Speedwell of Hong Kong

Gili Air

Saturday, December 18th, 2021

December 2021

I left Gili Asahan early on a rainy morning heading for Gili Air about 25nm away on the NW corner of Lombok. I raised the sail before dropping the mooring ball, ever hopeful, but I had to motor away from the mooring.

Maybe there would be enough of a breeze once I was away from the shelter of the anchorage. A gentle North-running current was forecast so at least I would have this to help us along. Sure enough, once out in the channel, there was a little bit of wind and I switched off the noisy engine. We drifted peacefully along at 1.5 knots for about an hour by which time I realized that if I wanted to get in before dark we would have to do some motor sailing. And so it was until just 5 miles off when a southerly breeze picked up nicely and we were able to sail for the last few miles of the trip.

The anchorage at Gili Air is well protected by reefs on either side, clearly marked by breaking waves. I picked up a handy mooring and enjoyed the sunset.

The next morning a local boat arrived and I paid for the use of the mooring. While we were settling up Das, one of the men, pointed out that my prop was fouled with a bunch of plastic bags. He very kindly managed to clear it for me with the use of my boathook. That could explain why we seemed to be moving more slowly than expected while we were motoring.

For the next few days it rained heavily and I stayed on board quite glad to be collecting rain water to fill my tanks and do some washing. A bright pink tourist boat, moored nearby, brightened the scene.

As soon as the rain cleared I bailed out the dinghy and rowed ashore to the beach. There are no motorised vehicles on the island so pony carts are used for carrying any heavy loads. They were lined up, patiently waiting, near the shore where the small ferry boats from the mainland arrive.

I needed the exercise so went for a walk all the way around the island. Practically all the tourist bars and hotels were closed with just a few catering for the odd stragglers or local visitors. The rest were boarded up and mostly slowly succumbing to encroaching waves or jungle. Not a happy sight.

Back at the starting point I went looking for a shop, hoping for some fresh fruit and vegetables. I found the main ‘street’ that runs towards the centre of the island and a very good shop with all I needed. Plenty of ATM’s which was a pleasant surprise as there are none on Gili Gede and cash is still needed for most things here.

Unfortunately, the next day the wind strengthened and was blowing on shore and through the gap in the reef which made the anchorage very uncomfortable and almost impossible for me to get ashore in my light dinghy. I decided to move across to the mainland on the opposite side of the channel where there is another small bay which looked as if it would be much better sheltered.

It was only about 2.5 nm across and I soon arrived at Teluk Nara which was beautifully calm and sheltered. The water was rather deep, about 25m, and I don’t have an electric windlass so I motored around looking for a mooring. All the shallower water close to the shore was crowded with local fishing or dive boats. At last I found an unused mooring which needed a bit of untangling. I sorted it out and tied up then tested it by reversing gently backwards. It seemed OK.

There is quite a big dock to cater for ferries taking people across to the Gili islands but only small boats were using it now. I left my dinghy on the beach and went exploring. Everyone I spoke to immediately knew that I was from the small yellow boat. All very friendly. As usual, all very amazed that I was doing this alone.

There was a very pleasant bar/restaurant overlooking the bay and I treated myself to nasi goreng and a beer for lunch. I enjoyed a few peaceful days, just messing about, doing odd jobs on the boat and making use of the warung ashore for lunch as it saved having to find a shop and cooking and was super-cheap. But trouble was looming. A very strong adiabatic gust off the mountain had me out on deck to see if all was fine, only to realize that the mooring, which I had obviously been too gentle in testing, had dragged a long way and we were very close to another big boat anchored out in the bay. I dropped the mooring and motored closer in hoping for shallower water. The best I could find was 23m. Dropped the anchor and let out 60m of chain. I’ve done it before so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

What was more of a problem was the dreadful toothache that had erupted. A dentist was essential. I won’t go into gory details, but it involved finding a driver to take me to the nearest small town with a ‘dokter gigi’ who did her best to help me and at least stopped the pain. Further treatment will have to wait.

It was time to head back to base at Gili Gede but now the wind was stubbornly blowing from the south which is the direction I needed to go. I managed to haul the heavy chain up and made the short hop back to Gili Air to do some shopping and was delighted to find a bottle of ‘champagne’ at a corner shop. Christmas is coming and I’ve been invited to join friends on Bali. I was also happy to stock up with some really good mangoes, papaya and avocados. What a treat!

Next day the wind was light and variable and I made it back to Marina del Ray. Mostly motor sailing but very pleasant. Rob from Lalamanzi came over to help me choose a mooring. He and Muzzi will also be going to Ruth’s place on Bali for Christmas. I’ll be taking a ferry across and leaving Speedwell at the marina.

Tags: Gili Islands, Indonesia, Lombok
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Second Jab and a Slinky Visitor

Monday, November 22nd, 2021

November 2021

Time was running on and I still hadn’t had my second Covid vaccination. It has become essential for any sort of travel and I decided to make an effort to get it done. Friends of mine had been told that foreign visitors had to go to a particular clinic in Mataram. I had been planning a trip there to get an extension of my visa so it didn’t seem like too much of a problem. However, when I mentioned it to Albert who was managing the extension procedure, he offered to make some inquiries and about half an hour later he had arranged for a friend of his in the police force to take me to a nearby village where I could get the shot. It seemed like a good opportunity and we roared across to the mainland in the marina dinghy where the policeman and his motorbike were waiting on the jetty. I climbed up onto the machine and we sped off down the narrow road that follows the coast. It was quite a long ride.

At last we arrived at a cluster of small houses and a group of nurses and medics gathered in a ‘pondok’ which is a little raised platform with a palm-frond roof. They were quite happy to give me the jab, but only had Sinovac which I had been told I should not have in combination with the Astra Zeneca I’d been given in Fiji. After some consultation, involving Google Translate on my phone, and a mere half-hour wait, a special delivery of Pfizer was made. What wonderful service.

The next day I was feeling a bit washed out due to a reaction to the vaccine and spent most of the day sleeping on my bunk. At some point in the afternoon I got up to get some fresh air outside and as I glanced across at the opposite bunk where I usually sit at my little table, I was rather startled to see a long silver and black banded snake smoothly moving along the top of the cushions and across the table. Wow. I grabbed my phone and took a picture, hopped into my dinghy and rowed ashore for help. One of the marina staff came back with me and very calmly and competently lifted the snake with the help of a broomstick and put it into my canvas bucket. It was then taken some distance away from the boat and released in the middle of the channel.

A beautiful creature but extremely venomous. I was told that it was a Banded Sea Krait and they are quite common here. Fortunately not aggressive. OK. So now I am supremely conscious of where I place my feet when I come below, and check before sticking my hand into the dark recesses of a locker. Awareness is all! Friends in the nearby anchorage at Gili Asahan have had one come aboard four nights in a row.

Tags: Covid, Krait, Lombok
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Getting around on Lombok

Thursday, November 4th, 2021

22 October 2021

There are a few tiny kiosks on Gili Gede where I am moored at Marina del Ray but major stocking up has to be done on Lombok itself. If I make an early start I can row my dinghy across to the beach on the mainland before the wind comes up and walk or catch a tuk-tuk to the small town of Pelangan about 2 kilometers inland. The main attraction is the big market for fresh fruit and vegetables.

I was there on Monday morning and the crowds were almost overwhelming. The narrow road absolutely crammed with motor bikes, most with 2 or more people and bags and bundles. The women modestly covered with flapping long sarongs and hijabs. The heat is intense. In the shade of the market narrow walkways separate the stalls laden with an amazing range of stuff from eggs, meat, fruit and vegetables, to clothing, kitchenware, machetes and tools. Herbs, spices, sweets, rice in open baskets. Everyone seems to be talking. I am trying to learn a little Indonesian and manage to catch an occasional word. Some wear masks but social distancing is quite impossible. Only cash is acceptable and the nearest ATM is in Sekotong about 20 minutes away by car.

The nearest supermarket is in Mataram about an hour away by car. I have been able to share the trip a few times with other yotties and it makes for an exciting day. The narrow winding road follows the coast and passes through a few small villages. Most of the traffic is 2 or 3-wheeled with a few carts drawn by ponies. Cars are the exception. The pace is frenetic. (And people think crossing an ocean is dangerous!)

On one of the trips, when our shopping was done, we visited a Hindu temple. A guide showed us around after tying yellow sashes around our waists. He kept up a running commentary which may have been very interesting and informative, but my hearing and his accent conspired to make it totally unintelligible.

No matter, I enjoyed just tagging along behind the others and looking about at the sometimes grotesquely weird statues guarding doorways and stairs and the elaborately carved and colourful shrines. It made a wonderful contrast to the vanilla flavoured shopping mall.

Another expedition was organised by Jürg whom I met in Savusavu on his boat Aurelia. This time it was to see a waterfall, or air terjun, Benang Kelambu, right in the centre of Lombok near the Rinjani volcano. Once again we had to have a guide and it was a beautiful walk through the jungle to reach the series of spectacular falls.

I had a swim in one of the pools at the final set of falls and the cool water was wonderfully refreshing. On the way back the path reached a track and a woman on a scooter was there and offered to give me a ride back to the entrance for a small fee. I would have been quite happy to walk but it looked as if it could be fun and I agreed. The track was steep and rutted and the ride turned out to be more exciting than I had expected, but what a thrill!

I waited for the rest of the party to plod their weary way back and we had lunch at a small restaurant in the park. Before we had finished eating, the clouds rolled over and there was a tropical deluge complete with ear-shattering thunder. Could this be the start of the rainy season?

But Jürg had yet another experience planned and off we were driven to Sukarara, a village where traditional weaving is done. Two women were seated at looms weaving busily away as we watched. Finished lengths of the intricately patterned cloth were displayed all round. We were whisked into a showroom and dressed up in fancy sarongs and sashes. The men all looked very dashing in their exotic gear. Many pictures were taken.

Another small island, Gili Asahan, is a short sail away. It is a better place for swimming and snorkelling with much less boat traffic. I spent a few days there moored near a beautiful ‘Eco Lodge’. The shore is crowded with outrigger boats waiting for visitors, but apart from a handful of yachts there is hardly anyone around.

I spent a few hours walking all the way around the island, deserted beaches, empty resort hotels, goats and cows. No roads or cars, just a sandy track. Quite blissful.

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Back to Gili Gede

Sunday, October 10th, 2021

October 2021

As soon as all the paperwork was done I had to leave Benoa to make room for a big ship that was expected to arrive that evening. I moved a few miles north to Serangan which is a better anchorage for yachts. It was another narrow entrance through the reef, but pretty straightforward and well marked. I found a comfortable place to anchor for the night. I was anxious to leave the next day as it would be neap tides and I hoped the vicious current would be more manageable. Another ‘final’ document was kindly delivered to the boat by Adi who had given me such good advice for crossing the Badung Strait.

I started out at 0600 with just enough light to see my way safely out of the crowded bay. I had been able to get some extra diesel before leaving Benoa and I expected to have to do some motoring. I had been advised to stay close-in until I reached the big landmark hotel at Sanur. The current which had helped us south on the way to Benoa was now slowing us down to just over 2 knots. Over 50 miles to go, but at least we weren’t going backwards.

When we got abeam of the hotel I edged further out and soon realized that I’d have to carry on in the shallower water for as long as possible to maximise our chances of getting across the strait. I had the full sail up but, as usual in the early morning, there was no wind to help my hard-working 13HP diesel engine. On we chugged. Waves crashing against the reefs to port and choppy, disturbed water and whirling eddies showing the current in the deeper water to starboard. Hand-steering was the only way to proceed. For a short while we actually enjoyed a counter-current which gave us a little push northward. I really fancied a caffeine fix but couldn’t leave the tiller. In desperation, I dashed below and brought my emergency camping stove into the cockpit and managed to brew up a much needed espresso.

When we reached Padang Bai, the port that the ferry to Lembar leaves from, I started to move out and head across the strait. Just about then, the wind came up quite strongly from the east. Dead on the nose. Great. I fell off a little to fill the sail which meant we were now about 30° off course. But motoring dead to windward in a choppy sea was not an option. The day wore on. It was becoming obvious that there was no way that we would get to Gili Gede before dark. The Lembar ferry shuttled back and forth on a nearly parallel track. It was becoming a familiar sight.

When we eventually reached the traffic separation scheme it was pitch dark and the moon had not yet come up. We were plugging along at 1.5 knots, but at least the wind had dropped and it was a bit more comfortable. The ferry passed again and this time gave me a quick salute by flashing all its cabin lights! At least with a fairly steady wind, the Navik is able to hold the course quite well when motor-sailing. At about 0200 we at last reached shallower water and the current was much easier. I had no intention of negotiating the approach to Marina del Ray in the dark. A number of unlit small islands and pearl farms cluttering the channels. Normally I would have been able to heave-to and snatch a bit of sleep, but the current was still strong enough to make that impossible. Instead I was able to balance our forward progress against the current and almost stay in one place, at least we no longer needed the noisy engine. Back to hand-steering.

At last at about 0500 I reckoned it was time to start the final approach. Still dark, but if the sun came up as scheduled it would be light by the time we reached the tricky bits. But the fun wasn’t quite over yet. As we were sailing along a very bright light suddenly flashed close by. What was that?! There’s another one! As I peered carefully into the blackness I could make out quite a lot of what looked like sticks all around. When the next light flashed, I realised it was the fleet of outrigger boats fishing in the bay. Well, at least they kept me awake. No way to avoid them, but Speedwell was well lit and I added another bright light in the cockpit, held my course, and trusted them to miss me.

By the time Marina del Ray came in sight the sun was well up and I thankfully anchored in the same spot as before at 0900. No sleep for 27 hours. I went below and started making up the deficit.

By lunchtime I had recovered enough to row ashore and enjoy a much-needed shower followed by a short stroll along a coastal path and a sinful G&T at the marina bar. Brilliant!

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Clearing in to Indonesia

Sunday, September 26th, 2021

25 September 2021

I spent nearly 3 weeks anchored off Marina del Ray waiting for a decision to be made about whether I would be allowed to clear in to Indonesia. Rules were in a state of flux and confusion reigned. I was not allowed to leave the boat, but was well looked after by the marina staff who took care of my shopping and arranged for diesel to refill my tanks.

I took the opportunity to remove the sail and applied some necessary patches. Quite a few seams needed to be restitched. My faithful little hand-cranked sewing machine performed valiantly. I made some temporary repairs to the topping lifts, but they really need to be completely replaced. That will have to wait until I know what the next few days will bring. I also did a more thorough job of fixing the oil leak, first draining the old oil and really cleaning and sanding the sump around the rusty plug before applying a bigger and better patch of epoxy steel. It worked very well, although I still keep an absorbent nappy in place, just in case. I also replaced the fuel filter which was getting a bit gungy.

Eventually, I was officially notified that the only place that foreign yachts could clear in was at Batam which is about 1000nm north of Lombok, close to Singapore. I was just starting to get my mind around this when I was told by Albert from Marina del Ray that he and Fiona of Bali Marine had been able find out that it might be possible to get emergency clearance in Bali due to the repairs needed to make my rig sea-worthy again. And happily for me, they were able to arrange it.

Only snag was that I had to sail 50 miles across the Lombok Strait and anchor in Bali’s Benoa Harbour which is their main commercial harbour and has a difficult entrance through the reefs with strong tidal currents. I was instructed to arrive on Saturday for clearing in. It was a few days past full moon when the tides would be high and currents strong. Not a date that I would have chosen myself. But one doesn’t argue in a situation like this, so I set off hopefully on Friday morning with full diesel tanks. The plan was to cross from Lombok to Lembongan Island, which is a bit more than half-way across, anchor there for the night and do the last 15nm to Benoa on Saturday morning. It’s always good to have a plan.

There was no wind when I started out at 0600. Once again I found myself surrounded by a swarm of traditional Jukung outrigger boats. They all seemed to be coming across the strait, looking like water-beetles skimming along. Crab claw sails but most of them also using long-tail outboard motors. By 0800 the rush hour was over and I was heading north west, hoping not to be swept too far south by the strong current running in that direction through the Lombok Strait. It went well. The current seemed to sweep westward to get around Nusa Penida Island and carried me along, sometimes doing 6 knots towards the anchorage at the smaller neighbouring Island of Lembongan. The strait is a major shipping route with a traffic separation scheme and there was a constant stream of enormous tankers and containers ships to be avoided. The current didn’t seem to bother them too much. We were going along so rapidly, I wondered, a little uncomfortably, how it was going to be possible to get back to Gili Gede.

When we arrived at Lembongan, the anchorage was comfortable enough and almost deserted. A small white beach and rows of empty hotel villas. A sober reminder of the realities of the Covid situation. The water was beautifully clear and I had a quick cooling dip. I noticed that the hull had now acquired a sprinkling of small goose barnacles. Not surprising after the long voyage from Fiji. Another job to add to the list, at least the water is warm and it won’t be too hard to scrape them off.

After a relaxing night at anchor I was ready to start the next leg at 0630. I had a bit of trouble getting the anchor up, as it seemed to have become attached to a lump of coral. I motored gently forward and it came free easily enough. I started out motor-sailing close to shore heading well north of my destination on the other side of what was now the Badung Strait between Nusa Penida and Bali. All was going quite well until I noticed a line of breaking waves. No reefs shown on the chart. Hmm. I steered further north to avoid what must be standing waves. As the depth suddenly increased from about 30m to over 100 I was amazed to see that the Navionics app showed that we were now moving directly due south at 5 knots, despite the fact that we were pointing almost NE and motoring hard in that direction. I battled with engine at full revs to motor across the stream to get back to shallower water and out of this mad current. At last I was able to get back to the anchorage. What now? I thought I’d try to motor further north along the coast of the island before venturing out. I was able to get a little further off but was again forced to turn back, only just able to motor out of the current, getting swept a long way south again. I was starting to get a bit worried, so this time when I got back to the Lembongan I re-anchored and contacted Fiona, the agent at Bali Marine to try to get some advice about crossing the Badung Strait. She put me in touch with an experienced boat captain who advised me to first sail 1 mile south of the anchorage and then head across towards Sanur Beach which is well north of Benoa. Also to wait until slack water at noon.

I thought about having another swim while I waited for the right time to leave. As I gazed over the stern I was absolutely aghast to see an enormous snake purposefully swimming towards us. Sinuously approaching directly for the rudder. It was big. Not one of those small sea snakes with a mouth too small to bite one. This serpent had a big, wide, triangular head and a long, thick body. It was a patterned olive green colour. No camera handy to take a photo. I rushed forward to grab the boat hook and splashed around with it to scare the snake away. It disappeared, I know not where. I carefully inspected the rudder and Navik paddle but there was no sign of it. I have a strong aversion to snakes on the boat. It has happened before and I know that they are capable of getting up the stern. Oh, the horror.

No problem getting the anchor up this time although I was keeping a cautious eye out for a snake wound around the chain. I followed the advice I’d been given for crossing the strait which worked very well. We picked up a current that swept us west at 7 knots towards Sanur and once close-in I had no trouble motor-sailing south and entering Benoa Harbour. Panic over. The channel through the reef is well marked and easy to follow. My biggest concern was the busy traffic of small motor boats, jet-skis and two-seater parasails being towed close by. Drones buzzed overhead, big planes taking off and approaching the nearby airport. And this was Bali with no tourists. I hoped I’d be able to get back to peaceful Lombok.

Once through the reef, I WhatsApp’d Fiona to tell her that I’d arrived and sent the requested photo to show her exactly where I was so that she could direct me to the quarantine anchorage. This technology really works very well for me, as with my serious hearing disability the VHF radio is pretty useless. I motored over to the fishing fleet as directed and found a clear place to anchor in 11m. Fiona brought the quarantine people over and some forms had to be completed and signed. All done very smoothly with minimum hassle. My passport was taken back with them for the visa stamp. Later in the day another small boat arrived with a nurse to do the PCR test. Not strictly necessary, I would have thought, but the ‘protocols’ have to be followed. Now I just had to wait for Customs to inspect us, which was scheduled to happen the next day.

As promised, the Customs boat arrived on Sunday morning with about 5 heavily-booted officials on board. My passport was returned with the precious stamp granting me a visitors visa for 60 days, extendable. Wonderful. The customs men needed to come aboard to check my equipment. Photos were taken of the GPS, AIS, VHF, engine, my first aid box complete with band-aids and aspirin, and anything else that seemed interesting. Thankfully only two of them actually came aboard at the same time. Later, the Chief Customs man sat with me in the cockpit and explained all the rules. Just one more document to be delivered for signature and it will all be done.

The final document (vessel declaration or VD) arrived as promised and now I am free to return to Lombok. I may wait a few days for the kinder neap tides which are due midweek.

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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 17^th 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.

22^nd 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.

24^th 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.

26^th 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.

28^th 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.

29^th 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.

30^th 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.

31^st 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.

1^st 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 10^th 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.

3^rd 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.

5^th 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 3^rd 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.

7^th 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.

9^th 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.

10^th 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.

11^th 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.

12^th 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 13^th 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.

15^th 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.

16^th 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.

20^th 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.

22^nd 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.

29^th 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.

3^rd September

A strong gusty wind and a bouncy sea caused by a counter current. This is becoming tedious.

5^th 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.

7^th 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.

Tags: Coral Sea
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