After checking Spirit over thoroughly in Rebak, clearing out and and taking on fuel at the harbor marina in Telaga, we headed north along the western coast of Langkawi and crossed the border into Thailand. I was underway with Cetin, my first officer on many törns (sailing trips) in the Mediterranean, and his girlfriend Silvia.
Just before dark we arrived in the vast cove of Ao Talo Udang, located at the southern end of Koh Tarutao. This is the largest island of the 51-island National Park Archipelago and our cove was once the site of a penal colony for political prisoners. Little remains of this outpost as the British Army was asked to close the colony down in 1946. Position: 06.31,047N - 099.40,976E *
* I provide positions so that anyone using Google Earth can follow our journey and call up further images from these places.
It was the first time I had anchored with Spirit and although we had some issues with the windlass just before departing Rebak, these were solved by replacing several corroded cables leading to the winch. I also had 70 meters of new (U.S.-made) 8mm chain in the locker. Nonetheless, when the wind picked up to 20 knots with gusts of 25, although we were anchored in lee of the island, I decided to sleep on deck.
Despite numerous awakenings for a quick lookabout, with the wind howling through the rigging at times, it was nonetheless a good and (strangely enough) restful night. The wind eased off towards morning and I got a few more hours of sleep in.
After a quick and early breakfast we picked up our anchor and motored north on a heading of 320° towards our next destination: the twin islands of Koh Rok Nok and Koh Rok Nai located at 7°12.825N - 99°04.160E. After a short morning wind, which died down as quickly as it had come, we were left to our own devices, which in our case, was a well-maintained 65hp Yanmar turbo-diesel.
It became a long, hot and very humid day. As the autopilot could not be repaired in Rebak either, we had to steer by hand the entire voyage. Initially, I was a bit exasperated to be without such a vital piece of equipment but as the voyage went on, I came to appreciate the attentiveness that sitting at the wheel and actually steering the ship brings with itself. In these waters the value of a good lookout cannot be overemphasized.
As luck would have it, there was no way we would reach our anchorage between Koh Rok Nok and Koh Rok Nai before darkness would fall. The islands are surrounded by coral reefs and I knew that when we went in between the two, we would have to keep a very close eye on the depth sounder in order to enter safely. Regrettably the radar wasn't feeling like working, so all we had was the plotter on the pc, the depth sounder and our ears.
As we motored along the western coast of Koh Rok Nok into ever deepening darkness, we encountered a large number of Thai fishing boats with their bright lights. I told Cetin and Silvia not to look at them as they would destroy our night-vision. Trusting the plotter, we sailed on until we arrived at the narrow passage between the islands and we headed in. In order to avoid the coral reefs to Stb. I stuck closer to the cliffs on Ko Rok Nai until I reached the depth at which I wanted to let the anchor go. We went in really slowly and with great care.
At the very moment precisely, when I wanted to drop the anchor, a light came on directly in front of Spirit's bow and blinked several times in succession. It was a fisherman in his completely unlit skiff, who was anchored there. I nearly ran the bugger down. I had Spirit in reverse faster than you can say "fish shit" and was able to turn her bow to starboard, missing the fisherman and his boat. She backed out of there very nicely. A bit further out again, the anchor went down in 9 meters of water and two minutes later we were secure with 50 meters of chain out.
First, I went below and got myself a beer. Then, I went back up on deck and silently screamed at the fisherman, who I might have bloody killed. How can these people sit in entirely unlit fishing boats like that? I mean, what does a small lamp actually cost?
Why don't they use them? And why didn't I have my bloody radar working?
Touché.
It was then that I took a look upward and saw what I thought were more unusual clouds. Staring up, it took me a while to realize that I wasn't seeing clouds but the Milky Way, in all its glory. I found the Belt of Orion and noticed that there were two stars there I had never seen before. They were the "dagger" that points at the middle star. So far out at sea and with two islands blocking off all light, which might have reached us from the mainland, the firmament was as brightly lit as I've ever seen it before. It was astounding. So many stars. Who woulda thunk it. I had a second beer.
The next morning we were up early. Cetin and Silvia were in the water faster than the blink of an eye. I also went into the depths, in order to find out why the log wasn't working. The impeller appeared to be free of obstructions but with the help of a small plastic spoon, I removed various encrustations and other marine life from the blades. It helped, but upon taking off again I noted that the real speed Spirit was making was only indicated up to 80%. Something still wasn't working.
While snorkeling under Spirit I noticed how clear the water was. I could see down to 9 meters (27 feet) as if it were just air. Numerous fish were swimming about, so colorful and curious about me. I swam over to the rocks near the shore and felt as if I were just floating through air. The water temperature was 29 degrees Celsius. I found a perfectly usable Admiralty's anchor stuck between the rocks. It had apparently been cut lose and just left there. When I go back next time I think I'll go down and haul it out.
We had some trouble getting our own anchor up but after a few maneuvers we had it on deck and were underway again. Next destination: the Phi Phi Islands. There was no wind on this day again and so we motored north at 6 knots and 1900 rpm's. The diesel engine just hummed.
As the day wore on we could see rain-clouds forming over the mainland and then drift out to sea. Soon, the entire sky to the east of our location turned dark grey and we saw that a good a mount of rain was coming down over there. The front appeared to be passing in a westerly direction directly across our course. The Phi Phi Islands, which we could already see in the distance later in the day, were enveloped and then simply disappeared behind that grey wall of cloud and rain, that swept over them.
I considered changing course but realized that by the time we would reach its current position, the front would be past us and far out at sea. I should add, however, that were I to encounter clouds such as these in the Adriatic or the Balearic islands, I would head straight for the nearest port or marina without delay.
I have now learned that in Malaysia and Thailand one can be hit by storms quite suddenly and the wind will rise to 30 and maybe even 40 knots at times but on the whole, despite the never-ending spectacle the clouds offer, it is a gentler and kinder environment than the Mediterranean. I would never underestimate it but feel much less threatened, as opposed to when a Bora strikes my ship off the coast of Croatia.
I've uploaded a number of images, which capture the drama of this front passing ahead of us and over the Phi Phi islands. I admit that I was enthralled by the display. I gave Cetin and Silvia instructions regarding what needed to be done should the front have hit us. Most of it had to do with quickly shutting hatches and portholes as well as stowing anything below, which might be disposed towards flying about.
The rain did come with the suddenness I was expecting and the hatches were quickly closed. But it all passed within a few minutes and other than a wet deck, that was the end of the story. We continued on our way and watched the front move off towards the west and the vast expanse of the Indian Ocean. The Phi Phi Islands reappeared in due time and we made landfall well before darkness.
[As I read these lines I realize that any "old salts", who have been through all of this many times before, will be laughing at my observations. Yet, we all began at the beginning at some time and there is that learning-curve. I welcome any of my critics to Croatia at the end of March, to 45-55 knot winds and the happy Bora Season. We shall then see who laughs last. :-)]
We made it into South Phi Phi Don before dark and anchored on the west side of the harbor, near the cliffs.
As far as I'm concerned, South Phi Phi is an insane asylum. The Discos on the island blared loud and insensate music all night long. The boat traffic was never-ending. Guests were transfered to and from restaurant ships until late into the night. It was sort of a SE Asian Bedlam. After so many quiet days at sea it simply felt like all that I had hoped to leave behind me.
While in Phi Phi, Cetin and I took out the log impeller. I pulled it after carefully reading the instructions and with a great attention to detail, removed a long, white worm from its inner workings with a pair of tweezers. That, in the end, did the job and the log measured our speed (and distance) exactly from that moment onward, as confirmed by the GPS. The worm applied for a work permit on Phi Phi and is now working in one of the discos.
As the AC generator was also on strike, we read further detailed instructions and installed a new impeller. Thereafter the generator worked for about two hours before shutting down once more. Again, no juice, no air conditioning. Further instructions were read and we came to the conclusion, after opening several coverings and inspecting the electronics, that the capacitor needed replacement. It had apparently burst open and spewed its black guts all over the electronics of my AC generator.
This mess was carefully removed and we decided to await our arrival in Phuket for further steps to be taken. No air-con till then. This left me feeling a bit
frustrated so I decided to tackle the newly-installed forward head, which was
leaking from a fitting with each stroke of the pump. Despite attempts at
carefully tightening the clamp in question, the amount of water squirting out
was not reduced by much. Apparently the seal, or lack thereof, was causing the
problem.
As this particular seal was
not to be found in the spare-parts kit, the issue was solved by cutting off two
fingers of a surgical glove (this included the middle one so that the repair
was lent a bit of symbolism), removing the tips and fitting them concentrically
over the end of the pipe. We had fashioned a seal – but would it work? We
carefully put everything back together again, tightened the new clamp around
the fitting and… it worked! The head remained as dry as a bone from then on.
Exhilarated by this
success, we embarked upon changing the fan-belt of the Yanmar, which had begun
to squeak annoyingly after each cold-start. The old one had been stretched to the limit and couldn’t be
tightened further. A new belt went in with Cetin talking me though the
procedure. I must admit, I’ve never done it before myself. That’s the trouble
with always sailing on chartered boats and having crack mechanics, electricians
and technology freaks on board – they just love demonstrating their competence.
So I guess I learned a lot that day.
It was a loud night in Phi Phi with the discos pounding away in the distance so I slept below. We weighed anchor early after having a good breakfast. Leaving the harbor there was a fair amount of traffic on the water with fishermen coming and going, diving ships taking off for the nearby islands and ferries from Phuket arriving with day-trippers.
Towards the end of the
afternoon we sailed along the southern coast of Koh Lon, an island
located at the entrance of Au Chalong. We were coming in at low tide and the
water-depth of the channel was 4-5 meters at the most. I kept to the middle of the channel, with an
eye on the depth sounder and took it nice and slowly. Along the northern shore of Koh Lon I could see vast stretches of wet, gleaming sand and occasional rocks.
We made it into the
anchorage without trouble and dropped anchor in four meters of water. The day was ending with
another beautiful sunset. Cold beers were passed around for one and all and as darkness fell we sat in the
cockpit and just took it all in. Many ships were anchored around us, anchor
lights were coming on and perhaps it is the huge statue of Buddha up on the
hill overlooking the bay, which made everything so calm and peaceful.
To be continued...
... and we shall all look foreward to reading installment number two of this spirituous adventure.
Posted by: Earlaiman | April 05, 2009 at 16:44