Experiencing Seychelles resources

The Seychelles: steep-sided granite islands with fascinating runnels in the boulders peculiar to this island group; amazingly and surprisingly covered with dense luxuriant growth (what can support such robust plant-life as a growth medium in those rocks?); fringed by reefs and hence in many cases inaccessible to yachts; beautiful beaches of fine, soft, dense-packed white sand offering perfect photo opportunities for that ubiquitous “white sand, blue sky, boulder and shady tree” picture of the travelogues. The shady trees are generally coconut palms or the local takamaka tree, wide-spreading, with big leaves and an apparent love of sand and salt water!

The extended Seychelles group sits on a plateau only about 40m deep. Thus the seas from outside this plateau are accelerated onto the “bank”, providing potential for challenging waves and currents. Add to this the fact that with so many small islands interrupting the flow one finds odd patterns arising as the sea channeled round the top of an island meets that channeled round the bottom. Then add the fact that the tall islands have impact on the wind patterns which also affect the wave movement… we mention all this to provide background for the news that we have experienced really odd swell/wave motion on many occasions, both while travelling between the islands and when on anchor… the worst being in Port Launay (on Mahe Island)where we recently found ourselves swinging wildly and erratically, no doubt affected by the tide, the general sea motion in the bay, and the wind which has the channel and two gaps between peaks to whistle through. At least we never became bored with our ever-changing view… and the anchor held well, although we were up several times nightly to check!

So here we are, 6 weeks into experiencing this heaven, having just completed a circuit to take a look at some different islands and beaches…. and still learning how to do things! So, for example, take “getting to the beach”. All of our experiences until recently were in calm seas where gaps in the reef were obvious and easily accessible, making it easy to get the dinghy or croc to a gentle grounding.

Then there was the time when Irene needed a haircut. This required identifying (no, not an appropriate salon, but…) a remote, un-peopled beach where Monsieur Rolf could brandish his scissors with aplomb and no fear of covering the boat with hair that would keep turning up for weeks. So, a magnificent quiet beach was found on Felicite Island where we anchored for two days. From the boat, we could see the reef and the on-shore swell but it all looked manageable. Putting our kit and camera into a dry bag, we set off on the yellow inflatable canoe (the croc), paddling with great skill and rhythm towards the beach area, making adequate use of the swell to take us in smoothly. Sounds good….? Well it started that way but ended with us being side-swiped by a wave from the back that tossed Irene out from her aft perch and she rolled in, bouncing on the reef rock (which fortunately, in this area, was smooth and not sharp coral) while Rolf managed to hold himself and the boat in check. After a calming snack and a foray into the coconut palms to plunder our next smoothie-bases, the hair was sufficiently dry and received its styling. The return journey was considered with some trepidation (see photo below) but we walked out over the rock confidently, Irene (in front) holding the nose of the trusty vessel into the waves as Rolf stabilised from the rear. Take #2: Sounds good….? Well it started that way but ended up with Rolf stepping into (and almost disappearing down) a hole in the rock requiring Irene to gallantly power the croc out through the waves from her perch up forward this time… and waiting for Rolf to swim out to where she could hold the boat and not be pushed back to shore! Damage? Mainly dignity and pride on both counts.
The second learning experience was dinghy-based: getting to Anse (Beach) Lazio on Praslin Island necessitated firstly a 45 minute dinghy trip, crossing open sea for part of it (a jaunt to be approached with more caution in future…) then beaching the boat in waves larger than anticipated (fortunately no rocks). While the final outcome of the landing was successful, it says nothing of the almost-overturning that Rolf (after first getting us into it…!) managed to skillfully avoid: the result was that the watching beach-loungers witnessed a slewing boat and water waves over the side, resulting in a drenched Irene. Our time on this beach was spent in the beautiful environment seen below. So plans were laid for the departure and involved using four local young men (swimming at the time) to help us get the dinghy out through the breakers: they just had to hold it firm and pointed into the waves. They appeared to understand, and they appeared resolved. The first wave hit and they all gasped and relinquished their hold! Nonetheless, most of them recovered and we got the boat out (all very drenched this time), Rolf boarded it and motored it hastily out to smoother water… and Irene had to swim out to it (after, let it be said, being the one at the front who had the most firm grip on the boat…!).
Experiences under the water are always rewarding (referring, in this case, to the planned under-water experiences, i.e. snorkelling / diving!). Although the coral has been very disappointing in some areas (compared with some of the SA coral gardens at Sodwana, the Cape and Aliwal: here we have seen enormous tracts of dead, broken coral albeit with some small signs of recovery), we have also seen many areas where the coral is plentiful, healthy and handsome, although there is little in the way of the soft corals. Just swimming off any rocky point takes one to an underwater world with unusual and spectacular topography and general structure, often being a continuation of the boulders under water and hence the “runnels” in the boulders become crevasses decorated with picturesque coral in which the fish feed and flourish. Strangely, even in the dead-coral tracts the fish-life is absolutely awesome, resulting in our seeing new fish every time we venture into their world. Every reef area has large numbers of a huge variety of fish type as well as offering rays, eels, white-tip reef sharks, a school of trumpet fish, giant bump-head parrotfish, sea stars, needle fish, turtles and many of the regular reef fish that grow very large in this environment which (as evidenced by the gunge that grows on the hulls of our boat) is extremely nutritious.

Snorkelling from Ketoro off “Haircut Beach” produced, as well as the usual lovely reef fish, a great sight of 8 spotted eagle rays flying in formation under us, many box-type jellyfish (scary) and a pair of hawksbill turtles. The boat frequently invites a variety of fish seeking shade and food: the butterfly fish in common mooring areas have become accustomed to people and are very large and very bold and …. intimidating!! The photo below looks down on numerous boat-lovers in attendance. One area also has sucker fish (ramoras?) that latch onto the bottom of our hulls and feast on whatever is on offer; unfortunately these fish also strip off a layer of anti-foul paint from the hulls but look too scary so we do not dare get close to them to knock them off!!
To identify other snorkelling or dive spots, we investigate where the day trippers are taken; thus we found our way to Cocos Island, a tiny round boulder island which sees hordes of visitors paying dearly for the trip there. The snorkelling in much of the area is unusual in that the water is no more than a metre deep over stone and rock and the fish are all quite accustomed to the presence of people in their space. Most of the tourists (we have seen mainly German, French and Italian in our time in the Seychelles) wade bare-foot over the rocks, to our horror: we saw a very sinister-looking stonefish (very poisonous) in those same rocks, not 2m from a barefoot visitor.

When there are only two of you on the boat, the opportunities to dive are limited as we must dive as a buddy pair – which leaves the boat unattended at the dive site. However, when we see a commercial dive boat hovering over an area we do all we can to identify the exact spot and recently had an excellent dive from the dinghy (which we are happy to anchor casually and leave unattended). We dropped the anchor in exactly the right place using estimated GPS coordinates and bearings to land references and a portable fish finder to identify the depths. The most notable memory from this dive was a ray (let us repeat: RAY where the capitals indicate extent of our awe for this fellow)… looking like a large mound on the sea bed, Rolf and I simultaneously saw this monster of 3m diameter and more-than a metre tall (deep? thick?) beast with a short stubby tail and eyes the size of saucers. We backed off very quickly and maintained a very respectful distance! Far more unnerving than the various shark encounters, which we think (hope) have been reef sharks and not particularly aggressive. Shark encounters are always tinged with some apprehension, however, as we obviously snorkel above them (not a good place to be as they generally feed upwards, we believe). Just a point: the movies always have the “Jaws” music accompanied by the sight of a fin slicing through the water… we have, in all our sightings, never seen a fin above water but seen plenty at greater depths!

Of course, some of the fish species find their way to peoples’ plates. In our case we seem to be landing only Bonita (a type of tuna) so are becoming creative with our ways of presenting this fish and tolerant of the lack of fish variety in our diet. We have seldom put in a line and not caught anything: these waters are teeming with fish and we are grateful for this resource. A few days ago we left an anchorage at 6:30 am and by 9:30 had 4 Bonita in the freezer or prepared for dinner! The process is not without its potential dangers: whilst underway (visualise the boat rocking and rolling, even though Irene gets the speed down to about 2 knots or slower) Rolf must first secure the fish (lasso round the tail, the non-toothed end), kill it quickly, gut it and cut it up into steaks or fillets while standing on the bottom step of the sugar scoop … not falling off it into the sea nor cutting himself or attaching himself to a hook.

We were awe-struck to see a most magnificent sailfish at the end of our line some time ago; it gave a stunning display of tail-walking on the water before, happily, shaking off our lure and returning to the deep. We did not really want to land one of those magnificent creatures. Some flying fish throw themselves at us and we find them looking (dead and) surprised on deck in the morning. They are bony and scrawny and not to be eaten but make for good viewing as they leave the water at the side of the boat and fly away, looking from behind like little biplanes, and fly often for a few hundred metres, curving and banking before re-entering the sea.

We have recently made full and happy use of another of the Seychelles resources: rain. Our water-maker, bought at a cost of just under $12 000.00 and previously providing 60l per hour of desalinated water, has packed up. Negotiations are underway for repair/replacement of parts (under warranty) but meanwhile we must make do with what we have. Fortune (and not the sun) smiled on us… it rained. It bucketed down in squalls for a number of days … so out came all the buckets we could find and we filled the tank (see below). The process was repeated several times and we kept our tank full with the pure stuff from the sky!
Speaking of on-board resources: the toilets don’t work so well in the early mornings! Strange? Well, they are electric (have a pump and a macerator in the (very narrow) pipe which exits the bowl) and are very voltage-dependant. This is how the power works on the boat: we have a battery bank which at best sits on 13V and 100% capacity. Everything electrical draws from it and, if not charged by our motoring (e.g. if we purely sail or are sitting at anchor) we must charge it with the generator. So we monitor the voltage and capacity most carefully and generally have to run the genset in the late afternoon to charge up the batteries sufficiently to get us through the night (since fridge, freezer, anchor light, fans, toilet circuits all drain the batteries overnight too). It would appear that the toilet motors are very voltage dependant: if the loo is required in the early hours one hears the pump motor straining to clear the flush water, whereas when batteries are full the loos clear with a flourish!

Things of which one is not aware when living on land unless you monitor your consumption very carefully… a small fridge and freezer draw 14 amps (when the compressors are running…. and the more they are opened and closed, the more work the compressors must do), hair dryers simply do not get used as they will fry the batteries (who needs hairdryers anyway!?), the same applies to the microwave unless used on very low wattage setting, while charging notebook computers is also very draining. Hence, to use many of these things it is best to be running the motors/genset or be on shore power! We also have a clothes washer-dryer… an indulgence which has proved to be very useful although we generally only use it when on shore as the rate at which it consumes our two most valuable resources (fuel/power and water) is alarming. Nonetheless, we have found the most economical setting and that gets used occasionally while travelling …. but only when motoring and with the genset on so that the water maker may be run simultaneously!

We have returned to the Wharf Marina near Eden Island and Victoria to enjoy flat seas for sleeping and working, shore power, shore water and the chance to see Mahe on land! Irene is taking the opportunity to return to SA for a visit (friends and family in Pretoria area) and undertake a giant shopping spree for unobtainable or horribly expensive foodstuffs and pharmaceuticals …. in readiness for the next leg, to the uninhabited islands of Chagos.

Christmas in the Seychelles

After all the wonderful looking forward, anticipating Christmas with the family in the Seychelles, we now look back.… on the most amazing, marvelous time of celebration and fun with our family. While the boys thought they had landed in their own “Boys Own Annual” the girls had as much fun from watching their antics as participating in their own.

So, a day in the life of a boy on the water: wake early, pull up anchor, get fishing rods prepared in their stands, munch on a healthy breakfast quickly because you are about to start pulling them in! Gut and fillet the fish (someone else is controlling the boat meanwhile….. normally a girl….!) then sit back and open your first beer: although it is only 9:30am you have done a good days work already! After a bit of sailing, anchor off a pretty beach, swim and eat your fish for lunch, done on the braai (this IS a South African boat!).

Not long thereafter, sail to your final destination, hop in the water and snorkel before sundowners on the foredeck… generally blessed with the most spectacular sunsets. Days may be varied by throwing in a beach walk, paddling the inflatable Croc around the shallows, adding in a scuba dive off a spectacular island, eating your tuna as a steak or fillet or lasagne or fish cakes instead of kebab, for example! Days always ended with boys washing dishes.... their contribution to the galley (as well as providing the protein!)

Meanwhile, how do the girls pass these hours on the boat? Resting and reading in between passing across the necessary fishing support instruments, enjoying the sailing and the odd dolphin, snorkelling, beach-walking, sundowners and passing some incredibly creative hours in the galley (more of that later). All enjoyed the freedom offered by the dinghy and the croc and the fact that you never had to swim far from Ketoro to snorkel in a spectacular marine environment where we saw rays, turtles, giant bull-nose parrot-fish, eels and occasional sharks on top of a plethora of the usual beautiful reef fish. The photos give an idea of the fun we all had.

Soon after the kids all arrived we set about decorating the Christmas tree (a family tradition). Necessity stimulated creative thinking in this regard: Rolf dutifully provided two cardboard bases from beer-cases from which a tree was fashioned, standing in beach sand from our first over-night stop, covered in silver paper and plenty of pretty shells collected in Madagascar and the Seychelles. Christmas lunch was spent at a lovely restaurant overlooking the main beach, Anse Volbert, on Praslin Island and the days thereafter were passed anchored off Praslin, Curieuse and La Digue Islands. The latter provided opportunity to hire bicycles and cycle round the island, a wonderful experience particularly when coming upon a giant tortoise strolling (as tortoises do) towards you on the road! Barry kept his foot away from the tortoise's beak.... but then relented and gave it a stroke. Seychelles has thousands of the these huge, wonderful creatures, who love to have their shells scratched and necks rubbed (Irene being happy to oblige, but standing far from them, with recent wounds inflicted by a Madagascan tortoise fresh in her mind!)

New Year’s Eve was passed in the National Marine Park off Curieuse Island. After a quick beach sundowner among the spectacular granite rocks on the beach, we ate great paella on the boat, bathed by a full moon, supported by much wine, champagne and other liquid refreshment. We (and the yachts around us) had unusual company in the form of two boats: a charter schooner that looked just like Johnny Depp’s pirate boat… and a Seychelles Coast Guard boat. So the start of 2010 was heralded by brilliant red flares (illegal but beautiful!) and of course a midnight swim in the black water. I am still unsure of the reason for the boys’ not requiring costumes for their swim, and even more unsure of their reasons for wanting to shoot the pirate boat (or alternatively the Coast Guard boat) with the paint-ball gun. Fortunately some measure of sanity prevailed and they simply went across to visit the “pirate boat” with a bottle of Vodka and the story that they had wanted to shoot them (or share a drink). The German charter party thought them most amusing, schlurring away on the dinghy but declined to invite them on board! Thank heavens they did not try the Coast Guard boat….

(Note the moon behind us....)

Having the four “children” on board with us for two weeks was an absolute treat. They put up (uncomplainingly) with cramped, wet conditions, heat and humidity, little own space, little own time, sometimes sea sickness, sometimes rolly anchorages, sometimes tense anchoring or berthing procedures; they absolutely embraced the cruising way of life and added a new dimension and perspective to our enjoyment of it all. They helped us wherever they could and the girls particularly were marvelous in the galley, bringing forth culinary masterpieces when all they had to work with was left-overs and some scrawny veg! They need to collaborate on a Cook-Book for yachties!

Good-byes are always terrible and for a couple of days we were left at a loss; for so many months we had looked forward to this experience and it proved to be everything we dreamed of. Now we have exceptional memories and promises of other journeys together.

Before then, we will investigate other islands and try to make the Seychelles our own…. We are finding that as we talk to more people and learn how a place works – where to get stuff, how to deal with local practices and peculiarities, what to take seriously and what to ignore, when and where the good things happen, etc. a feeling of ‘belonging’ quickly develops. After a break of almost 40 years, we have re-discovered the art of hitch-hiking – buses take too long and taxis are too expensive and not nearly as interesting; chance encounters with a broad cross-section of locals, re-living memories of carefree travelling on the back of a truck with sun in your face and wind in your hair and dirt on your clothes! What the Seychellois must think of these two ageing delinquents walking the main roads – with dark tans and Rolf’s scruffy clothes (at least he had a recent haircut at Salon Ketoro), we surely look like a pair of hobos.

Almost all encounters with people in the Seychelles have left us with a feeling of wellbeing and I think this must reflect the general state and mood of this society. (This does not apply to waiters – who without exception are bad at their jobs or grumpy, or both.) We had often heard of people staying many months in the Seychelles and being very sad when finally having to leave; and had wondered at this because surely the finite number of islands and island activities must pale after a while. Perhaps it is the people and the mood of the islands that gets to you.

The reported very high crime (claimed by other yachties) – particularly theft from boats - has not been experienced by us, nor have we heard of incidents while we have been here and this perhaps encourages the feeling of goodwill we currently enjoy.

We had also heard reports of very high prices and this is certainly true, particularly in the tourist restaurants and hotels. Surprisingly, shopping is somewhat ‘third world’ with small shops, each stocking an eclectic mix of goods, scattered throughout town. Provisioning, as in Madagascar, becomes a tiring exercise… getting to town (foot), carrying parcels from shop to shop and returning burdened. Then there is the issue of obtaining certain goods and the quality thereof. A case in point: nowhere can you buy brown or whole-wheat flour for bread, so when I spotted multi-grain bread in a shop I asked to buy some flour from them. When I declined to buy a 25kg bag (all imported from Dubai) they kindly obliged and gave me two 2kg bags. For which I paid 400 rupees (about SA R270). On opening the packets to decant into smaller ones and vacuum-bag, I found they were crawling with weevils. We are about to set off to town AGAIN to return it; hope they are as obliging, but if not, I will have to ask Livi and Kay for their other book, “Ways with Weevils … Protein in a Packet”. The kids all became very aware of the problems of long-term storage when they were here….

The tourist areas themselves are very rustic and under-developed. Rolf had expected at least the main beach on Praslin (the tourist hot spot) to have a Camps Bay or Clifton feel – in fact there is nothing even remotely like this level of development. There is almost no signage visible through the thick foliage to identify the few restaurants and hotels that do exist and pub crawling along this 2km long stretch of beach would lead to certain death by dehydration! However notwithstanding this hazard, the absence of obvious mass tourism has its advantages as property developers and entertainment houses rarely manage to exercise taste or restraint when fleecing the hordes; and the genuine island style that prevails comes as a pleasant surprise.

Looking back and forward: what is normal?

Well, we are two weeks into the Seychelles and it has been an interesting experience again: learning about procedures, how the new places operate, what they have to offer to whom and where.

While every time we get to a new port of entry we learn more about what we are supposed to do to clear in, it is very different in each place and so, mostly, we don’t know what to do… i.e. what to give to whom and where (the when is basically as soon as you come in, assuming it is not a weekend, public holiday or lunch time!) You may have read about our last experience….. dealing with the officials in our pj’s over cereal in the boat! But it is not just official procedures. Where do we shop for what and what is the benchmark price? How do we get around? Which beaches/islands can we visit and put down anchor and what do they offer? Where can we afford to eat, if we choose to eat out?

More importantly… how will we deal with our new circumstances, when will we adjust and when will new circumstances seem normal to us? In an e-mail I told a friend that things were settling down to normal, then followed up by telling her I took advantage of a good rain to put my cossie on and go outside to clean the whole boat down and thereby use the fresh-water rinse on offer. Well, this apparently caused my friend much mirth and exclamations of “Normal!!??” Well, it seemed normal to me…. Am I going “bossies” …?!

With this in mind we set to and developed a list of our new “normal”.

To help you visualise our current circumstances, to which we have grown fairly accustomed but cannot say we love them all, here is what we deal with daily: wet feet and wet floors (humidity), wet bums and pants (dinghy travel… and Rolf’s race-car driving!), being permanently sodden and streaming (no lovely “glow” in this heat and humidity!); always acknowledging the elements to be in control (sun… there is not enough suncream in the world, wind… which decides on how we will get there, water(sea state) … dictates the ease and comfort of the ride and the sleep); sleeping with no bed sheet deliberately so that we feel the rain as it falls through the hatch onto our legs (and then we know it is raining…. and can leap up and run around and close all the hatches, which were kept open for air); sore, tired muscles from doing work at odd angles, lots of walking to get anywhere, and getting chores done in an environment of stairs, constant movement, limited space, pull starting the outboard motor instead of turning an ignition key - everything is transported by dinghy which involves lots of multiple handling on unstable surfaces; endlessly monitoring our use of resources (when last did you check or limit your water consumption during a shower/gas consumption whilst cooking/fuel consumption while driving/battery condition when using lights/plastic bag consumption for garbage disposal?); regular inconvenience of accessing stuff (either you cannot remember which locker it is in or it is at the back/bottom of the locker); changing our land view even when not travelling – while swinging at anchor or on a mooring (very disorientating at night and when trying to figure out if the anchor is holding); sailing and its attendant sail work and on arrival evaluating options and then executing a mooring or berthing or anchoring – generally resulting in even shorter or broken finger nails. These are not complaints, merely observations of how different and physical our life has become.

Then there are the different standards in presenting oneself (well, for starters, if we are both happy with the other as hair stylist, our standards must have changed…!); different expectations of yourself (if there is a problem… Just fix it!) and of your day (it will be unpredictable: Murphy is a demon operator on boats) and of your life (deal with what comes your way and don’t expect to have much control… A funny one: the tall red postbox outside the café at Inhambane received Laura’s postcards and we happily moved on having completed a little task. Wrong! Walking past the BACK of same postbox the next day revealed it to be a dustbin… silly us to assume all was exactly what it seemed. Happily the postcards, on top of the pile of rubbish, were fine and able to be posted again… at the post office this time.)

So, that is the current “norm” about us. What is the norm in the Seychelles and how does this early days perspective differ from Madagascar?

The Seychellois: friendly, helpful, with a strong environmental consciousness. They have strict rules regarding litter and use of resources, including who may use their islands and beaches. Madagascans, also friendly and helpful but more naive, appear less environmentally-aware; they have no facility for dealing with litter, for example: the backs of their villages are liberally strewn with debris and if a helpful boat-man in a harbour offers to take your rubbish packet, you will return to find it strewn over the dock or in the water (however he will have scanned it for useful things like bottles, a precious commodity). When looking over Madagascar you will see telltale smoke from at least one fire at any time; the belief is that burning forests will help to enrich the soil with its coal/ash. A consequence? Only about 15% of their forests remain and land is not becoming enriched. Only Sakatia Island has a ‘no-burning’ policy, due to strong ex-pat influence, and it is regarded as the richest island for the communities.

However, the Madagascan attitude assists yachties in that we are allowed access virtually anywhere: cruising is an absolute dream with freedom of access to the beaches and islands (unless a luxury lodge frowns at you for blocking their view). In the Seychelles we are disappointingly restricted: many of the islands are privately owned or fall under National Parks, the latter resulting in a daily fee of approximately R150.00 (SA Rand) per person, and another R200 for the yacht (and no facilities for this except access). In fact, here is another normal for our life as we live it in the Seychelles….COST!!!! My first cappuccino since Cape Town was bought by a kind Rolf at a cost of almost R50 (last cappuccino!); we paid R80 for a (large) pineapple the other day…. a bit ripped off as they are normally R60; soft tomatoes from R6 to R8 each and I passed on the Walker’s Christmas mince pies at about R15 per pie. However, some of the Creole cooking takeaways from the street vendors are tasty and cheap at about R20 – R30; but then need to be washed down with beer (local) at R20 and up to R45 in restaurants.
Nonetheless, the Seychelles islands are beautiful. Victoria (on Mahe) is one of the tiniest capitals in the world and has lots of charm – similar to Pietermaritzburg 40 years ago, but is busy and vibrant during the season; Mahe Island has some lovely spots but plays second fiddle to Praslin and La Digue, the main tourist islands… and the other 102 islands! The photo shows Chauve Souris, a private island off Praslin.

We look forward to visiting about 10 of them in our stay before we leave for Chagos and the Maldives at the end of Feb: many islands to the SW of Mahe will be avoided since they are privately owned, many are declared National Parks (and we will not often pay their fees) and many thanks to the pirates (although we have already seen two US Navy warships in Port Victoria… pirate patrol),.

The Seychellois are a colourful people (those on the smaller islands often adopting a Bob Marley-way, complete with accent) and are a range of colour themselves. To paraphrase a local guide book… in the Seychelles, “marriage is not a restrictive institution”! In Madagascar, meanwhile, a young French artist who had worked there for three years told me he was approached by a village chief to please spread his seed and increase the local gene pool (a problem in the small villages).

Rolf is presently drinking a toast (with his cheap Madagascan beer at a mere R12) and paying tribute to one of his favourite items of equipment – a 3 metre scaffold plank that found its way aboard in Richards Bay and has adorned our stern ever since. It has served as a gangplank; a fish cutting board; a coconut chopping platform; a workbench; a fender board; a fixture to secure additional diesel jerry cans on the trip from Madagascar; a washboard (to prevent big following seas from breaking directly into the cockpit); as a lever and as a jacking base to lift the starboard engine, weighing in at a couple of hundred kgs, back onto its mounting bolts (from which it had jumped at some time after a securing nut had unthreaded itself – your engine has not done this after a couple of months use?); and most recently as a scaffold plank to reach an otherwise unreachable light fitting in the cockpit roof (in order to drain the water from the fitting – see above for the new “normal”)

This second photo (also displaying the beauty of the plank)shows an example of interesting mooring practice undertaken by a couple in the charter yacht on the left… gave us a few moments of tension as we watched from the bank!

Today was boat cleaning day and putting up the canvas cockpit screens to enclose the large cockpit and effectively add an additional living space – useful when it rains, which it does a lot of in the current rainy season here! Particularly valuable because our children arrive in the next two days to fill the boat, share Christmas, New Year, interesting experiences, beautiful beaches, a lovely sea and a new look on our world.

Friends visit, playing survivor and surviving a passage

Ok, so this is a long one. Bear with our stories but a lot has happened…. If you want to take it in shifts, we have broken this entry into two coffee-break pieces: You too can have fun with us (the visiting friends part) and You too can survive a passage with us.

You too can have fun with us
We had guests for a week! Alice and Noel were the first of our friends to be brave enough to trust our sailing so they spent a week with us in Madagascar… a week that was wonderful, enjoyed by all, and provided interesting challenges…!

At the start, getting from your plane to your holiday accommodation is a different process when you are joining friends on their boat: arriving at night, the Shaws were picked up at the airport by a stranger, subjected to a long and rough taxi drive to a beach in the dark and then met by a small speedboat which would take them across a to another island where our boat was anchored. We were at Chanty Beach to meet them so they would not feel abandoned (or abducted) and as we walked in the dark over the rough eroded ground and then the beach to board the little transfer boat, Noel’s comment was that it felt like they were in a show of Survivor.

Waking on the first morning in paradise (a bay on Nosy Sakatia), they snorkeled off the boat and enjoyed coconut, mango, banana and papaya smoothies. During the course of the week we showed them all our favourite islands, beaches and snorkeling spots. Before continuing, a clarification… Alice says that reading that we “snorkel from the boat” simply does not convey the experiences we (and now they) have had: the snorkeling from the boat has, on many occasions, been on par with many previous scuba diving experiences. It is truly wonderful.

We played survivor on a tiny lovely beach in Russian Bay, dragging firewood around and making a great fire for a sunset braai. Never have beer, red wine and pork chops gone down better… and it seems the hermit crabs who tried to make beer cans their new homes, and those that FEASTED on the bones, felt the same. (Note that we are very environmentally conscious and feed the locals before removing our mess!)

Speaking of beer…. part of Noel’s survivor training was getting his stomach used to the local beer, which comes in quart bottles and spends days standing in the sun while in tortuous transit from Tana; after an initial wobbly however, he mastered the skill! At all times Alice and Noel were great “crew”: Alice proved a dab hand on the helm, Noel was fisherman and they both cleaned and tidied endlessly!

We did the tourist thing with the craft market at Nosy Komba and shared with them enchanting lemur experiences (Moms with babies wrapped tightly round them, both eating off your hand) then anchored off Lokobe National Park and sent them for a walk along the river in the wild.
Their eyes were big on their return, with tales of being chased out of the forest by the MIGHTIEST roar (“Didn’t you hear it on the boat?”). Chats to a local later revealed this terrifying roar to be made by the tiniest lemur in Madagascar…! That night we were subject to our rolliest sea; to our chagrin (or rather, read into that some fear and anxiety) Madagascar was hit by its first cyclone and we were on the outskirts of it, happily feeling only the impact on the water. Of course, you only know after the event that you will only experience the outskirts of the cyclone, while for days having a gnawing worry that you may have to survive its coming over you… it did not. Alice and Noel had to survive a hot, enervating day in Hell-Ville, but they found it easy by retreating to the local watering-holes and waiting for us as we completed official country exiting procedures and food and fuel provisioning.
Now to the real “survivor” experience… wherever we went, between boat and other activity, we used our trusty intrepid dinghy. It has a small “bailing bucket” in it and we joked as we left on day 1 of their visit (for the first time 4-up in the dinghy) that Noel was to be chief bailer. All went well in the morning but our return saw post-lunch revellers in choppier water with light swell and not paying heed to their weight distribution. It all happened so quickly: Irene saw turtle fin coming out the water and exclaimed; all turned to regard said turtle; water came over the front of the dinghy in a great torrent; all looked stunned momentarily as the second wave came over and submerged the nose of the dinghy as Noel simultaneously BAILED!! – off the boat! By doing so he began the start of our recovery, which continued with Rolf ensuring he kept the motor going to prevent stalling and the three-men-in-a-boat fiercely bailing out water. This word bailing implies method and control: the reality is that the boat was 7/8 full of water and sinking, the bail-bucket (half plastic coke bottle) was lost somewhere amongst 8 floating fins, 8 f-ing walking shoes, 8 f-ing fin booties, 4 f-ing masks and snorkels, clothing, suncream etc… we scooped MADLY with whatever we could: hands, shoes, feet (!) while Rolf used only one hand to scoop and kept the dinghy going in circles with the other. That was the other time Noel played survivor: only he knows how many times Rolf nearly rode over him. Then, when there was some evidence that we may be winning the war on water, Rolf noticed one of his crocs floating off in the distance. So we abandoned Noel and went to fetch it…. leaving Noel to play survivor! Summarised list of casualties: two ladies tops (used for snorkelling), one pair sunglasses, one camera (didn’t like the bailing), four people’s dignity. Summary of the event: we were never in any danger, but the motor would have been, and the post-mortems were hysterically funny!

Summary of the visit: WHAT FUN!!! You too can have fun with us… when are you coming?? Don’t be scared… we are more cautious on the dinghy now, and can sail the yacht really well, having just undertaken a passage completely on our own…

You too can survive a passage with us
Turns out spending a month cruising between islands and anchoring in generally calm waters spoils you and makes you forget that this is not really sailing. So, preparing for passage to the Seychelles, we had to get our minds and hearts back into the idea of sailing through the nights, constant movement under-foot, galley issues, real weather issues with few hide-away spots… and in this case, the added worry of piracy.

The day after the Shaws left, we got underway, having ascertained that the cyclone had gone and weather was good with only a low-pressure system building far in the east and no new cyclone threats. Wake-up call: the sea was horribly disturbed, wind on the nose, could not sail decently but had to power into it… and we both elected to have sea-sick tablets (probably partly induced by nerves). We had two days before leaving the northern tip of Madagascar and on both nights settled into fair anchorages to get some sleep.

Two issues: one… the northern tip (Cap St Andre) is notorious for funneling the seas and winds around it at great speed from the SE so one needs to steer clear and have conservative sail settings, attempting it only when weather conditions are appropriate. We had these conditions. Second issue: of course, both the UK and Dubai-based Maritime Safety Organisations had advised against sailing to the Seychelles (“why not sail in the Caribbean rather?”) as they had to do, with a couple recently being taken by pirates near the Amirantes (one of the Seychelles outer island groups, SW of the main island). We called the Seychelles Coast Guard and advised of our plan to avoid that area by sailing via the Farquhar islands to Coetivy Island, well to the east of the Amirantes. They approved of this plan, and all we spoke to said “head east as soon and fast as possible”.

So we left Madagascar behind us and to our dismay found, firstly, that we simply could not sail east immediately because, although the weather was good, the wind and current were still strong enough to make that virtually impossible and we had no option but to go north…. and, secondly, that we had no more money in our satellite phone account, could make no calls and were about to be cut off completely. (Aside… we had initiated the process of getting more money into the account with our provider but a series of events occurred so this was not completed…. Panic!) Fortunately an sms to Mark was received by him, he called us back and got the show going and the next day we were back on track.

Clearly, we got here safely (the Google Earth site linked to the blog shows our route, updated after we got here to foil the pirates!) and the trip was good, interesting, challenging, tense and simultaneously peaceful! The Indian Ocean north of Madagascar is fascinating: nearer the equator it can be like glass, reflecting the clouds around the rim of this apparent blue dinner-plate (Irene wanted to subscribe to the flat-earth society) but within twenty minutes can turn into a broiling, rolling, confused mess as storms on various sides all make themselves felt on the surface.

We were sometimes covered with gentle showers which moved over quickly and did not change the sailing at all but once after two days of the utmost calm and almost no sailing-wind we were assaulted from all sides and had to survive about 12 hours of heavy weather.

Watches were shared equally between us in 4-hour shifts, with Irene always given the 4 to 8am watch: a real treat, as testified to by the photos. For the first few days we were guarded by a full moon that turned the sea to silver and one morning the rising sun turned a cloud gold, bathing the whole area in magnificent soft golden light.

We were accompanied by birds en route: two hitched rides on the boat as they rested and many others used us to assist them feed…. dozens of flying fish would be disturbed from the water as we passed them and the birds would swoop down on them, capilitalising on the ungainly flight of these odd fish.

Some watches were delightfully peaceful while others required hard work and management of sails and route. All watches were tense as we scanned the horizon for fast-approaching dhows, in the knowledge that we would be able to do nothing in that situation but pick up our contingency “pirate bag” and spend Christmas in Somalia. This may seem overly dramatic but it was the reality and brought about the decision not to stop at any islands en route but to make way as fast as possible to our destination and avoid all exposure: hence no night lights (not even navigation) and no radar - just very sharp eyes. Also hence a conflict between joy at the brilliance of full-moon nights but tension that it made us more visible.

We were of course pleased to arrive here at Mahe Island late on Sunday afternoon but were too exhausted to really celebrate. We had to anchor outside the harbour with the yellow Q flag (standard practice to inform authorities you have not yet cleared in) and wait for them to come out to the boat on Monday morning. We were in bed at 7:30pm…. and embarrassingly slept through the arrival of the 6 Ports, Customs, Immigration, Health, Coastguard and Police guys on their launch at 7:00 on monday morning so that they had to return at about 9 and found us eating breakfast!

We have discovered normal life… a calm night at Seychelles Yacht Club, people across all sectors with a good service ethic, a little town with recognizable supermarkets and a movie house!! (But still no rooibos, provitas, bran or non-chocolate muesli!) Note: please don’t visualize Seychelles Yacht Club as the Royal Cape…. We are on a mooring buoy, no water or power provided by the club, tuna factory and noisy streets alongside. But the food is good and cheap…. Especially by Seychelles standards! After a few days of settling in here we will check out the neighbouring islands and prepare for the arrival of our next sets of visitors…. Mark and Livi, Barry and Kay are coming to join us for Christmas in the Seychelles!

Cruising into it in Madagascar

So, looking over our last two blog entries I saw things about which I am happy to say we have moved on… for example previously I said of the edibles on offer: “different eating patterns here… we went for the fruit!” Well, we are learning (but will NEVER get to turtles, which we see almost daily cruising around us): we eat the most odd-looking veg and fruit (sometimes to our regret) and have used all parts of the fish except the tail! We have not yet got to making Malagasy fish biltong like this:

Further evidence of our moving on: we are learning to collect useful bits of old carpet, bottles, etc (we have delicious pouring wild honey in a Sunlight Liquid bottle: have you ever thought of a better use for said bottle?); we have sat at the same anchorage in Madagascar for three nights before moving on (…but that “week-in-the-same-place” scenario is still looking unlikely); we have each started a second book; we are not impervious to the pleas of “Donner un cadeau” (gift please) and have been known to return to the boat to fetch the clothing or cigarettes (the latter specially bought for this purpose: Rolf has not started smoking again) and bring back to the happy recipient on the beach.

In contrast to a previous off-hand and boastful comment, we have learned that fish do not just throw themselves at you and ask to be eaten: in fact, they even make their escape after gaffing and on the boat (which meant beans for supper). Nonetheless, despite some bad fishing experiences – ones that got away - we have a freezer full of fish and eat it almost daily (although Irene is trying to get over her problem of the short time between the poor dude’s happy swim in the water and eating him).

Another challenge provided by the fishing experience from which we have learned a big lesson: if you do not reel in your lines before the boat anchoring process, the lines will immediately get themselves wound around your rudder (starboard side) and prop (port side). The consequence was mild in this case: relaxing over sundowners was replaced by about 2 hours with scuba tank under water trying to pick off/out as much of the line as possible…. and fortunately it seems enough was pulled from the prop to avoid lasting damage.

We have anchored in water that is exceptionally translucent and had the good fortune to snorkel or dive right off the boat. The quality of these waters and extent of the marine life is amazing and cannot be adequately described in words.

We have experienced wonderful nights at quiet, calm anchorages where it felt like we were in a (normal, foundations-in-soil) house again. However, we have also been on the receiving end of horrible stormy, rolly seas, with waves slamming fiercely into our bridge deck …. and this while at anchor!! On such nights your eyes feel like they are rolling around in your head and you cannot read or do anything constructive; basically, you exist and wait for it to pass, as it will undoubtedly do. The only positive thing is that sometimes these rolly seas are due to a rain storm…. and the boat gets a fresh-water wash!

(Below: … speaking of washing……!)

The appearance of storm clouds precipitates (besides butterflies in the tummy) a rapid battening-down-of-the-hatches and gathering of all electronic goodies (computers, VHFs, GPSs, sat phone, cell phones, digital barometers etc) to place them in the microwave or oven for protection from lightning strikes (it would be nice to have something electronic left usable if that calamity should befall us…. And these steel cabinets act as a Faraday cage). Lately, we have seen storm clouds gathering in the east every night … and we worry, as we hear the first cyclone has hit the east coast of the Madagascar main island. However, we have been assured that cyclones do not get to this western part of the island (which has its own micro-climate) until late December, so we will make sure to miss that appointment!

Local knowledge like this is invaluable and one of our challenges is how to access it. Apart from weather advice, it is enormously useful for us to hear about recommended anchorages (the bad, rolly ones we found ourselves in are sneered at by those in the know… we hear after the event!) and good dive spots (we try to see where others are going, but sometimes we are in remote areas where there are no others to follow). Rolf describes us as behaving like Ricochet Rabbit: bouncing around from place to place trying to find the right spots, instead of taking the time to discover these in due course; or alternatively having advance knowledge to get to the best places immediately.

We have explored many of the smaller islands around Nosy Be (Nosy: island; Be meaning big).

Nosy Tani-kely, Nosy Tsara-bajina and Nosy Komba have been wonderful finds: the first two for their exceptional white beaches, turquoise waters and marine life and the latter (despite being touristy) for its local village, crafts, cheap on-shore dinner (2 prawn kebabs and sautéed veg for R40) and nature park where we had lemurs on our shoulders (so gentle, light and soft, quietly eating their bananas next to our ears), followed by a boa constrictor (different adjectives here….) and examined the chameleons and range of tortoises. Irene’s “instinctive-Mum” tendency to assist the almost-falling banana into the tortoise’s mouth resulted in an inadvertent clamp-down on her finger… those beaks are STRONG!! Nosy Mitsio is a U-shaped island that provided a great restful anchorage in the centre of the U… while the Madagascan Zebus on the beach took us home to South Africa’s Transkei Nguni cattle.

We often return to Nosy Sakatia, where one of the anchorages tends to act as a base to many yachties who gather at the hotel lodge there for sundowners. Here, we have met many people (frequently South Africans) with varied stories to share … some of which are necessary to hear, but one hopes not to go through similar experiences! Some of them (the Lalamanzi’s, Ballyhoo’s and Gambit’s: people are referred to by their boat name here) have been sailing for a few years and have just started their trips home to SA; they were dismayed at the front coming up the coast, but one learns to read the weather and duck away from it where possible. Others are on their way up to the Seychelles and still others on their way to Tanzania.

Rolf still has not stopped looking at every boat he comes across. He is particularly impressed with the dhows and pirogues: such old technology, yet so efficient on their narrow hulls. However, now that Rolf is (learning to) become a fisherman he also spends time assessing fishing techniques and equipment. The crayfish trap below is of particular interest to engineers, it seems, but note the buoy: do not dismiss floating water bottles as being inconsequential to your voyage…. They could prove hazardous!

Of course, after jaunting around the islands it always comes back to replenishing the stores and for this we must go to Hell-ville. The town is apparently named after French Admiral DeHell; they have fortunately renamed the main road which used to be called Cours de Hell (Highway to Hell) and ended at the Catholic Church!

The old buildings indicate that Hell-Ville had a grand past and they stand beautiful in their avenues of stunning mango trees. However the rest of the town is typically run-down, if colourful.

The market at Hell-ville is really great, (although photos of baskets of huge moving muddy crabs, fly-infested meat and general spittoon channels on the floor have been omitted). We are trying the local spices and Madagascan green peppercorns, fresh vanilla pods and cinnamon sticks; we regard the ants falling from the latter during grating as a bonus but Rolf is less than happy to be sharing his Coco Pops with them. Rolf is also manfully trying the cheap Madagascan rum!

It is at times excruciatingly hot here and shopping day is a time to grit your teeth, trudge between the market and various stores with your bags and taxi driver in tow, get it all (3 big boxes - which all proved to be frail - 10 bursting packets and 1 jerry can of petrol for the outboard) to the harbour, fight your way through the hundreds of people and Zebu being offloaded from the giant ferry and convey it per dinghy (2 loads) to the boat.

At the boat, transfer from dinghy to boat, unpack it, re-pack it appropriately, wash all the veg in Milton, dry and vacuum-pack … then treat yourself by getting back to the internet café (and a beer) and spending a few hours in written conversation with your family and friends! We look forward to friends arriving to stay with us in the next day or so, then leave for the Seychelles.

On our way to figuring out how to do this….

In our last blog we said we had no idea how to be “cruiser yachties”… well, from our observations of others and what we end up doing from day to day, the picture is starting to become clarified. And yes, we KNOW we have been posting pics of paradise and so you think we just sail happily and problem-free from one idyllic spot to another, but there is more: there are also the in-between times….!

Firstly, our observations…. other cruisers get to a place and sit. And sit (sometimes not even getting off the boat to snorkel or walk/dinghy about). For days and weeks… in the same place!! Think we won’t manage that one (did we mention in the last entry the fact that we were driven personalities…!?), but we will each try hard to at least start a book…!

Another observation: the cruising boats seem to be either (in fact, mostly) old monohulls or relatively recent cats (read: with modern technological indulgences on board like ours (in the minority)). We have met some of the sailors of these old monohulls and this is how it goes for them…. Many do not even have a country they call home as they have been sailing for so long (e.g. Jean-Claude 17 years) and their life is unbelievably basic: take jerry can to the river (for a real treat: fresh water for bathing); stand “kaal-gat” on your deck and wash down; when it is time to go, flex your muscles as everything is manual (no electric winch for that heavy anchor or mainsail…). Let us say that these boats are not pretty as, over 17 years of sailing, things weather badly and you collect SUCH dreadful stuff that must be stowed (like useful bits of old carpet, bottles, etc), so it is best to do it on decks which are ringed by a mesh net to keep it (and you) on board… although there is little space for you! We are sure they scoff at us (“plastic fantastic” Rolf calls us!)

So, apart from making observations of others, what have we been up to in between the paradise photos? Well, we clean and tidy a lot (boats are really small and get dirty VERY quickly), sometimes on a quiet sea and often on a rolly one. (PS Good tummy, arm and leg exercises: stand on a step, knees flexed, and lean forward from the waist till your hands are below the level of your feet, in the tub…. Now WASH those smelly clothes, girl! Scrub and rinse and wring them out then carry the bucket on board and hang them all over the guard rails… remember up to 11 pegs per item, some holding the sides together, depending on how the wind is blowing.) (PPS We are not buying salt any more… whenever we need for cooking, we run our fingers along any surface and within a few seconds have gathered a teaspoon. Sometimes we can pick up whole big crystals, even on surfaces washed 4 days ago.)

We look for things a lot; things that we need, and know we have, but are unsure of where we put them. We deliberately keep calm and wryly pass comment on senility.

We rearrange a lot, perfecting the fine art of “how to store things efficiently and economically and systematically so they may be found again”. We update our storage spreadsheets a lot.

We fix things a lot: yesterday Rolf sorted out a blockage in the port heads (paradise is…)

We snorkel where we can (lovely), walk and sometimes meet the locals, like Ahmed who had made this really great catamaran.

We are learning to be sanguine about the fact that you are expected to give gifts a lot. (Madagascans like to shake hands and chat, then share the fact that we are now family and they need something to remember us by… the best thing to do is have nothing on you except sweets, balloons or pens for kids.)

Lately, Irene has been worrying about fresh food a lot. Until a few days ago, we had some sweet potatoes sprouting happily (trying to turn themselves into highly-prized green veg), a butternut, some carrots and old gems… and some mangoes and a banana from the boat-trader. Now, we are rich in fresh! Our sprouter (no, not the sweet potatoes, but the plastic one) is working overtime on its beans, lentils and chickpeas… and we went on a coconut raid!! Whilst in Russian Bay we found a beach (a long dinghy-ride away) which had about twenty recently-raided coconut trees on it. The adjective serves to describe to you the placement of the nuts on the trees. Nothing daunted, Rolf made a plan (he is tired of sprouts…) with rope, his trusty axe and some fallen logs… and we are now proudly housing 8 green (drinking) coconuts!

Then, on our sail back from Russian Bay to here (Sakatia island again) Rolf (under threat of just potato and sprouts for supper) caught 3 fish. Well, let me qualify that… the first pulled all of the line off the rod, Rolf reeled all 600m back in (with difficulty: the fish was mighty heavy, and Irene did not slow the boat down fast enough…) but the fish bit through the line about 100m from Rolf landing it and stole the lure. The second (seen to be “long but thin”), Rolf fought, but it did not bite with sufficient determination and escaped. The third was delicious…. with potato, a sprout and carrot salad, and followed by a mango, banana and coconut-juice smoothie. Fresh heaven!

Today has been fun-and-games-in-the-engine-bay day, with David of Admiral up to his elbows in grease, alongside Rolf, the fishing-coconut picking-plumbing and engine-mechanic.

Tomorrow, hopefully, we will challenge the Hell-Ville market… and hopefully find an internet café with decent connection speed so I can post this and write to you…

Madagascar

Well, we are here at our (first) destination at last! We have cleared in to Madagascar and are formally allowed to stay for a month, after which time we will be heading up to the Seychelles. We have been in Madagascar for about 4 days as our clear-in destination was Nosy Be, on the NW tip of the country, so we enjoyed some of the islands and river anchorages on the way up. “Paradise” about sums it up …!

Anyway, we can summarise our life since 15 September as: 2822 nautical miles from CT to Madagascar, extended sojourn in Richard’s Bay (whoopee!! and twice, due to our aborted first departure…), stops at Inhambane (Moz) and Bassas da India (atoll in the middle of the Moz channel) and safe arrival at our first major “destination”.

However, this trip is not about the destinations but rather about the journey; the latter has provided a great wealth of opportunities to learn, experience and see the watery side of our planet. We have learned about sailing (fortunately… but I am still very nervous of storms and we still need much more experience, although they say if you have sailed up from Cape Town you are no longer novices!) and the amazing marine world (we stopped to swim in the middle of the channel on a very still day then while eating lunch saw birds diving nearby…. they soon came calling and wheeling over us and our boat was surrounded by jumping fish and prowling sharks!). We have also learned about fishing (huge fish just attach themselves to your two lines simultaneously as it turns out, causing you to learn how to gut and fillet them and store them in an already-full tiny freezer) … while in Irene’s case, learning has included cutting Rolf’s hair!
The pictures and memories we have in our heads are just astounding, from incredible and (REALLY) awesome whale interactions (one blew alongside us as we were sitting on the trampoline at twilight, so close it went under our bowsprit, while another resulted in Shane hopping into the dinghy to rescue us from our scuba dive … a whale was coming alarmingly close) to exhausting (and sometimes scary, particularly when associated with sleep-deprived hallucinations…) watch-keeping to the beauty of night skies with no ambient light but with incredible phosphorescence in the water below.

We have seen SUCH beautiful areas: Bassas da India, an atoll surrounded by hundreds of miles of sea and only above the water a few hours a day which provided incredible snorkeling and diving from the boat (beautiful reef fish shaded themselves from the sun under us); Nosy Iranje (turtle island) and Sakatia, two very different Madagascan islands (the former with white beaches and turquoise seas; the latter with forested headlands and sheltered coves).

The local people are friendly and interested in us (and tolerant of Irene’s French fumblings) and we have been approached on the boat by fishermen (or their children sometimes) and traders selling fruit, octopus, the HUGEST crabs and a turtle (different eating patterns here… we went for the fruit!)

We are so privileged to be able to have these opportunities, but it comes at a cost… that being, of course, missing our friends and family and simply sitting over a meal or a drink with them and sharing in the stories of their lives too. But the time for that will come again…. maybe here with us!

Shane and Laura (the crew who came with us from R Bay) left us yesterday; they were great to have on board, helped a lot on the exhausting passage and we all got on well together. We now have a month in Madagascar, sharing part of that time with friends coming to spend a week with us later in November.

I have no idea how we will run this month of exploring the area… being two fairly driven, busy personalities it will be interesting to see if we can slip into the role of being “cruiser yachties”… whatever that might mean. But we will certainly get all we can out of it, and take our home (and intrepid dinghy) around to as many places as possible!