatched gate by traditional warriors offering food and kava. Then after dances, we're invited to board various trucks and motorbikes for a tour led by warriors mounted on six small but tough horses. For 2 hours our parade is welcomed by massed school children and locals on a tour throughout the city and environs. The spontaneity is touching.

Well meaning but inappropriate, is the dance by the infant children of a catholic school. Guided by nuns they came dressed in silken costumes of a USA drum marching team and in tight teenage colourful tops and shorts. Their "western" dance serves to highlight the grace and beauty of traditional culture.

The Vice-Regents evening dinner reception displays the local dances of warriors, beautiful graceful children and women. The skipper and others are invited to join in the traditional dances. One involved footwork between swift moving bamboo poles, inelegant but...the skipper ankles survived; others were games involving a bow and arrow; a version of touch, all to great local delight and applause. Another wonderful evening.

Differences between the island cultures are becoming clearer. Nothing evidences it more than the weaving. Alor work is colourful, Lombata darker, all is the result of long hours by village women. Their price seems woefully inadequate.

Three hours bounced over mountains, in a bus-cum-truck, had us in Lemalera whaling village. Brave villagers hunt whales, in a traditional version of "Moby Dick," from wooden long boats with an iron tipped bamboo harpoon. They're exempt from the Whaling Convention because some 25 whales a year is not considered a threat. A three hour "bounce" back to attend another evening of marvelous cultural events and dancing. Three hours rest and....

It's called Ipu Lewatolo. Its cone, at 4754 feet, seethes steam and sulphur. It's tantalising, a challenge and close. Two Germans, Tomas and Klaus, and skipper, were "bemo'd" away at 0400, were on its slopes at 0530. Gonnar, the guide (not a name for inspiration!) rapidly moved through the jungle, grasses and treeless summit rocks. The summit cone bulged with yellow steaming sulphur fissures and ash. The "old" summit edges, with white ashed, dry lakes below, provided an awesome moonscape and beyond, superb island vistas.

It was not all go, Domin, from a village high up, offered to provide refreshments. We found him up a tall palm trunk, slashing coconuts down to provide sweet juice. He promised similar on our return. Later, a banana tree sign said, "This coconut for Mr. David and his friends - From Domin." Generosity knows no bounds.

The fleet enjoyed to short day to Kroko Island. An off lying small sand cay, crystal clear water, and fleet drinks to the sunset and the moonrise. Ipu Lewatolo bade fair well, the orbed moon rising precisely behind its summit. Life is good.

Indonesia's living nature seems solely people. It is their sounds that fill the air, not that of wildlife. There are no large flights of seabirds. The seas are mysteriously quiet. Underwater diving reveals few fish. On land as well, the lack of wildlife; birds, animals and even insects, means a surreal silence. Perhaps the land and seas have none of life's sustaining nutrients. In the dry season the islands are impossibly dry. More likely it is the huge imbalance in favour of human needs. Every bay is a myriad of fishing floats and nets. Fishing using explosives ensures devastated reefs.

The dry season also ensures few mosquitoes. Sahula is fully gauzed and fastidious use of repellant at dusk and dawn, reduces the odds of malaria.

Sahula's crew is ill from some lapse in dealing in local food and water. Fortunately, there are three fleet doctors. Soon she is well. Similar illness is afflicting many in the fleet. There is one reported case of malaria.

The doctors also assist locals seeking help. Generally the locals seem fit and healthy. They are a small, slim, people, free of obesity. Their diet of rice, vegetables, meat and fish is repeated in numerous forms.

In Rally ports Sahula's crew dine ashore. Meals average around three dollars or less.

Sahula is finding bays using "101 Anchorages in Indonesia" and reports of past voyages. It is an aspect of fleet sailing that Sahula is never alone. The advantage is reports on, exposure, reefs and deep water conditions.

All anchorages intrude on some village life. Some inhabitants, youths in log canoes, ask for "gifts;" others trade tropical fruits and vegetables for T shirts, pencils or exercise books. Crews are sensitive to the material poverty. Their charity would seem almost pointless were it not for the flashing smiles. Well mannered, generous people are order of the day. Security is not an issue.

Maumere is the administrative centre of Sikka regency. The official welcome is marvelous. The program is similar but the content quite different. We are welcomed outside by the Regent, local headman and dancing women. The skipper, as fleet representative, is presented with a local Ikat (weaved scarf) by the Regent. Traditional dances are noticeably livelier than previous welcomes. We are told that traditional dances are evolving to include more modern choreography. The skipper and fleet are soon whirling deverishes. Then, a unique touch, a modern play is acted, to great local and fleet amusement. It is clear the male has been unfaithful and reluctantly regrets his transgression. A marvelous meal, beautifully presented, more dancing sees the night out.

Next day is a boat race and evenings include cultural events. The setting sun, through palms, background to a beach "bbq" at the Sea World Resort, ends another day.

Lorraine (crew) flies out to Australia. Sahula is quiet. It has been three lovely months. Sahula is now "1 POB "(one person on board) till at least Bali. She may return in Phuket, Thailand.

It is said that "cruising is doing maintenance in beautiful places." The truth rings as Sahula's automatic electronic self steering refuses to work. It is the only major repair so far. The skipper finds new skills. The fleet rally to assist. The system is useful as the skippers extra crew especially when using Tanya (the motor).

Another day before leaving for Mausambi, Ende regency, a full day's sail.

********************************************************

Passage Report 13

West Timor to Alor

"Who wants to be a millionaire..."a hundred dollars at the ATM and presto. A wonderful illusion as the fuel (75 cents a litre) is some 600,000 rupees for 80 litres it's a mathematical test to calculate the change. A rule of thumb is 10,000 rp to the Austn dollar.

No amount of money can describe the generosity, love of life and the welcome smile of the Indonesian people. Wealth and poverty live a wall away, in potholed streets without gutters, conduits for constant massed motorbikes and noisy bemos (mini-bus). Early morning, the call to the faithful, cocks crowing, give an illusion of daytime peace.

Escape is on daily tours organized by the Rally. It was on one of these, that three commuter buses wended their way up a 4WD "road" to Nefokouk Lake. It was wonderful to be in countryside. It was billed as "lunch with the local government."

The brown, dry season, scenery seemed impossible of life. Rivers were crowded with washers. Impossible rice paddies amongst palms, drew on the wells.

There, ahead the "almost a road" was blocked with crowds of people. We alighted to a welcoming sung by golden silk dressed little girls in front of the Mayor and elders and an escort through the milling crowd by dervish dancing warriors twirling to sounds of cymbals and drums. We moved in wonderment. We shook a hundred hands of welcoming traditionally dressed locals. It was a welcome more fitting to royalty.

In front of the lake was set up the Nefokouk village "red carpet. The Mayoral speech expressed their gratitude for our journey and apologized for any mistakes (a characteristic of every speech) and the hope we would tell the world of our experience. The "experience" then included a marvelous meal, joining in traditional dancing to songs sung by a choir of local youths and their band, demonstrations of hand weaving of beautiful ekats and sarongs. There was never any doubt we would tell the world of

this lovely place and its welcoming people.

I needed a Kupang chemist. Motorbiked youths offered a ride as pillion. A hair rising death defying ride in heavy traffic produced a box of bandaids. I needed fruit and vegetables. Sintra, a young female student guided me to the No.6 bemo. Another wild, hooting, whistling ride heralded the Kupang Mall. Did I wish to "test" local fruit, find some goodie; Sintra arranged it. On the bemo, keen to speak English, neat uniformed school students and a teacher, tested their skills. Indonesia is enjoying

mass education. It is compulsory to year 9. Despite a Government rule of two and no more, children abound. Without the load of life, they are the joy of Indonesia. They love a photograph and signature in their school book.

It was time for the Mayoral reception. Another round of magnificent food and traditional dances joined by the Rally crews.

Wonderful Kupang; it was time to leave. Relief mixed with sadness. Smiling Customs officers removed the restraining stickers. We hear the "impounding" is national and international news. We hear of bombings in Java. It is a land of contrasts. Ours is of overwhelming hospitality, of endless smiles and beautiful people. We leave with these memories for Alor.

The fleet sail north. Firstly, a light stern breeze provides fine sailing into the setting sun. Then the fleet is held for hours in an opposing current before a rising headwind. Sails are set, removed, set again. Tanya earns her keep. It is a long night. A motor up the channel between the islands is scenic; past high peaks and volcanoes and through the tumbling white water of a tidal race, into the beautiful Alor fjord. We anchor with the fleet off Kalabahi city. Mosques seem everywhere but we're

told it's 75% Christian.

A marvelous morning Mayoral welcome to traditional music and dancing introduces the day.

Later, Sahula dragged anchor. A stones throw offshore yields depths of hundreds of meters. Yachts crowd the inshore shallower water. The Fleet "anchor watch" rescues troubled boats when the wind increases.

The evening event is a Regents welcome dinner with an extra rather special performance amongst the locals traditional dances.

This requires a rather creative imagination. The skipper and two other males and three ladies are invited to don a traditional costume. We are to be presented at the reception. The skipper is adorned in a wildly colourful Pandar Island "dress" of a feathered, beaded, head-dress, sarong and ekat with a beaded belt. All that is missing is a machete. Great hilarity by the Regent, thronging locals and Fleet are recorded in massed flashing cameras. It is a wonderful deeply etched memory. I think we again

made the national news.

Next day a tour to a traditional tribal village, dances and a beachside lunch with a special traditional dance and band from the local school.

Lorraine went on a snorkeling tour. Amazing coral and massed colourful fish were the order of the day. Alor is billed as providing excellent diving.

It is interesting to mull on the Fleet's evolving characteristics. On arrival in Kupang one boat turned back to Darwin, unable to cope with the bureaucracy. After Kupang the Fleet split. Some yachts went to surf at Roti Island, others went direct to Lomblen Island.

The bureaucracy is causing tension. Yachties with time on their hands and boats worth millions are stressing over a few dollars (literally) or requests for documents by customs or the harbour master. It's corrupt they bellow on the assumption of a perfect world. The impounding in Kupang was not popular. To most however it was a good story bathed in local intrigue.. Some of the large US yachts are the most problematic. They seem to expect an Asian America,

efficient, technological and speedy. Of course, expecting such a state creates the opposite.

Generally, given the context, the Rally organization has been excellent. Every need is met. Every day is organized with tours or events. Guides, students or official, provide constant assistance. Fuel, water and laundry is delivered on request. The huge effort is largely done by volunteers with the backing of the local or national government. There is a reason. The Rally is a promotional opportunity to showcase to an international group, the local attractions. The Rally effectively doubled the number

of foreign tourists to Alor. It is a rare unspoilt jewel.

There are nine more ports.

Every day police, uniformed and plain clothes inobtrusively patrol the venues and tour sites. Dinghy security is provided by local youths for a small fee.

It is time to leave alluring Alor. Tomorrow we sail over two days past volcanoed islands to Lowaleba on Lomblen Island.

Kalahabi port is abuzz with expectation of more adventures.

Passage Report 12

Darwin to Kupang, West Timor, Indonesia

Sv Sahula

It's beautiful under a silver moon on a sparkling ocean with cascading stars bright, loping towards Kupang across the Arafura/Timor Sea.

It's particularly so after some two weeks in Darwin. Darwin is a lovely city. It's small enough to be a town, large enough to have the facilities. However, it is a measure to the sailor that cities are irksome. Sailors enjoy space and a large measure of peace.

Traffic, buses, crowds stimulate but frustrate.

A lovely day swimming in waterfalls crystal clear pools at Litchfield National Park made for some release. The Parap and Milden Beach markets, maritime museum, art gallery, the old town, provided culture. The Darwin Yacht Club personified the innate friendliness of Territorians. 111 Rally yachts nestled in Fanny's bay with ruby red sunsets, had few complaints.

Fanny is known for her highs and lows. Her tides range some 6-8 metres making anchoring interesting.. Monohulls, frustratingly, were well offshore. Multihulls enjoyed their advantage. Particularly when a morning breeze tested the resolve of wet crews such as Sahula's, in small, 2 hp 2m inflatables. The Yacht club hot showers were never appreciated more.

So when 11.00 am Saturday, 26th July loomed the fleet was buzzing. Mainsails sped up masts. Mollie, Sahula's bright blue and white MPS joined other colourful sails in a sailing spectacle that would make ABC news.

Sahula lifted her skirts and sped across an azure Arafura Sea. She moved through the fleet until a lowering evening breeze meant she required Tanya's assistance. Her crew opted for much needed post Darwin sleep, impossible with the motor. The fleet motored over the horizon. Sahula hove to awaiting the Sunday early morning breeze.

Later, with all sails up and Tanya's assistance, she sped to join the fleet. Through the day "oil" again replaced ripples. Tanya assuming command till the late evening breeze gave some respite. For the first two days, calm to light breezes kept Kupang well in the distance. Shore birds glided over barely rippled seas.

Sahula has an attraction to birds. First there was Grace, the dove, (off Bribie Island) now Oscar the booby. He (?) signed on at dusk. He signaled his hesitant intention with long close up glides and flutters. Finally he took up residence on the edge of a solar panel. It was there he left his "signature."

Oscar is an odd bird. He is a seabird yet opted for the hard steel perch rather than the sea. Here, he is safe. All is quiet apart from the muted sounds of a ship rolling one hundred miles offshore. Oscar clearly knew where to rest.

The night "hove to" ensures Sahula an almost last position. "Almost" as at dusk two white triangles signaled company. The daily radio "position" schedule shows those at the head of the fleet being in Kupang a day or so before.

Two ruby red orange orbs and oily seas mark Sahula's days. Tanya is enjoying her full time use. The sails flap listlessly. Faith in the Wind God continues to ebb.

However, Kupang beckons; Tanya assumes night duties. Remarkably, the crew sleep regardless. Emails received on the HF radio give some respite but weather reports predict more of the same.

Night motoring has its risk. At midnight, while crossing the Sahul Banks, a new sound came into Tanya's repertoire. The log slowed to one knot. Sahula seemingly was unwilling to leave her namesake.

A torch over the side revealed a thin blue line leading to the rudder or propeller. Sahula was trapped in a fishing long line. Sahula's star still shined; the line could be reached and pulled aboard to be cut off. It was not around the propeller. Sahula was free, relieved and soon under way.

Sahula's "namesake is a place of monster oil drilling platforms, reefs and great geological contrast. The Sahul Banks rise to seven meters while immediately alongside the Timor Trench plummets to 3500 m.

It is the edge of "Sahulaland," an ancient landform, crafted before rising seas, of PNG and Australia. Similarly joined Indonesian islands were called "Wallacialand" and Asia "Sundaland". Fittingly, "Sahula" means "Australia."

100 miles to go. Trepidation and excitement are in the air.. It is the beginning. The chart marks Sahula crossing Indonesia/ Australia sea boundary. The first of many international and national waters Sahula will adventure in on her global travels.

One "orb" sets, another rises on a ruby day. Life is good. It feeds on contrasts. Great sailing and adventures are interspersed with great frustrations. A sailors "Theory of Relativity."

Sahula is in her final night at sea. The "rear" fleet is slowly coalescing, using up the night in preparation for entering port in the early morning. The Rally has been warned of unlit fishing boats and their nets. Once burned, twice shy. Sahula is almost hove to awaiting first light.

The blue distant mountains of Timor give first land. Memories flood of the excitement and awe of a young cadet aboard the m.v. "English Star," sighting the red cliffs of the Horn of Africa.

Sahula anchors amongst the 111 yachts in Kupang Bay off Teddy's Bar. Her first overseas crossing is over. The sounds of vibrant, noisy Kupang replace the silent seas. The musical horns of the colourful bemos (taxis), motorbikes roaring, of endless people, of poverty, wealth and hussle. The crew suffer culture shock.

The freedom of the seas is replaced by a burdening bureaucracy.

Sahula must confront the needs of Indonesia's quarantine, immigration, port master and Customs. Each requires its own copies on copies of documents on documents, of visits on visits to Sahula. It pays to be patient. It's a new land.

There are needs to fulfill. Diesel, water and stores provide a challenge. The fuel has to be clean; water potable. Costs vary according to each hustler. Personal health is a constant consideration.

There is one major test. Customs inform each skipper that unless they are prepared to pay a huge duty, they cannot complete their work. Accordingly the whole fleet is impounded till further notice. Any moving of the yacht (not of the crew) will result in immediate impoundment and possible sale of the vessel. An elaborate "sticker" is placed on each hull to this effect. All transactions are with officers providing a lovely smiling, quite genuine, welcome. There is some consternation. A Rally rationale

included exclusion from the "duty". Decisions are being made in higher places. In Indonesia, the seemingly impossible is always possible.

The fleet is in an ebullient mood. Kupang is ready to welcome the fleet with a seemingly endless party. The highlight is the Governor's reception. A wonderful meal, regional food tasting stalls and a superb show (including the Governor's speech of welcome and a gift to all crew of a woven, shoulder worn, Ekat) of stunning traditional costumes and dancing adorning beautiful people. The skipper "traditionally" dances the night away.

The sounds of cocks, of calls to Islamic faithful, of cooking fires and smoke, awake each day. The culture shock wanes to acceptance. Indonesia is colourful, welcoming and an adventure.

The "duty" issue resolves on Sunday.

Sahula is here for a few days then voyages to Alor in the north eastern islands. Alor awaits with another rally reception.

A quiet calm bay with clear water and few people, beckons along the way.

Passage Report #11

Passage Report No 11

Sahula

Gove to Darwin

It's called the Hole in the Wall or more aptly the Gugari Rip. It's a narrow (some 50 metres), its deep and it squeezes massive volumes of tidal water between the rock cliffs of Wessels Islands, Guluwuru Island and Raragala Island. It's spoken of in awe.

Leaving Gove is in anticipation of the Rip. Specific guidance is given at the Gove Yacht Club. Vessels pass Cape Wilberforce and overnight at Wigram Island ready to transit the next day, on the top of high tide or during the first hour of the ebb.

Sahula arrived in company of two other yachts. She was the first to enter. Conditions were not as per "guidance". The Rip was some 6 knots or more in flood. Whirlpools and upwelling met Sahula threatening to turn her to the rock walls on either side... This was not "slack" water. Sails were insufficient, Tanya went into action, driving Sahula, twisting and turning, the mile to the end.

Selene of Norway was to transit tomorrow. We radioed that the "guidance" was incorrect. The next day 9 yachts passed through benefiting from Sabula's advice.

We'd earned a rest in Guruliya Bay an hour west of the Rip. A lovely place of blue water, white beaches and barren rock island. Sahula stayed two nights. The fleet came and went.

We "bushwalked" inland finding many "arranged stone circles." Lorraine "discovered" under spectacularly eroded coastal sandstone cliffs, numerous ancient hand "splattering" and paintings of fish, and human forms. Art marked time.

Sahula was now to pass over the "top" to Darwin in a series of day sails along the coast. There are two routes over the "Top"; one involves an offshore overnight passage. Sahula in post-Gulf mode was not attracted to that option. The "coastal" option is more risky. It involves day passages through shallow, shoal strewn, uncharted waters. Sahula opted for the adventure in calm water.

The first passage was to Gunawa Point bay on Elcho Island, a 7 hour sail.

The second was to Cape Stewart passing cautiously through a narrow passage between the Crocodile Islands. "Cautiously" because the chart proclaimed large areas as "uncharted" or containing shoals as "Rept 1900." (or thereabouts). The depth sounder is the sailor's best friend.

Each evening the day's adventure is muted by "sundowners" (wine and nibbles) against a spectacular sunset.

As well it was beautiful sailing with the ESE'ly coming from the land. The azure sea was calm, wind 15 -20 knots.

To cap it all, the new "Gove" lure secured a large tuna for dinner ('s). The deck was covered in blood before the fight was won. On a moving deck, just lifting aboard the luckless fish was a battle, let alone filleting it. Protein was the reward.

Each day between 0800 - 0900 (Darwin time) the Darwin Net (6516) provides contact with other vessels on passage across the "Top" and handy advice from their experiences. It will run throughout the Indonesian Rally.

Sahula's skipper has agreed to be a Net coordinator next week. A new experience and contribution to a marvelous facility run by yachties. There are many "nets" for particular marine areas that keep yachts in contact e.g. Coral Sea "Sheila Net" on 8161.

A "long day" (12 hours) sailing found secure anchorage at Cape Stewart then another to Mullet Bay, North Goulburn Island.

The latter passage involved Sahula almost becalmed and being swept to the rocks and shoals off Braithwaite Point. A late afternoon breeze and "Mollie" (MPS) kept water under the keel. However, the day extended to a moonless, inky night sail through the passage between the Goulburn Islands. Night sailing is not for the feint hearted in these waters. No actual sighting was made of the islands. Sahula was doing 8 knots with the tide. At midnight, grateful for the radar and GPS digital charts, Sahula anchored in Mullet Bay.

The Cape was on the Aboriginal Lands permit, but not Mullet Bay. It's exclusion raised the issue of "going ashore." Substantial fines ($2000) apply to offenders. Some crews proudly refused to get a permit, an act of "white" defiance. Others obtained a permit for the places they'd visit. This exercise requires pre-planning and time as the consent is required of each relevant Traditional Owner."

Sahula obtained a permit at Gove under new fast tracked arrangements for yachts in transit across the "Top." However, it was limited in scope. It meant in many places the crew was yacht bound.

It's impossible not to feel the aboriginality of this region. Arnhem land seemed to be the very cultural font. However, it was never more so than when Sahula anchored in Bowen Strait with Croker Island bordering one side.

Many years ago, the skipper met Mary Yarmirr, an elder of Croker Island's people. This tall, regal lady was leading the High Court battle for legal recognition over the waters surrounding her peoples land. The people won only limited rights to conduct their cultural activities not full possession. The low, flat, unimposing Croker Island, a few meters off Sabula's bow, these waters and the name "Yarmirr", became a legal artifact to be studied by generations of law students.

Morning had Sahula sailing to Port Essington. In contrast to the aboriginality, this "port" sort to establish a different culture, that of Europe. A beautiful harbour, Sahula sailed through it to the National Parks centre at Black Point and then onto the inappropriately named "Berke\ey Bay". She was there with eleven other, Rally bound, yachts.

Port Essington is proof of "mad dogs and Englishmen...." In 1838 a settlement, aptly named "Victoria," was established to defend the realm on the dry rock hard earth of Minto Head. A more pitiless place, one could not imagine for the overdressed English to "...go out in the midday (or any) sun." Yet there they built in "ironstone" blocks a Government House, a hospital, a wharf, soldier's quarters and homes. A little England in the heat and desolation. To atone for the "madness" some 50 souls required disturbing of that "iron" soil.

After a decade "Victoria" took "her" toll. The occupants work was simply abandoned to history.

Four days passed pleasantly in Berkeley Bay. Of particular interest to the foreign yachts were the crocodiles in the nearby creek. The skipper sighted a 5 meter monster. One was found basking on the beach. Swimming is a risky activity. It's reported they are also predisposed to inflatable dinghies, particularly small ones like "Zod," Sahula's link to shore. Olive (the 2hp outboard) was exercised at top speed. An act of delusion.

An azure sea, a blue, clear cobalt sky, a fair wind and white sails of the fleet all on coarse for Darwin from Cape Don. A day enhancing the myth of sailing. Rarely is it all so beautiful. A perfect occasion for photography. Kayitsiz III (Turkish yacht) and Sahula exchanged photographers as the boats sailed alongside flying headsails. Later with "Galiano" (NZ), Sahula exchanged photos of our spinnakers drawing.

When finally the wind died, Tanya took Sahula with Galiano and Kayitsiz III to anchor behind Cape Hotham. We were in no hurry to arrive in the city. We toasted the sunset aboard Galiano.

A light ESE'ly, an early start, and the fleet, next day, made good time through the Clarence Strait to Darwin. Sahula had arrived. She anchored in Fanny Bay with some hundred yachts. A spectacular sight.

An invitation to dine aboard the lovely 47 footer Pampero capped a marvelous sail from Gove.

So now two weeks of city life, rest, and valiant attempts to shorten the ever present list of things to do. Then on Saturday, 26th July, a short two weeks, Sahula sails out for her first foray into international waters to Kupang, West Timor in Indonesia.

It's marvelous to contemplate this amazing potpourri of Rally sailors. They range from an eighth month old baby, young children to twenties to retirees. They're aboard big luxury yachts to 28 footer. The average length is 42 feet. They're from Australia, New Zealand, Canada, USA, Austria, Switzerland, France, Germany, Netherlands, Turkey, South Africa, Japan and the United Kingdom. They're subsistence to wealthy, aboard mono hulls or multihulls, homemade to classy professional.

All set out in a mass fleet start on Saturday week for some four days sail across the Timor Sea to Kupang. There is a buzz afloat in Fanny Bay.

Life is never dull.

Best

David

Sv Sahula

Passage Report #10

Taking the Gulf by Storm

No one discussed the Gulf of Carpentaria. It was just there. A benign sea in a sea of oceans. A place to be crossed - in three days -to get to the other side and the fabled Wessels before Darwin

This perception was about to change.

The "fleet" had gone their separate ways. The Turks and "Carronade" were in Thursday Island. "Selene" and "Full Moon" were headed south to Seisa and Weipa. Wise Ely on Selene said they'd get a better "angle" from there and it was shorter to Gove. "Had we heard..." the weather report forecast of a coming change likely to create 30 knot winds, with another following. These highs were like Sahula, "moving on".

Sahula didn't fancy Thursday Island or Weipa. She was for greater adventures. Cape York marked the finale to the East Coast. It was time to raise the curtain of the Territory's "Top End."

"Evelyn" had left, "Kristianne" also. So doubts, even forebodings aside, let's go, it was only the Gulf.

Cape York sank astern; the notorious Torres Strait was blue and beautiful. The glistening white obelisk and its brass plaque on Possession Island, proudly proclaimed Australia for Cook - an Englishman. History was in good hands in a bare and "vacant" land.

The clear sky sped Sahula across the Strait's shoals to Woody Wallis Island, our final landfall before the Gulf.

"Evelyn" radioed ahead she was almost becalmed with "everything up." Sahula raised "Mollie" (the MPS - spinnaker), great sailing to the setting sun. The full moon rose, Sahula contentedly cleaved the Gulf. The idyll was about to change.

Gradually the wind increased, unusual at night, so sails were trimmed to two reefed main and furled yankee. A good sailing seemed the order of the moonlit night. The crew did three hour watches. Lorraine was on her first major ocean crossing, so was the skipper. We had a nice dinner.

Then the wind increased. Previous gusts became consistent increases. Sahula surfed to 6-7 knots. It promised a fast trip to Gove. With the raising wind so did the sea. It did so alone.

In usual ocean conditions, a raised sea accompanies a rising swell. The waves are superimposed on the swell. Tonight, there was no swell; instead a chaotic cauldron was developing. Sahula instead of finding the expected order of plying the swell buffeted by waves was in a sea of confusion with more similarities to a washing machine bowl. The only consistency was the increasing wind, now verging on gale force.

Sahula held her two reefs in the mainsail and furled the yankee to a pocket hankerchief. She was handling it well. She inspired confidence. She was enjoying the challenges being thrown against her. Intermittently, collapsing tops curled into "grey beards," towered above then erupted against the hull. White water flowed across the deck. Most important, the plastic side "walls" around the cockpit kept the crew dry and relatively wind free. The crew managed three hour watches. The main cabin, its low

lights and mellow timber, provided a surreal atmosphere of warmth, calm and serenity. Lorraine, remarkably, was sleeping well despite the reasons the skipper had mere refreshing snippets. The thin blue line from the GPS (satellite navigation system) marked the computer course to Gove. The miles inexorably ticked away.

The first gear failure was on Arial (wind vane self steering). The vane paddle shaft swivel disengaged so the paddle flopped up disabling the system. In calm conditions it was simple to re-engage it. In this maelstrom it was impossible. Sahula's crew would have to hand steer to Gove. The hydraulic self steering system used too much battery power to be a viable long term option. Gove was two days away.

It was not a disaster. It was good experience to "feel" the boat in these extreme conditions, steer "through the gorges, over the mountains," but tiring if it was to be for two days and two nights. Then the wind indicator closed down, then started again. It was not critical.

The Darwin Net (an inter-yacht radio net) provided news of Evelyn's travails. She was just ahead of Sahula. The Net kept a welcome daily watch over both yachts.

The half way mark passed by, soon morning found land birds fishing thirty miles from shore. Sahula was nearly there. The radar confirmed land was near. It was early Saturday morning when Veronica Light gave a welcome flash and Sahula was soon tracking down Melville Bay to Gove Harbour. The relief was palpabable, of both satisfaction and calm. The crew were too tired to celebrate. They'd simply made it. The anchor dropped amongst the many boats off the Gove Yacht Club. Not a soul stirred aboard Sahula

till late in the day.

Later, Sahula heard there were 15 yachts, in Weipa, awaiting fine conditions to cross the Gulf.

Sahula rested at Gove for three days, restocking at Nhulunbuy and enjoying the company of the many yacht owners also heading to Darwin. Olive, the outboard, was not well. She needed repairs. An Aboriginal land access permit was also required, and an Alcohol Permit to buy wine. Coastal NT is 70% owned by Aboriginal communities. Fotunately the Indonesian Rally organizers had arranged that participants be granted a full NT Aboriginal land permit. There are heavy fines for illegal access by cruising

yachtspersons.

A plan is to depart on Thursday, with other yachts, for the Wessel Island group and then day sail along the NT coast to Croker Island and through to Darwin. Sahula plans to be in Darwin in two weeks.

Best

David

Sv Sahula

Cairns to Cape York Sailing Notes

Winds:

Light winds taunted Sahula after Cairns to Port Douglas. The locals told us not to worry, the Trades set hereafter. They were right. They blow from 15 to 30 knots the whole way up the coast. It can be day and night. The mainsail was never used, only the Yankee and staysail. On two days (in 2 weeks) the MPS (spinnaker) was needed to keep up the daily mileage. Sometimes in the morning the wind was light and more westerly due to cooler land. By lunchtime the Trade SE'ly had set in. It usually blew all

night. However, at times it would drop after midnight and early morning winds would be light.

Tides:

Tides did not affect noticeably the seas. The strong winds won any battle. However the Albany Passage tidal flow was contrary to Lucas's advice on northerly setting flood tides. Locals say tides in the Straits are not predictable. We found no tidal overflow sea confusion of any note.

Seas:

The seas vary depending on how reefs protect the shipping "channel" However, it can be quite rough and the boat motion reflects it. A corkscrew motion is quite common with the short following seas. Surfing the waves before the Trades, is part of the fun.

Anchorages:

There are many anchorages. Lucas advises of many of them but there would be more in behind the numerous cays. Depth of water in these could be a problem. Lucas's anchorages were accurately reported.

We had no uncomfortable roll prone anchorages even when behind cays. Lucas's reports of rolly anchorages could be accurate in certain conditions. It seemed that the harder the Trades, the calmer the anchorage.

Passages:

Sahula's average daily speed in 15-25 knots was 6.5 knots plus. This made 12 hour passages viable. This length of passage is the daily average. Daylight was at 0530 each morning to 1830. Its always a great days sailing. A sleigh ride in 20 knots and over.

Night Time Passages:

Sahula only did one; from Port Douglas to Lizard Island. It was a long pitch black night and not to be recommended. However, navigation by radar, lights and Capt. Navigator digital charts and GPS input made the risks acceptable. A moon light night would make it even more so. We didn't repeat the effort. Past Lizard Island a night passage would pose excessive risks.

Rivers:

Port Douglas is blocked at low tide. Entrance can only be made at half tide. There is plenty of water up to the entrance bouy. The shallow water is in the marked channel.

Sahula only entered Escape River. There is a shallow bar across the entrance. At mid tide this bar registered 2.9 m ie 1.4 m under the keel. It could be less in places. The bar is about a half a mile seaward of the entrance. We found it coming in from the South and when departing directly to sea. The bar may not be a consistent length across the whole entrance. Sahula draws 1.5 m.

Inside the River there was plenty of water. It is not a place to enter at night. The extensive pearl farm racks along the river need careful attention. Around the early parts of the River they are on both sides of the passage channel. Further upstream they're on the port side. Ropes from the racks have been reported to cause propeller problems. It is advised to keep well clear of the racks. The Racks did not extend far up the River.

Shipping:

Shipping and remarkably large ships, keep strictly to the chart marked channel. They expect small boats to keep clear. This is not difficult as there is plenty of room off to one side or completely out of the channel. .

Navigation:

The Channel beacons are large towers (some have helicopter pads attached) visible from a long distance. The Channel is wide being "two way" and very well marked making navigation easy. They had radar recognition markers, appearing at long streaks on the screen. Corners can be cut quite safely in places. A chart plotter or digital chart and GPS are not essential but they provide a stress free trip. Especially if the outside the main shipping channel. Visibility was hazy at times but sufficiently clear

to see the beacons and any other shipping.

Sahula navigated through the Owen Channel, Flinders Group, Albany Passage and between Eborac Is and Cape York. In all places the passage was no problem.

Good sailing

David

Sv Sahula

Passage Report #9

Cairns to Cape York.

If yacht cruising is a reaction against some less attractive incentive, then being too long in Cairns is a good example. It's the quintessential tourist city. A place whose great tropical beauty attracts human nature like flies. The world's travelers "own" the city. Sahula was in the central Marlin Marina home to dozens of tour boats that each day swarmed, in sun or rain, to the offshore reef delights. It is not a place Sahula would chose to linger. However, the skipper met good friends, had repairs

done and awaited, patiently, Lorraine, the Melbourne crew.

Sahula was slipped at Norship shipyards for three days. The propeller skeg welds had cracked and required strengthening and then "Tanya" (the engine) required realignment and more as the propeller shaft rattled happily. One job leads to another. It was frustrating (not least because of regular tropical showers) as it was hoped that such troubles were no more. Of course, there are experts, but welcome though advice is, it invariably varies rather than confirms. Such are boats, Challenges abound and

not all pleasant.

The pleasant aspect can now commence, heading off to parts, for Sahula, are unexplored; the wild remote coasts of Cape York, Torres Strait, the Gulf and the Northern Territory.

Departure day loomed fine, sunny and no wind. Sahula motored to Double Island off Palm Beach north of Cairns. A lovely spot but in the Cairns airport flight path. Sahula was not yet free. Next day she motored initially then sailed in light winds to Port Douglas to visit friends. Fed and topped up, Sahula left, two nights later, in light winds for Lizard Island.

Initial frustrations at the light winds soon dissipated as the South East Trades gradually increased to 20 knots and above. They sustained their force throughout the night. Sahula romped towards the calm and calming Lizard Island anchorage. Frequent sail changes were required, Mollie, the MPS (spinnaker) to yankee poled out, to furled yankee, two reefs in the mainsail, as the wind changed from light to strong, SW to SE to more easterly. At times curling wind driven wave tops arched into the cockpit.

Iron mammoths being piloted through the Reef squeezed past in the channeled narrowness between reefs and guiding buoys. Sahula often seemed to look steeply up to the ships bridge.

As if these challenges weren't enough, in their midst, a large mackerel was caught with the silver spinner. Luring the fish is the easy part, hauling its reluctance in, ensuring no life giving slack, gaffing its thrashing form aboard, taking its life force in a bloodbath, filleting, all underway on a moving deck, is challenging. The reward is fish, fish and more fish for dinner, lunch and tea.

Steep, jungle clad, cloud topped peaks provided a superb backdrop... They were just as sighted by Captain Cook and his crew. These gentlemen gained our respect as we navigated between reefs that in their day where uncharted and ever threatening. Even the considerable distance from historic Endeavour Reef and their careening in Cooktown was reef strewn.

These thoughts were highlighted by Sahula passing at sunset, the historic replica of the 15th Century, square rigged, Dutch ship, "Duyfken" under full sail. This ship recalled the first recorded visit by Europeans to the Australian coast.

At night Sahula romped on into the inky, pitch black of a moonless starry sky. It made for cautious if not slightly fatalistic, tense sailing. Unseen reefs lurked on all sides. The radar highlighted the islands. Lorraine took half hourly GPS (satellite navigation) fixes and the course hitchhiked the iron mammoths from guiding beacon to beacon. It was not for the faint hearted. .

Sahula seemed driven to seek a calm anchorage. Too driven perhaps as she arrived pre-dusk and hove to till first light. It was a relieved, exhausted but happy crew that joined the cruising fleet anchored in Watson's Bay, Lizard Island.

It is a place of historical tragedy. In the mid 1800's, Mrs. Watson, her baby son and two Chinese servants were left at home alone on the Island by her husband, a bech de mere fisherman. Aboriginals objected to the intrusion. After one servant was killed Mrs. Watson, her baby son and the remaining servant launched a large iron bech de mer boiling pot and drifted to a nearby island (now called Watson Island) where thirst claimed them. The decaying walls of the Watson residence are the sole reminder.

Daybreak revealed an international fleet of 15 yachts. Most are enroute to Darwin to join the Indonesian Rally.

The day passed in sleep, food, rest and recuperation. The overnight coastal sailing had drained Sahula's crew. We planned on staying a day to climb Mt Cook and snorkel.

Next day dawned fine with strong 30 knot trade winds. We traced Captain Cook's ascent of his mountain namesake for fabulous views to the outer ribbon reefs and surrounding islands. A wonder view of mirror clear, azure blue seas, islands and reefs. After a snorkel on the reef a few meters from the boat, we joined our neighbours on the beach for a sunset get together. Conversation on their respective adventures peppered general discussion of boat technics. Politics and suburbia did not enter the reverie.

Does Rudd or Obana exist?

Sahula stayed three days in the delights of Lizard Is. Cook only saw lizard inhabitants, hence the name. He was inured after so long an exploration to the beauty of their habit.

On departure day, Sahula left with 10 white triangles all dotting the horizon on their trek north. It dawned a fine day with now standard, strong trade winds. The lone yankee headsail raced Sahula along the shipping route precariously slotted between the grasping reefs. It was fine sailing.

To starboard the World Heritage Great Barrier Reef, to port the wild vastness of Cape York. Mountains, plains, rivers and beaches only lightly touched. It is amazing in today's crowded world that there exists such a vast wildness. It has the mystique and deserves the reverence of a last frontier.

Soon, Sahula's first wildness anchorage loomed ahead. The high mountainous, midden like, black boulder piles of Cape Melville formed a perfect bay. Sahula was here with the fleet. She churned at the anchor under the wind gusts catapulting across the bay. We watched the sunset over sundowners and sought the warmth of Sahula's saloon. Tonight's dinner expended the last of the hapless mackerel.

A short fast sail to the Flinders Group, through the Owen Channel between these islands and the anchorage in Stokes Bay on Stanley Island. All was calm but for the trade wind bullets rattling the rigging.

Time to build the skipper's technical abilities. The GPS (satellite location) was successfully introduced to the computer's digital chart systems; "Captain Voyager" and "Tsunami." (Sahula has four like systems including C Map and Maxsea.) Capt. Voyager has the advantage of using digitalized naval charts. "This "major" skills advance (its relative) meant that navigation could now be also by digital chart adding the GPS info and position. "Stress" dropped further into the negative.

"Technical" also takes in culinary skills. Sahula's oven produced the first Cape York bread and a cake. Steve (catamaran skipper here) offloaded excess fillets of yellow tuna he caught enroute. Fresh fish again.

>From Flinders continental island, 12 hours away to Morris Islands, a sand, one palm tree, cay, and in between a sail beginning in calms, ending in 25 knot trade winds and the final anchorage in relative calmness. On this remote cay ( to humans only, birds abound), another sad end is evidenced by a lone unmarked grave under a sole coconut tree of a long past trepang diver. Sahula is here with five other yachts. She seems to have joined a fleet to Cape York and to Darwin.

When Sahula anchored next day at Portland Roads settlement, the Danish crew said they'd never sailed for so long in such trade winds. Their wind generator had collapsed from the stress. They and we, logged an averaged of 6.5 knots. Amazing sailing in the relatively calm inner reef seas. Sahula has the bit in her teeth.

Sadly, Portland Roads introduced expensive headland "shacks," giving some sense of the potential Cape York "Gold Coast". To cap it all a big white luxury motor yacht anchored nearby, home port "Southport." At the same time, solo sailor, adventurer, Steve on his Wharram (very basic) catamaran, "Cool Change", came in. A nice contrast. He dropped off another offering of yellow tuna caught today. We are growing "fat" on fresh fish dinners.

Amazing, here in Margaret Bay, Cape Grenville, is Kayitsiz III. We met Oskan and Yilmuz in Cairns. They left a week ahead of Sahula. So we departed the "fleet" for Turkish coffee. As well tonight Sahula hosts our friends and the crew off "Carronade for oysters and tuna. A nice touch to a great days sailing in light Trades while dodging iron mammoths hogging their shipping channel.

Another nice touch is we "risked" the Paluma Passage through the Home Islands. "Risked" is due to the Lucas guidebook highlighting its challenges. These were minor. Fishing sea birds crowded over the mackerel cutting into minnow schools. Sadly, again expensive "shacks" and an airport protruded from a bordering Hicks Island.

The "fleet" moved to nearby Shellburne Bay and drinks on "Carronade" and dinner on Kayitsiz III. "Carronade," presently owned by Neil and Anne, is a wooden Swanson 30 foot Carmen design. In the 70's, she was the first Australian yacht to round Cape Horn. An inspiration to Sahula.

A feature of this far northern seascape is the prevalence of copious wildlife. Dolphin swim alongside, sharks sun in the passing waters, mass flocks of wheeling, diving terns and seagulls. Conversation is only in passing on these graceful creatures. It is crocodiles that take pole position. These lizards dominate through fear. Tales abound of their leaping into dinghies, sweeping children off yacht decks, extracting errant swimmers. It is confirmation of the human willingness to create mythology

out of potential threats. "Potential" was confirmed by our sighting crocodile track above tide at Margaret Bay. No brave sailor wasted anytime when subsequently

, we boarded the dinghies.

Nevertheless, "mythology" reined when Sahula set off to fulfill the skipper's long held wish to climb and see Shellburne Bay's spectacular sand hills. Lorraine remained aboard while the skipper motored ashore to tempt the crocs. The effort was rewarded with views inland across the many high pure white, silica sand hills, perched swamps and the bay. A place well saved from sand mining by a strong conservation effort in the 1980's.

A fast sail next day had Sahula enjoying the release of her first completely calm (wind and water) anchorage since Port Douglas, deep in the Escape River estuary. Navigation here is challenged by the estuary being dotted with pearl farm racks. This was the last anchorage before Cape York.

Certain evidence that Cape York was nigh came overhead when "Coast watch's" red and white plane buzzed low overhead asking Sahula's details and later, similarly, the Customs Patrol vessel.

Tides can be a contrary concept. Sahula escaped the River calmness to strike for the fabled Cape York. Her course took her through the historic Albany Passage. Sahula expected to be flushed through by a 6 knot flood tide. It was not to be, the flood turned into an ebb. A passing trawler advised of the unpredictability of Cape tides. The Passage passed in slow motion. Anchorage was found in Shallow Bay just outside the Passage. The Cape would keep till tomorrow after a visit to Somerset Bay.

Somerset Bay is in the Albany Passage. It was there the Jardine family homestead attracted mail steamers enroute to Sydney from India and Britain. Homestead dinner parties for first class passengers were held with all the "...elegance and dignity.." of an English stately mansion (including tiaras!) (Toghill). Sahula found that only a few "domestic" trees, palms, graves and three amazing old cannons, provide an eerie reminder.

It was onto the Cape. Sahula triumphantly, almost touched it, passing into the anchorage via the narrow boiling tidal passage between the Cape and Eborac Island. Unexpectedly, the Cape was "Pitt Street." Helicopters flew low overhead, crowds of tourists tramped for the lifetime photograph. We did the same. The mystery is where they all came from to reach this seemingly remote place?

Sahula's adventure along the Australian East Coast was over. It has been a marvelous experience. The crew and the ship are more in synch with the task. The task has become more realistic. Sahula now turns west to continue to Darwin and eventually to the Red Sea and Europe.

Readers wishing to enjoy more technical information about sailing this coast should call up the "Sailing Notes - Cairns to Cape York" on this blog site.