Fai Tira blog Friday 12^th November

Heading for Palau Belitung 05:40.47S 112:07.19E

We are now into our third day of sailing since leaving Bali, under full sail in about 15-20 knots of easterly wind making about 6 ½ knots of speed and travelling in the direction of Belitung and our eventual destination at Nongsa Point on the island of Batam just 15 miles South of Singapore.

Just a little time for reflection.

I suppose we did get a glimpse of the real Bali, albeit a bit watered down and corrupted by exposure to the 21^st century, although there were always going to be enough good things, if you pursued them. That’s what we did, and it made this one of those places where our short visit was not quite long enough.

There’s no doubt that any memories that linger about Benoa, the marina and surrounding area, will be less than endearing. However, there were enough good ones and it will be those of the highlights that definitely dominate. The ones of the overnight trip on Fai Tira to the island of Lembongan, and the cycle ride across the Meccano-like bridge that looked for all the world like it had been the product of a children’s version of Scrapyard Challenge. Then there was the evening and exotic dancing on the trip to Ulu Watu temple. It was built around an ancient mythical story, complete with fabulously colourful costumes, chanting, and elegant dancers;  just spoilt a little in the end by the circus slapstick, seemingly introduced for the benefit of the visitors. And then there was the three day trip to the interior, the fantastic scenery, the unbelievable art work in stone, wood, cloth, silver and canvas, produced in staggering quantities over such a wide geographical area; The superb architecture and setting of the massive temple at Besakih;  our superb accommodation in a beautiful tranquil setting flanked by paddy fields; and the massive colourful rabbit warren of a market on 4 levels, accessed by a number of insignificant alleys squeezed down the side of designer shops and flowery craft outlets. And not least of all, was the pummelling Jeremy and I received at a local massage parlour at the hands of some very nimble ladies.....Great!

We eventually left the marina late on Sunday in the company of the folk on Sol Maria, a sleek and large catamaran, for an overnight sail north along the south of the Bali ‘mainland’ coast, to an anchorage just outside the reef at the small island of Menjangan.  Surprisingly, we kept close company for much of the trip as we headed for Salat Bali the narrow stretch of water separating Bali from the large island of Java. Time constraints and the current volcanic activity had some effect on a change of plan that had us by-passing any attempt to visit Java.

It was early morning as we reached the entrance to this busy and filthy stretch. Both boats were still in close company at this stage, but as soon as we began to struggle, battling against the 3 knot current, the cat holding a tighter and more shallow course showed its true colours and effortlessly disappeared. We were both still under power, as we had been from the start, but the swirling current was throwing our deeper keeled boat in all directions, as was I, as I tried in vain to avoid the debris of what looked like a large landfill site at sea.

The next hour or so became even more demanding as we entered the busy shipping area between the islands. I had by now disengaged the tiller pilot in an attempt to seek calmer water, but was still struggling with direction. It meant that leaving the helm was out of the question, and Pete was left slumbering at a point when he’d wanted to be involved. His eventual emergence coincided with our passage’s simultaneous intersection with about 5 large lumbering vessels..... Great fun!

The muck in the water stayed with us right through to the anchorage and at one time caused us to make a large avoiding course correction, but even that couldn’t prevent the snagging of a rope that wrapped itself round the propeller. The cutter worked, but it just seemed to add to the ongoing transmission noise problems that are preventing the use of any more than1200 engine revs.

Although Pete enjoyed a dive he’d arranged with Brian and Sheila off Miss Tippy, I found this place pretty uninspiring, apart from the view of the magnificent 14^th century waterside Hindu monument mounted on the headland, seen as the corner was turned into the bay entrance. Then during a stormy, bumpy and generally hairy trip with Jeremy, accompanying Gavin off Sol Maria in his seemingly Ferrari-powered dinghy, in order to pay national park fees, it rained so hard that we actually lost sight of land and got so wet that the mobile ‘phone in my pocket expired. Then during lunch, whilst we waited for the sea to calm down, I came across a dead fly in my food, at their equivalent of a greasy spoon (I suppose it could have been worse I could have found half of one) Anyhow it might not surprise you that, for me, leaving this place was far better than arriving!

The prospect of long sea passages is always a bit daunting, there always seem to be many unknowns. However, on this occasion there were fewer than usual. It was bound to be extraordinarily hot, the winds were almost certain to be light, and heat plus fatigue and boredom were very likely to produce tiredness, so there was every prospect that this would turn out to feel a very long 700 miles and 4 nights at sea.

The first day was short, we left quite late. The other certainty was that with land this close, early on, we were never likely to be alone. However, even that knowledge didn’t prepare us for the sight before us in the early morning light of the second day.

I was about to take over watch at 6 am. A large vessel was approaching on a course that looked too close and its progress commanded our attention. It took just a short while to sort out the evasive action. It was then, as our concentration returned to the journey, that we became aware of the fishing boats. What we saw was startling, unbelievable and unforgettable. This was an armada of fishing boats, they were travelling in an easterly direction at almost 90 degrees to ours. They were the typical brightly coloured small wooden traditional type, with outriggers. Some were powered by small triangular sales and others gave off the distinctive chug of a single cylinder diesel engine. There were far too many to count and we were now in their midst. At one stage, it seemed like we were surrounded by many hundreds, and with, at least, twice as many more speckling the distant horizons, the scene was astounding.

It was impossible to steer round them. So we adopted the attitude that as they could clearly see us, and providing we held course, they would do the avoiding.

It worked brilliantly and we were treated to many close encounters as the novel attraction of our boat had the smiling and waving crews directing their crafts within feet as they passed.

Just think, I suspect that this happens every morning and is probably their version of the M25. What a fabulous commute and what a privilege to have seen it.

The weather, for the most part remained very hot, but I did get it wrong about the winds. Although, for most of the time we’ve been motor sailing, our third day was punctuated by squalls triggering off easterly winds of 25-30 knots. It lasted for a big chunk of the day causing a hasty reef-down of all the sails to balance the boat.

I was right about the company though and during the day the sight of other boats helped to break the boredom. However, night time was something else. There was no time for relaxation. Almost as soon as the light disappeared, lights emerged in every direction at indeterminable distances, some were glaringly bright and some just pin pricks. The only thing obvious was that they were all most likely fishing boats.

It was during one of these watches that I experienced, what I think, was my most testing period so far:

As I took over, I was confronted with the usual array of lights, requiring for my confused senses a period of adjustment. The wind - which up until this point had been reasonable and consistent - started to die and move around and I contemplated firing up the engine.

A particularly bright light on the port bow attracted most of my attention. It was difficult to judge its distance and we were heading pretty much for it.

I also noticed a distant red light on the starboard beam that seemed to be keeping pace with us but gradually closing on an apparently diagonal course.

At this stage we were still under sail. The bright starboard light was still the focus of my main attention. However, I was now becoming aware of the restriction of port side manoeuvrability as the red light closed dramatically. It was now definitely time to start the engine. The red light belonged to a large fishing boat. It was still travelling in our direction, but now very close and getting nearer. During the seconds it took to leave the helm to disconnect the auto pilot, Fai Tira turned right and I could see the crew moving around on the deck of the now illuminated fishing boat. Although I was still not sure of their intentions, they turned abruptly left and headed directly at us, causing me to respond accordingly, an action that put us on a heading for the bright port light (If my cardiologist had taken my pulse at that time, I think he would have called up air/sea rescue).

The port fishing boat eventually crossed our stern with just yards to spare.

The bright light on the left went out to be replaced with limp yellow ones, provoking more confusion of the senses, although the bobbing nature was a good indication of their proximity..... It wasn’t very far. And as the deck lights went on I could now clearly see the outline of two large fishing boats and their crew as they moved off towards us, again passing close to our stern.

The briefings had warned us of this type of action, which is their way of off-loading bad spirits on to the target boat. However, just because you know what it might be, being alone in the cockpit in the middle of the night with all this going on is more than a little nerve-wracking.

Should be there tomorrow,,,,,, can’t wait for a rest!

 John