Fai Tira blog Monday 7^th February 2011  

On the way to Mumbai 17:38.65N 072:58.50E

It’s coming up to midday on Monday the 7^th of February and we’re due in Mumbai - our now enforced, if exciting, new stop - early tomorrow morning. The latest political developments and reported pirate activity has had the effect of injecting an added nervousness and uncertainty about the next two major passages, not to mention a great deal of secrecy over the movements and timings.

So with this in mind our departure from Cochin was as part of the group that will be formally formed for the sail through the Gulf Of Aden, a decision that would provide plenty of time to practice holding group formations and to iron out any unforeseen wrinkles (that’s got nothing to do with the ages of the crews!)

So at around 10 am on Thursday the 3^rd of February a convoy of six boats: us, Lucy Alice, Enchantress, Bali Blue and Chisl, left the marina at Bolgatty Island and headed out along the coast of India for a 580 mile journey that should take us four days.

From the very start the sea state was calm with just a slight swell. We had enough of a breeze to provide the engine with some sail assistance, even allowing us to switch off for a period and still maintain 5 knots.

This was going to be a personally testing passage for me, as I was having to cope with the sort of bronchial cough that makes breathing difficult, must have picked it up from all that close company train travel.

So for much of the first day I dozed, feeling pretty sorry for myself.

We’d always anticipated that fishing boats would be an issue for such a long costal journey, and so it was.

Mine was the first watch of the trip, and after emerging from an early sleep the initial confusion of lights was hard to fathom, making the other BWR boats difficult to identify.

Eventually the boats dispersed enough for my mind to be able to make some sense of the scene before it and the rest of the convoy became more obvious.

As I came out for my second watch, the sea was still calm and the night clear and windless, the genoa furled away with the main slightly flapping. The BWR boat lights were easy to spot now but still interspersed with enough rogue ones to ensure that vigilance was maintained.

The following day was pretty nondescript. Most of the time was spent motorsailing at about 5 knots in calm seas under hot sunshine, I was still struggling with my out-of- sorts feeling that had me crawling back into my berth at 10am to grab another couple of hours’ sleep.

Then at about 3pm, the sea breezes kicked in and we managed a tranquil period of sailing at about 4 ½ knots.

My night time watch started at midnight, and I emerged into the cockpit coughing and spluttering, the slight improvement of the day seeming to have disappeared.

Good stars though, one of them the shooting variety and the unusual sort that hangs around long enough for a double take but still allows you to see it.

The moon had already dropped below the horizon, so there they were clear, sharp and lots of them (come to think of it, probably the same number that there were last night!)

The light winds were hitting us directly on the nose and we were in choppy seas, travelling with just the main up.

Fishing boats seemed to be in short supply, but the lights of the other BWR boats were all around and the lights of India and Mangalore were just about visible in the background.

Mine was the final watch of the night and it was now Saturday the 5^th and almost daylight as I tumbled into the cockpit.

The boat was still under engine power, but receiving some assistance from an active genoa.

Early on we had a worrying report that Bali Blue had signs of an overheating engine. It was an alert that had us thinking of the possibility of providing a tow. However, the wind picked up, we were all sailing and the immediate problem was averted, but close company was maintained, just in case.

The previous night’s choppy seas had now calmed a bit and we were experiencing a beautiful morning, clear skies with just enough haze to prevent the normally harsh sun from unleashing its full painful hostility, the breeze had enough freshness about it to evoke memories of a gentle English Summer’s day and the sea was a fabulous deep and very clear blue.

Much of the morning was spent considering the potential problems of Bali Blue, participating in the roll call, preparing, cooking and eating pancakes and indulging in guarded celebrations of what seems a slight improvement in my chest cold.

Late in the morning I decided on a stroll, and ended up at the bowsprit (anything more ambitious might just have proved a tad problematic!)

However, what a rewarding destination; our newly-purchased teak viewing platform gleams at you on approach, crying out to be sat on. The newly secured balustrade now wraps round with a confident feel, and once seated the unbelievably clear water is emphasised as the sun’s rays hit the surface and disperse like shards of glass as they penetrate the depths, and the gentle rocking of the boat allowing my dangling feet to brush the surface of the waves. And then the bonus! I looked to might right at what I thought was a largish floating branch only to observe it wriggling at it squirmed away from the bow of the boat. Thankfully it succeeded and I was treated to the magnificent sight of a large drably brown-banded sea snake as it made a hasty escape!

Some of the rest of the day was spent on domestic chores and I strived to return the galley into a state approaching respectability.

I have to admit, now, that I’m not the biggest fan of sailing in convoy and all that goes with it, but during the afternoon I just happened to look over my shoulder. The sun was quite low in the sky its glinting reflecting off the ripples causing a screwed-up squint, the day warm and the breeze light, and what I saw were four elegant-looking sail boats in a line to our rear starboard quarter all equally spaced about ¼ of a mile apart. It looked really impressive and had the effect of instilling confidence for what’s to come.

I was the second watch on that evening, and for some reason sleep hadn’t come easily, perhaps due to the night time return of my cough. I took to the cockpit feeling particularly jaded.

The night sky was dark and clear, and the small weak crescent moon which had put in a brief earlier appearance, had disappeared. The only sail up was the main,  and the headwind was light.

At about 11.30pm the headwind increased in strength up to 15 knots, with the seas becoming rougher, causing the boat to pitch and lose speed. The wind continued to increase, the sea reacting accordingly, with the boat being continually knocked back as it came up against an unforgiving wall of water.

So now, a watch that had at first looked like a walk in the park, was taking on a new perspective, and it got worse!

As I was about to hand over, I thought that I detected a variation in engine revs and a corresponding reduction in boat speed, all sure signs that the fuel filters were running out of capacity. It’s now only a five minute job to make the change and it’s normally the first in line that causes the problem, so we went ahead (why do these things always happen at 2 in the morning?).

We were right:  it took no time at all and with the engine switched off, Peter at the helm and my head in the bilge, the job was complete and we were once more under way, but not for long!

The response to Peter’s application of the throttle was a definite “No” from the engine as it promptly died. We were now in familiar territory, except this time we did have a spare engine filter.

However, I’m not sure if it was down to sleep deprivation, the effects of my rotten chest, or just fumbling around in the dark that caused my brain to fade (no excuses left!): out of the choice of two filters in front of me I went to remove the wrong one. Whenever you do actually want to change an oil filter, it’s often a pain, with the case being screwed on so tight that mutilation is often the outcome. That was just the sort of thing I needed to make me think again, but wouldn’t you just know it: this time it came off a piece of cake. The first time I realised something was wrong was when hot oil started to run through my fingers, and it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to screw it back again. Not the sort of mistake you want at anytime, least of all when all you want to do is sleep.

Anyhow, apart from the mess and extra time, it wasn’t a big deal. The mistake was quickly resolved and the boat underway. Unfortunately there was just one more twist to my now very extended watch. It was decided that with this extra wind, the stay sail would be beneficial and that it ought to be hoisted. That meant a trip forward, firstly to unhook the halyard from the windlass, then to clip on the last clasp and finally pull on a piece of string to hoist it.

By now the deck was constantly awash, and the bowsprit that was so inviting and hospitable earlier in the day, was now a very dark and hostile place, often buried deep under frothing waves.

I was the one wearing a life jacket, so now it was an entirely different sort of stroll that had me climbing out of the cockpit and aiming at the pointy bit and an unwelcome saltwater bath.

The main feature of the rest of the trip was the amazing numbers of fishing boats, once we arrived further inshore, and we encountered them in fleets of 20-30 - all deep trawling - which at night presented what looked like an almost impenetrable wall of light. Perversely, the excitement of the unknown as you approached had the effect of producing a thrill of anticipation about what you might find, all the time knowing and hoping that things would become clearer as you closed.

The final twist of our trip may still hit us. The forecast for the early hours of Tuesday morning is 30 knots of Northerly winds. That’s right down our throats, and we know what the sea state will be like...

Good this sailing lark, innit?!

Roll on Mumbai