Archive for the ‘Indonesia’ Category
Across Three Seas
Monday, September 13th, 2021
September 2021
My last few weeks in Savusavu were spent preparing for the long passage to Lombok in Indonesia. I wasn’t very keen to stay in Fiji through the cyclone season and Indonesia was the only possible destination that was still open to foreign boats. I had managed to get an eVisa for entering the country at Marina del Ray on the small island of Gili Gedi which is a port of entry. Before leaving I was very lucky to have the opportunity to get a free Covid-19 vaccination and received an official card as proof. Just a day before clearing out I received a message from the agent in Lombok to say that this had now become an additional requirement for entering the country and was also reassured that they were still ‘open’.
I made multiple trips to the local supermarkets trying to find the best provisions for my trip. My cooking arrangements are pretty rudimentary and I was expecting most of the voyage to be fairly rough, so was hoping to stock up with easily prepared meals. Unfortunately the variety of canned food in Savusavu did not extend much beyond various varieties of beans. Plenty of canned tuna and some instant noodles.
Speedwell had been given a new coat of antifouling before leaving New Zealand and when I made a thorough inspection underwater I was happy to see that the hull was still pretty clean. I used my long-handled scraper to knock off a few impertinent weeds that had found a foothold, but there was no hard growth at all. On a less happy note, I discovered that the engine had developed a rather nasty oil leak. It appeared to be dripping from the plug at the bottom of the sump which had got a bit rusty. Oh dear! The proper way to repair it would be to have the engine lifted out and a patch welded on. That wasn’t going to happen in Savusavu. I found some epoxy steel in my toolbox, cleaned up the area around the leak as best as I could and patched it up. It seemed to be OK. I also made a special trip to town to buy more epoxy steel kits, super absorbent baby nappies for catching the drips and 5l of engine oil for topping up.
On Saturday the 17th July I set off early. The wind was light and I motored for a while but was soon able to catch enough of a gentle breeze to keep us quietly moving along. Lovely to be out on the water again, although I had enjoyed my relaxing time at the Copra Shed Marina. Once out of Savusavu Bay the wind picked up and we had quite a fast sail until past Suva on Viti Levu the biggest Fijian Island.
Once I had cleared the SE corner of Viti Levu I was able to turn west and it was to stay that way, give or take a few degrees, for the next 4000 miles. I let out the sheet and set up the Navik to hold us on an almost dead downwind course, steering a few degrees off as the Navik is getting on in years and tends to wander a bit. The junk rig gybes fairly harmlessly but as the sail comes across the cockpit there can sometimes be a great confusion of excess rope eager to entangle with anything in its wild path. So an unplanned gybe is best avoided.
The next few days were quite delightful. An easy following breeze had us smoothly sailing along at a comfortable 4 knots on a flattish sea. I was able to do some proper cooking using my faithful primus stove and took timely advantage of the fresh produce that I’d been able to buy at the Savusavu market, knowing that it wouldn’t last very long in the tropical heat with no refrigeration. The primus is ‘sort of’ gimballed but doesn’t have anything to stop a smaller pot from sliding off the top. I managed to rig up a makeshift arrangement using two lengths of springy curtain wire which worked perfectly.
22nd July
Just sitting in the cockpit enjoying the perfect weather, the sky dotted with puffy little trade wind clouds. All good. But something caught my eye, oh dear, the aft end of the top batten was sticking out far too much – the lashing had come adrift. Chafed through. Well it had to be fixed, so heave-to and get the sail down, find a new piece of string and sort it out. Soon enough we were on our way again. I rewarded myself with a deliciously juicy mini watermelon, just about the last of my fresh fruit.
That night the wind went too light for the Navik to be able to hold us on course. I decided to try the electric autohelm that Annie had generously donated. It coped splendidly holding us perfectly on track doing less than 1 knot. So much better than trying to hand steer through the night and it feels good to be able to keep moving, even at a snail’s pace. A half moon made it all rather blissful. I don’t carry enough diesel to even consider using the engine at this early stage of the campaign.
24th July
After a few days of very light wind it strengthened again and the Navik was able to take over. I had been checking the battery while using the electric autopilot and it was able to cope quite comfortably. But when I checked to see how much the new solar panel was contributing I was disappointed to see that it had died again. Obviously the repair that had been done in Savusavu was not surviving offshore conditions. I took the panel in and opened up the offending control box. Sure enough it was all corroded up again. It was impossible for me to reconnect the bypass diodes which had become a green mess of crumbly corrosion, so I removed the whole affair and simply connected plus and minus terminals to the battery input cables and blanketed everything in thick insulating layer of Sikaflex.
26th July
Passing Vanuatu to starboard. It would have been good to be able to stop and enjoy another new place but the plague has changed all that. I’m lucky to be able to be travelling at all.
The weather has become stronger and we are reefed down to 4 panels (out of a total of 6) and bowling along at 4-5 knots. Wind direction is absolutely steady just South of East and makes a pleasant change after the variable winds experienced on the trip from New Zealand to Fiji.
28th July
Wind much stronger. I have no anemometer but from the state of the sea and the amount making its way into the cockpit I judged it to be approaching 30 knots. Reefed down to the top panel only and we were still doing 5 knots virtually dead downwind. One of the joys of sailing in the tropics is that when the weather gets rough and every visit outside to the cockpit to trim the sails or alter the Navik setting or just to have a good look around, involves a possible soaking from an errant wave, I don’t have to first struggle into my foul weather gear but can rather just strip off (if I happen to be wearing something) and let my skin take the salt water. Very refreshing and easily towelled dry.
29th July
A red footed booby spent the night on the stern rail leaving quite a mess to be cleaned up in the morning. These birds are fearless and determined to hold their own once they settle on board. At times, on other passages, I’ve had about 10 of them squabbling over the best roosting spot until they settle down for the night. In the morning they make an early, well-rested departure. Can’t really begrudge them the chance of a comfy night.
At sundown I celebrated passing the first 1000 mile mark with a Jack Daniels and coke premixed in a can.
30th July
I have seen no other boats since leaving the coast of Viti Levu and have been able to get some sleep at night. Last night the wind was light and I left the electric autopilot in charge and turned in. Still going dead down wind on a flat sea doing a maximum of 2 knots. When I woke up in the morning I found to my surprise that we had gybed. I had been totally unaware. Normally the slightest alteration in the motion wakes me. It must have been a very smooth manoeuvre.
A pod of dolphins kept us company for a while and later the wind started to strengthen. I lowered one panel.
31st July
The rough motion of the boat woke me just after midnight. A strong wind had come up. I reefed right down to just the top panel. I noticed that the lights were flickering, the GPS dying and the solar panel controller was behaving strangely. What now? Electrical connections at sea are always a bit dodgy. I started checking at the house battery connections as all the systems seemed to be affected. Sure enough, the (very) rough motion had shaken things up a bit and the heavy golf cart batteries were shifting around in their box. I found some padding to stuff around them and keep them firmly wedged in and then noticed that one of the terminal connections was loose and moving about. Hence the general flickering. Easy to fix. Things were soon back to normal.
1st August
A slow start to the day. The wind had moderated and I left it a bit late to raise more sail. When I had sorted things out properly we made good progress doing 4 knots and perfectly on track. There was a shower of about 40 – 50 very tiny flying fish scattered about the deck. Too late to try to save any of them. It must have been an amazing sight to see them in the air.
By the evening the wind had picked up again. Seems I need to get used to moving at 4 – 5 knots rather than my customary 2-3. Not very comfortable but at least we are making good time. My visa for Indonesia is valid for 90 days from when it was issued, which means I need to get there before 10th October. It doesn’t look as if that’s going to be a problem.
Just after sunset a big ship passed about 5 miles off. The first one I had seen so far.
3rd August
Another flying fish – this time a really big one. I was quietly sipping a cup of chamomile tea at 0200. Suddenly a loud bang right next to me. What was that?! It turned out to be an enormous flying fish about 20cm long. Right inside, on the cabin sole. It would have make a decent meal, but he looked so surprised and so very much alive that I grabbed his slippery self and released him back into the Coral Sea. Which is really rather a good sea. Sometimes this passage reminds me of the better days of my first long single handed voyage across the South Atlantic from Port Owen to St Helena.
5th August
The wind had picked up and we raced along at 5 – 6 knots all day under 2 panels. Great progress.
In the evening the AIS warned me of two ships on opposite headings. A little later a 3rd appeared. All were travelling in a roughly north / south direction and so across my path. We were in an area approaching the south eastern end of Papua New Guinea, obviously a busy shipping lane. I felt quite glad to have the obligatory transmitting AIS which would hopefully give these big ships some notice of my tiny presence.
7th August
The weather has become really nasty. Somehow the geriatric Navik is managing to hold us on course, which is rather wonderful really. It seems I have managed to fix the problems that have been such a nuisance. I haven’t had to do any running repairs this trip (touch wood). Yesterday the sky looked a real mess with mares tails and other scratchy clouds (when the skies look scratched by a hen,….) and they foretold correctly. Lets hope it’s over before we reach the Torres Strait. Right now we are getting nearer to Port Moresby, another place where I would have liked to have stopped and possibly waited for favourable conditions for transiting the Strait. Well on we go.
There are massive and often breaking seas which come up behind us. Rather heart stopping as they tower above the stern and I wonder what’s going to happen next, but Speedwell takes it calmly in her stride. Rising magnificently to the occasion. What a wonderful little ship. I do feel happy that I remembered to put a bung in the exhaust hole. One less thing to worry about.
9th August
The AIS sounded the alarm last night for two ships almost simultaneously from opposite directions. The one from astern was 3 miles off and could be on a collision course. I hand steered and hoped that they picked up my signal. Impossible for me to do much in these conditions. And sure enough, in good time, the big ship altered course and we could relax again. Not much later there was another alarm. Obviously traffic between Australia and Port Moresby. Once the danger was over I gybed to head further offshore.
Half way – 2025 miles to go. I cracked a can of Bombay Sapphire and tonic which I’d been saving for this occasion.
10th August
The weather seems less threatening and the sun is making an appearance. Still windy but maybe a little less. Now we are heading for Portlock Reefs and the Bligh Entrance to the Torres Strait. I wonder how Captain Bligh and his crew were feeling when they were approaching the same area in an open boat all those years ago. Some of today’s charts are still based on his soundings. I have to confess to feeling a little anxious about how I’m going to manage the tricky navigation through the Strait and stay awake for 2 days, but hopefully the bad weather has happened and things are looking up. Just before midnight we entered the start of the Strait.
11th August
Once we were in the shallower reef filled waters the waves flattened considerably and I had no problem navigating the Great N E channel which has lights marking the important dangers. The current was in our favour and although on a SW heading, fairly hard on the wind, we made good progress. I was able to grab the odd catnap in the less tricky areas and a can of Red Bull helped to keep me alert when necessary.
12th August
We slipped through the dreaded Prince of Wales Channel with a moderate current in our favour and Australia close on the port side. Someone up there must be looking out for me. Perfect weather, perfect tides and no aircraft buzzing me which is what I’d been told to expect. Maybe they simply didn’t register a tiny yellow junk rigged boat being cheeky enough to just sail on by.
Friday 13th August
We made it through safely and are now in the Arafura Sea. What a relief to be in deep open water again. The weather was still fine and the living was easy.
15th August
Of course, nothing lasts. Now the wind is gale force again with matching seas. I’m getting used to it but I worry about the hammering that my sail and rigging is having to endure. Every time I look up to check the sail I half expect to see something broken. Thank goodness for my wonderful sturdy new rigid aluminium battens.
A dark night with very little moon. At about 10 pm I saw the glow of many lights on the horizon. Must be a squid boat fleet. Well, at least they are easy to see and they are stationary. Not much to do except try to steer to avoid them. Massive seas, Gale force wind. Not ideal. No chance of sleep tonight. It was quite a nightmarish scene. We would just be safely past a group of about 10 wildly gyrating boats on these enormous seas with their blindingly bright lights, fishermen visible working at hauling in the lines, heave a sigh of relief, and we would be approaching the next set. This went on all night. I really hoped that it was not a foretaste of the rest of the voyage. At last, at about 5am it seemed we were past the last group, I could see one more boat off to starboard but it looked as though we would safely pass by. I went below to relax for a few minutes. Suddenly I was aware of very bright lights illuminating the cockpit, rushed outside to find we were almost on top of the last boat. Able to smell the exhaust and see the gesticulating fishermen. My closest shave ever. Very exciting. I had to marvel at the incredible effort that goes into producing a plate of delicious calamari for some unwitting and possibly unappreciative restaurant patron.
16th August
Calmer weather and time to gybe. I was given a clear view of the lazy jacks which had been on the lee side of the sail and not visible. Oh no! The upper section of the lazy jacks which has a stitched and whipped loop at the end through which the lower section, supporting the reefed sail bundle and the boom passes, had slipped. I had stitched and whipped a 10cm tail for the loop and this should have been more than sufficient to hold it securely, but the tail had slipped down and now was no more than 2.5cm. Strands of whipping twine were fluttering loose. If the lazy jacks were to fail, the reefed sail would fall to the deck and into the water. One of the really bad things that can happen with a junk rig. I hove-to (again) and by clambering up on top of the dinghy was able to reach the problem. It was a rather precarious place to hang on and there wasn’t much I was able to do. At one point the lurching of the boat swung me off my feet and all I could hold on to was the suspect lazy jacks. I decided to forget about trying to fix it and instead managed to tie the end of the flag halyard to the lower section of the lazy jacks so if the loop parted there would still be something to hold things up. I also managed to lash the reefed sail bundle through the emergency reefing holes so the bulk of the sail couldn’t fall out overboard.
I checked the chart and decided to deviate slightly so that I could make a pit stop at Saumlaki in Eastern Indonesia which was only 400nm away and looked like an easy place to enter.
20th August
The approach to Saumlaki was dotted with small islands and numerous wooden fishing huts on stilts. Strange high and pointy prowed boats passed and waved. I was really in a foreign land. Saumlaki is a port of entry and quite a big harbour. I motored past the main dock and found a place to anchor in 17m and hoisted the Q flag. Reefs extend far offshore. It was windy but the water was flat. A bit like a typical Caribbean anchorage. It was Friday afternoon and I didn’t expect to be bothered by officialdom.
When I was able to properly examine the problem I realized that the fact that I’d used a piece of Kevlar rope for the upper lazy jacks while in New Zealand was a bad mistake. The inner core of this rope is not braided but just a bundle of straight filaments and the stitching, having nothing to stop it must have slipped. Also the whipping twine virtually fell apart in my hands as I tried to tidy it up. I had used Marlow whipping twine which is supposed to be high quality. Only difference to what I’d used previously was that it was dyed light brown rather than the normal white. Anyway, what was left had slipped to a point where it was highly compressed and seemed to be very secure. I wound some self-amalgamating tape around what was left of the whipping to hold everything together and possibly protect it from further chafe. I shortened the lower sections of the lazy jacks to raise the boom back to it’s normal position. Exactly the same thing had happened on the starboard side.
While comfortably anchored I managed to fix a few other problems that had been bothering me and spent Saturday taking a bit of a break and enjoying the chance to cook a proper meal.
Now it’s less than 1000 miles to go and I shall be staying north of the chain of volcanic islands all the way to Lombok.
22nd August
Left Saumlaki in the early morning. The wind was quite strong but the anchor came up without too much trouble. 10 miles with the wind hard on the beam until I could turn west again and run between some smaller islands. It developed into a beautiful day. A brilliant sunset and simultaneous full moon rise. There were many small fishing boats out at night but, of course, with these the AIS is no help as they barely bother with lights.
29th August
One perfect sailing day after another. Rather wonderful after the sometimes arduous crossing of the Arafura Sea. Now we are in the Banda Sea, or Laut Banda in the local lingo. It is quite pleasant to almost always have some land in sight and often a weird and wonderfully exotic-looking boat creeping up or passing close by. The islands are all volcanic and what could be either a cloud or a plume of volcanic ash usually gives a good indication of the wind direction, which has become more southerly than we had been experiencing up to now.
Every night there are many small groups of well-lit fishing boats to be avoided so sleep has to be taken in short snatches. And the wind is no longer the steady trade but frequently dies completely or comes up in a sudden fierce squall. On windless nights with fishing boats around I have now resorted to using the engine when the wind dies. The oil leak is still a problem but is not catastrophic and the oil only occasionally needs topping up.
31st August
A tapping on the hull woke me up after a couple of hours sleep. A fishing pirogue alongside and a face peering through the porthole next to me. The wind had dropped and we were just drifting. Maybe they were thinking of salvage? I quickly dragged on my dress and said good morning! Big smiles and apologetic waving and they left me in peace.
1st September
Another windless day and 1 knot of current against us. Komodo Island, famous for it’s dragons, to port. We won’t be stopping there.
I did some tidying up and bottled half of the batch of wine that I had started in Fiji before leaving. It had to be made with raw brown sugar as refined white was unobtainable in Savusavu. It will be interesting to taste the result. The colour looks rather unusual.
We are going slowly backwards.
3rd September
A strong gusty wind and a bouncy sea caused by a counter current. This is becoming tedious.
5th September
0200 Woke up for a quick look around and we were nearly on top of two fishing boats. Just managed to turn away and clear the stern of the nearest one. A close shave.
When the sun came up the island of Lombok was just visible. 83 miles to go to Gili Gedi.
7th September
After sailing along the north coast of Lombok we had to turn south into the Lombok Strait which has a reputation for having a very strong southerly current, reputed to run up to 8 knots at spring tides. This was the main reason that I had chosen to sail north of the island chain rather than try to turn against the current into the strait from a southerly approach. Close to shore the current was hardly noticeable but when I ventured further out towards the middle of the channel it was ferocious with some nasty eddies. I had to use the engine to maintain control as the wind had gone light again. There was also a lot of shipping in the main part of the channel. I hugged the shore.
As the sun came up I was amazed to see literally hundreds of small outrigger craft with crab claw sails crossing the strait. I held my course and they deftly sailed around me. Most seemed to be heading for the harbour just north of Gili Gede. Commuters? It was a wonderful panorama.
I made my way past some small islands and soon had the marina in sight. I managed to call them on the VHF and a dinghy came out and showed me where I could anchor.
Only one problem. While I was at sea and incommunicado, the country had closed its borders to foreign tourists. So now I wait in limbo. Not able to clear in and go ashore and uncertain of what might evolve. The marina staff are very helpful and have provided me with a local sim card for my phone and will happily arrange to get fuel, water and provisions. There is a chance that Indonesia might open again shortly so we wait and hope. I cracked the bottle of bubbly anyway.
