Passage Summary and Pictures - Phuket to Sri Lanka
Harmonie
Don and Anne Myers
Sun 18 Mar 2012 10:02
6:01.902N 80:13.676E March 4, 2012 - March 12, 2012 It wasn't our longest passage, or roughest, or calmest, shortest, slowest or even most annoying, but we did experience the worst thunderstorm and navigate around the most fishing boats than ever before, so certainly it was memorable. Below is a photo of our electronic chart showing an overview of the passage: The blue dotted line is our planned route, and the purplish dotted line is our actual track. WP0001 (waypoint 1) is where we started on the west coast of Phuket, Thailand; WP0002 (waypoint 2) marks the channel we used to pass through the Nicobar Islands; and the rest of the waypoints were used to guide us around the southern coast of Sri Lanka to where we are parked in Galle Harbor on the southwest coast. The reason our track deviated so much from our planned route in the beginning (between Phuket and the Nicobars) is because we were trying to sail with the available wind (not always conducive to sailing in the proper direction), and we were trying to avoid thunderstorms. Note the two gaps in the purple dotted line about halfway between Thailand and the Nicobars. These gaps exist because our navigation computer was wrapped up in a dish towel and sitting on a shelf in the oven waiting patiently for the thunderstorms to clear before coming out to play again. After the Nicobars, we deviated north to catch better wind per advice from Bruce, our weatherman. Mostly, our track shows it's just about impossible to go straight from point A to point B when trying to sail. It can be done, and we've done it, but it requires all the stars (and the wind) to be aligned. Here are the vital passage statistics: Total nautical miles traveled - 1,100 Total time - 8 days, 2 hours, 30 minutes Total time sailing - 3 days, 18 hours, 30 minutes (47%) Total time motoring and motorsailing - 4 days, 8 hours (53%) Average speed - 5.7 knots (6.5 mph) Sloooow for us, but we motored slower than usual to conserve fuel. You'd never know we had positive current nearly the whole way, which means we were actually going a good knot slower than 5.7 most of the time. Degrees of latitude traveled - 1.5 to the south (toward the equator) Degrees of longitude traveled - 18 to the west Finally! Closer to home. We are now a mere 9 1/2 hours ahead of EST. Lowest wind - 2.5 knots (2.9 mph) Highest wind - 18 knots (21 mph) We did see wind up to 30 knots during some of the thunderstorms, but we were too busy trying not to get hit by lightening to officially record the wind speed. Lowest cabin temperature - 81F (2 in the morning, second night out from Phuket) Highest cabin temperature - 91F(3 in the afternoon, one day out from Sri Lanka) Number of near calamities - 4 Almost pumped all of our fresh water (550 liters) into the bilge and out to sea, one autopilot refused to speak to us for a few hours, the generator burped and died briefly, and the main sail jammed while un-furling during our last night (we were able to furl it back in and un-jam the jam in daylight the next morning before arriving in Galle). Number of exceptional challenges - 2 Too much lightening and too many Sri Lankan fishing boats. Number of dinners consisting of microwaved frozen casseroles - 4 Number of trips to the lee rail - Don - 0, Anne - 0! (sign of a calm passage) Number of seasickness pills consumed - Don - 0, Anne - 0! Number of flying fish on deck - 1 Life spared by Don who flipped him back into the water in the nick of time. Number of dolphin sightings - 4 Excellent! This is what an approaching storm looks like on the ocean. It's not something we love to see. The symptoms include huge, tall cloud build-ups; nearly black cloud underbellies; swathes of dark patches stretching down from cloud belly to the horizon indicating heavy rain (as seen to the left of center and to the far right in this photo); rumbles of thunder, flashes of lightening; and in this case, the start of a water spout (mini-water tornado). Pointing down from the cloud in the center of this photo is a very dark, small finger. A full water spout formed shortly after this picture was taken (very difficult to catch with the camera). The dark finger stretched down from the cloud bottom to the horizon, lingered for a moment, then disappeared. You wouldn't want to be caught in a water spout as the wind speeds are high, but they usually don't last long after hitting the water because their energy dissipates quickly upon contact with the ocean surface. Still, it's not comforting to see a water spout on the horizon. Don did find it fascinating though. I celebrated when it disappeared. This photo was taken in the afternoon of day 2. We spent most of that afternoon skirting around lines of storms like this one, and aside from a bit of rain and a little thunder and lightening, we did well. It wasn't until about 9:00 that night that things started to go all pear-shaped (Brit-ism translation: go downhill in a big way). We were still skirting the afternoon's line of thunderstorms, when a second line showed up on radar to the northeast of us. The parade of thunderstorm lines in the area were traveling slowly from northeast to southwest, and they were huge, covering miles of ocean, so it was difficult to clear them quickly because we were traveling slowly west. As darkness fell, we found ourselves sandwiched between two lines of storms that were slowly merging into one, squeezing us into the middle. There was no way to get out, so we chose what we thought was the path of least resistance (less lightening), and motored straight under a cloud bank. It wouldn't have mattered which direction we chose to go at that point because it was the same all around us. As soon as we were under the nearly black clouds, the wind picked up and rain started lashing down. We had already pulled all the sails in, battened all the hatches down and put the essential electronic equipment into the oven (navigation and communication computers, satellite phone, handheld VHF radio, etc., etc) because we knew it was going to be ugly. We closed the companionway so no water would go below. Don sat at the wheel and kept a close eye on the engine gauges while I hovered next to him in the cockpit. The rain pelted us and we cringed as huge thunder claps and lightening strikes went off directly over our heads and all around us. It was not awesome. It was terrifying. The only good thing we can say is the lightening strikes happened so fast, they were over before our brains had a chance to register they happened at all. This was good because we knew we didn't get hit almost before we knew a lightening strike occurred. The combination of rain slamming down and cracks of thunder overhead was ear splitting. We couldn't see anything and the radar was overwhelmed with feedback from the rain, so it told us nothing. We were stumped as to which way to go to get out of the storm center quickly. We tried several directions before settling on a slow motor south. The intensity of the storm finally started to diminish as it passed over us, painfully slowly. We were so focused on the immediate situation, we lost track of time and have no idea how long we were the filling of this particular thunderstorm sandwich. Forty minutes maybe? All I know is when things finally calmed down and I went down below to change out of my soaked clothes, I discovered the pair of shorts I was wearing had gaping holes across the back. I don't know when this happened or why. All I know is my shorts were fine before the storm, and trashed after. Odd (and annoying -they were one of my favorites!). Don holding my blown-out thunderstorm sandwich shorts. Everything brightened the next day when the thunderstorms cleared and the dolphins came to play. Motorsailing into an amazing sunset. Sailing at sunrise while Don adjusts the mizzen traveler. Laundry day. Galle Harbor, Sri Lanka. Home of the flimsy blue plastic floaty dock thing. We arrived outside Galle Harbor at 9am local time (which is 1 1/2 hours behind Thailand time…not sure what happened to that 1/2 time zone?) on March 12. We contacted our agent (agents are required when checking into and out of Sri Lanka) when we were 30 minutes away, and he called the Sri Lankan Navy and the Galle Harbor Master on our behalf. We were then instructed, very firmly, by the Harbor Master not to enter the harbor until we were boarded and inspected by a navy escort. We set the anchor down and duly waited about an hour for a wooden skiff in need of repair to deliver two very young, very polite navy men to Harmonie. We took them down below and they opened lockers and poked around a bit. After a little chat, it seemed all was well and they indicated we could proceed into the harbor. They stayed aboard and helped direct us into our designated spot on the flimsy blue plastic floaty dock thing. After the navy men left us, our agent and his assistant arrived, joined twenty minutes later by the health inspector. Once he saw we weren't sick, and didn't have any dead bodies aboard, he gave us our official health certificate. Next, after another thirty minutes or so, we were joined by three immigration officers. Several forms were filled out including one proclaiming we had no stowaways (really, we didn't), everything was stamped with our official Harmonie stamp (well worth the $15 we paid for it at Staples), and off they went. Another 30 minutes, two customs officials, and several forms later, and we were done. The whole process took four hours to complete, but was painless. The worst of it was we were both sleep deprived after dodging hundreds of fishing boats along the Sri Lankan coast the night before, and it was a calm, sunny day with a heat index of 312. We could barely keep our eyes open while we sat and waited in the cockpit with our agent and sweated profusely in our meeting-with-officials-clothes. After clearing in, our first order of business was to re-anchor the boat. Our hasty arrival with the navy men aboard left us wondering just how set the anchor really was, so we let go the stern lines, pulled up the anchor and dropped it further away from the dock in hopes of more secure holding. It worked perfectly until we ran out of anchor chain about 15 meters away from the dock. Oops. Up came the anchor for a third try. This time all went well. It wasn't until several hours later when the wind came up that we found ourselves, not just hitting the dock with our stern, but sitting up on top of it with our stern. This was one of a very few times we were actually happy to be tied to a flimsy plastic dock thing - something more sturdy might have done damage. As it was, the only thing damaged was our pride. It didn't appear our anchor had dragged, just that the chain had stretched out enough to send us back a few meters into the dock. We took some anchor chain in to pull us away from the dock, hoped for the best, and fell into bed. As far as we know, all was fine until the next morning when it happened again. The wind came up, stern up on the dock, we motored forward, pulled in more chain, and again hoped for the best. Doesn't it figure the wind continued to build that day, up to 25 knots at times, and right on the beam, putting as much pressure as possible on the anchor. The boat was surging back and forth a good four or five feet, the bow twisting left, then right with each surge. We added stern lines for a grand total of five, three tied to rocks instead of the unstable dock. We watched the wind, watched the boat, watched the dock, held our breath, all was fine. It wasn't until our third day in Sri Lanka that we felt comfortable enough to leave the boat for a few hours to go into town. Good thing too because our fruit and veg provisions were down to three eggs, half a cabbage and one tomato at that point. Since then, all has been fine, but we've scrapped plans for a 3-day trip inland. We just don't feel comfortable leaving the boat for that long. Instead, we've been doing half-day tuk-tuk trips around Galle, which will have to do. When traveling around in your house, the safety of your house comes first. There aren't often disadvantages to traveling by boat, but sometimes a place is more easily visited by land than by sea. Sri Lanka unfortunately happens to be one of those places. Don demonstrating the proper boat-to-dock transfer method: step in the dinghy while simultaneously pushing off from the stern of the boat, coast to the dock, grab hold, and as gracefully as possible, roll out of the dinghy onto the moving, bouncing, swaying, jerking, completely unstable flimsy blue plastic floaty dock thing. The dock looks stationary in this picture, but a still photograph doesn't really do its jerky motion justice. We decided to keep the stern of the boat well away from the dock in order to avoid future stern-on-top-of-dock episodes. As a result, the dinghy boat-to-dock method is the only way to get ashore. Every time we walk down the dock, we feel like drunken sailors. It's impossible not to weave and wobble as the dock jerks and sways every time the boats surge in unison. The rusted cleats on the dock are so poorly attached, one of them popped off and plopped into the water when our neighbor's big steel boat surged and gave it a tug. Doesn't build confidence in the dock set-up, does it? This is why you see so many lines crossing the dock to points on shore instead. Certainly it's better to tie your boat off to a rock on shore, but the spider's web of moving lines makes our drunken sailor's wobbling walk down the dock that much more challenging. So - one Indian Ocean passage down, three to go. Our next passage will probably start a week from Monday (March 26, 2012). We are hoping to sail straight from Sri Lanka to Chagos without stopping in the Maldives for fuel…but it will depend on the sailing conditions (or lack thereof). The reason we are concerned about fuel is because our supply will have to last through two passages (Sri Lanka to Chagos, 835 miles; and Chagos to Mauritius, 1,300 miles) plus cover running the generator every day for 28 days to charge the batteries in uninhabited Chagos. If we sail and don't motor through most of the two passages, we'll be fine, but that's a tall order given we'll be traveling through the doldrums on either side of the equator - an area notorious for unreliable wind. We'll see how it goes. If we have to stop in Gan, Maldives, we'll stop just long enough to re-fuel. Between now and March 26, we'll continue to see a bit of Sri Lanka and eat lots of Sri Lankan food. So far it's been fantastic. The people are friendly and always willing to help, so the rest of our time here should be very pleasant as long as the weather and blue plastic dock hold. More late next week on our travels around Galle, Sri Lanka. Anne |