In-Flight Refuelling
We got a routine call from the Indian Navy last night, asking vessel, crew and route details. This kind of call is quite standard although I always get a bit nervous for some reason. I thought that they might demand to know why we are in the territorial waters of India, and more pointedly, why were we so close to the strategically located (even more so after the Pakistani attacks against Mumbai last year) Indian controlled Lakshadweep Islands. The VHF officer was extremely professional and ended the call with a note that a Sri Lankan fishing boat had sunk in the area with one crew missing. It was a fairly bumpy night, so we didn’t like his chances, but kept an ear and eye out just in case.
The last four days have been pretty bumpy, and with our busted foresail we have made very slow progress at the expense of lots of engine hours.
When the Navy called back twenty minutes later to ask more details, Joff and I thought we’d try our luck and ask if they could spare some diesel. Sure enough, the professional chap on the VHF was amenable to the idea and after checking sulphur content and price (“No charge. We will give it to you”) arranged a rendez-vous. At this stage, we were almost three hundred miles west of Cochin in a moderate swell so I wasn’t too sure how we would manage this. Would we come along side? Would they launch a boat? Would they expect us to launch our dinghy?
We furled our mainsail as we approached and circled off the stern of the stationary Navy boat. We’d only seen their lights up ‘til now, but up close it was huge! They launched a small inflatable and came along side as I maintained a little way into the wind. On the dinghy floor were two machine guns and more importantly, a hundred litres of diesel in plastic containers. The Navy crew and in particular the chap in charge didn’t seem at all pleased to be sent on this errand in the middle of the night and the barked instructions and unnecessary haste resulted in considerable diesel spillage, but we had our extra fuel and the peace of mind that that gives.
The guy in charge urged me to sign a form (“quickly, quickly!!”) stating that we’d received “technical assistance”. They piled into their inflatable (one guy slipped on the diesel-oil-lubricated side deck and landed on their machine guns) and they were on their way. We swabbed the diesel off the decks (and Joff’s legs) and set off on our way. The friendly VHF officer came back on the radio and wished us a “safe voyage”.
14 September 2009
After the first twenty-four hours of beautiful sailing out of the Maldives, we encountered bumpy seas but also the wind on our nose. This had us sailing or motor sailing close-hauled and heading in ‘not quite the right direction’. The seas have calmed down and we’ve had a fairly steady breeze over the last three or four days and even better, it’s swung around to the west and so we can head exactly where we want to go. We have also made an improvised fix to the foresail roller furler and so (touch wood..) things are looking good.
Our routine is now established. We split the night watch between us into three three-hour shifts. We don’t keep a watch roster during the day but take turns between naps, watching DVDs, reading, or talking rubbish. I’m on a personal mission to get through the thick wallet of DVDs Joff brought across and am happy to report good progress. The roles are also now established. Joff is now ‘chef’ (or ‘mum’ depending on whether he’s already prepared lunch), Nik is ‘the butcher’ (after his heroic efforts with a blunt knife on the first tuna caught) and I have been, errr, ‘promoted’ to ‘steward’, responsible for the preparation of the daily sun-downer drink.
It can be a little depressing watching our progress on the chart plotter although travelling 1,500 miles at jogging pace doesn’t make for exciting viewing. We usually see only one or two ships a day and we are still too far south (I think) to be under the main airplane routes. However, the distance to waypoint (‘DTW’) on the chart plotter is counting down and each night the Ramadan moon gets a little slimmer and rises a little later. We should arrive in Fujairah on the new moon.
We should pass the halfway point tomorrow afternoon and so have a bottle of champagne on ice to celebrate and boost the morale for the remainder of this long passage.
16 September 2009
As we pass the halfway mark on this long trip back from Maldives to UAE, I feel like I should write some sort of summary of my feelings of this whole adventure. It’s been just that, an adventure with a range of experiences and emotions. I don’t think that I could record this bundle of thoughts in one flow, so I thought instead I’d try to capture a few snap shots….
Most satisfying moment: arriving in Chagos; a place we’d never heard of only a year or so prior, and so impossibly remote.
Scariest moment: Waking to find we’d dragged anchor with 15 knots breeze on our beam and finding the stern sandwiching the dinghy against the harbour wall in the very shallow old Nilandhoo harbour and having to re-anchor in near darkness.
Nail biting moment/s: Going through passes in coral reefs, and not being sure how much further the depth meter is going to go down.
Most attitude changing moment: Meeting with professional soldiers (including a Royal Navy submarine driver!) conservationists and diplomats aboard the BIOT patrol boat Pacific Marlin, and seeing (a more convincing) side of Chagos history.
Most changed-opinion experience: Our unplanned side trip to Galle, Sri Lanka. At first I was immensely frustrated that we had to make a 1,000 NM triangle shaped diversion from our route just to satisfy Maldives paperwork. Helped by the fact that the diversion wasn’t too long (four days there, six days back), it turned out to be a really interesting and rewarding stop over.
Biggest buzz: Being able to share this adventure with Helen and the kids; my family, including my mum and sister (who flew into Gan, Maldives); friends Laith and Bernard (crewing on the passage to the Maldives), Joff and Nik (on the passage from the Maldives back to UAE); and also friends via this blog.
18 September 2009
Quite a few flying fish have ‘soared too high’ and ended up ‘sleeping with the fishes’ on the deck against the toe rails. One especially athletic individual bounced off our spray hood and ended up in our washing up bucket! Nik, being the environmentalist (and knowing that they are too bony to eat…) threw him back in the sea. Joff and I captured another one to observe his ‘wings’ before returning him to the seas.
We left the Maldives with about thirty flies from the fly-ridden Male anchorage who managed to stow away despite our mosquito net defences. We’re now down to the last two or three. If they last the next five hundred miles, they deserve a good home in the UAE.
We have passed the usual assortment of oil supertankers and huge container ships and know that the number will only increase as we near Ras Al Hadd. We also passed a wooden dhow – I don’t know how those things stay upright in the Dubai Creek let alone on the high seas.
We also had a chat through our plans, in the unlikely event of a pirate attack. I think that the chances are very slim but after our ‘Fishing Boat Pinball’ adventures off Sri Lanka where you don’t know their intentions, it’s good to have a plan of sorts. Based on Joff and Nik’s shocked expressions, it was probably a good idea that I left this part of the briefing until after the half-way point.
The other day we passed what appeared to be an American navy resupply vessel. As it passed us about a mile to our port, he disappeared completely from our radar. Someone must have accidentally pressed the ‘stealth’ button. A helicopter took off from the rear pad, but didn’t buzz us as expected, but headed in the general direction of Yemen. Oddly enough, that night we saw white and red parachute flares being fired from and at a ship about nine miles off our port quarter. We assumed it was an exercise, but ones imagine can get the best of you out here; attack on a coalition warship…? Pirate attack…? Sinking ship…?
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