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The Andamans

The Andaman Sea cradles a breathtaking archipelago of some of the most stunningly quintessential tropical islands anyone is likely to see. Making this region so attractive to yachties is the benefit that many of the islands offer safe haven from either of the two prevailing weather patterns impacting the region.

The North East Monsoon, running from November to April, brings with it cooler, drier weather with clearer skies and calmer seas. The South West Monsoon, operating from May through October, is characterized by heavy rain, strong winds, and high humidity. It’s no surprise that the tourism high season of Phuket and the surrounding islands corresponds with the South West Monsoon.

In any case, neither of these seasons offer much by way of particularly challenging weather for the modestly experienced sailor. Although attention does need to be paid to developing weather conditions in adjacent regions, especially the South China Sea, where regular storms can draw in “dirty” air from across the Andaman Sea, bringing with it heavy winds and waves. Notwithstanding this, the abundance of nearby islands and the options of an east or west anchorage on many of them make the ability to find a safe haven relatively easy. And, for the most part, the weather is predictable, aided by many readily available modern weather forecasting accouterments.

Anchorages around the islands are typically sandy or muddy bottomed surfaces, affording strong holding. The one downside of the area is that winds can we fickle, and so it is not uncommon to find day hops between islands accomplished by motor sailing, or just motoring.

Powder white sandy beaches unfurled beneath swaying palms are dotted with laid-back local beach bars and open aired restaurants, serving ice cold beer and delicious local cuisine. Accommodation ashore can vary from a barefoot bamboo bungalow cooled only by a lazy ceiling fan and the night breeze, or six-star marble-and-teak palaces with private plunge pools, and every shade of comfort (and price tag) in between. Most of them welcome boaters ashore for a swim in a pool, a seat at the bar, or a table for dinner. It truly is a magnificent part of the world to base yourself and your boat, and to welcome family and friends who might wish to visit.

Toby, Kristy, Matt & Karen

Luna Blu is, by most standards of cruising catamarans, not a small boat. She was initially designed and built for the European charter market and was thus designed with accommodating many people in mind rather than her sailing performance. That’s not to suggest her sailing performance is lackluster, but she is designed and built for bums on seats, so to speak! In her original configuration she could accommodate, uncomfortably it has to be said, upwards of twelve people. That many people in such a confined space is the very definition of close quarter living, and doing so requires not a skerrick of modesty by anyone.

Zippy and I, as liveaboards, have tended to configure the boat for a smaller numbers of guests. One cabin has been converted into a workshop, where we have a workbench, spare parts, tools, etc. Another cabin, originally designed for accommodating people, has been transformed into a storage room for cushions, spare sails and provisions for longer passages. The third toilet was removed altogether. There are not too many land based apartments for two people that have more than two bathrooms, so why should a boat have three (it was originally built with four, but the previous owner had already, sensibly, removed one). Twelve passengers is a nonsense, but six can work relatively comfortably, once everyone accepts that there’s not a finite supply of fresh water and electricity aboard. We like to be comfortable aboard, but there’s nothing more effective than low batteries or an empty water tank to quickly focus behaviors with regards water and electrical usage.

My brother, Toby, and his partner, Kristy arrived together with our close family friends, Matthew and Karen. Perhaps by way of brief introduction. Toby has a tendency to develop bowel insecurities the moment he travels outside his own postcode. Add to that, a morbid dislike of any toilet other than his own, and you have a recipe for trouble that would impress the gruffest Marco Pierre White. Speaking of trouble, Toby’s longtime partner, Kristy. Kristy has obviously paid a keen interest in maintaining her physical well being. A chiseled physique born out of her side hustle as a gym instructor. It was made very clear that Kristy avoids, at all costs, garlic and onion. Garlic and Onion are a near staple aboard Luna Blu, but we would see what we could do. Matt, a most capable fisherman who you might often find at sea with a line in the water, and an ice, ouzo & coke in his hand. A loveable larrikin with a heart as big as a pumpkin. And finally Karen. The calming influence, a steady hand. The Ying to Matt’s Yang. A woman who is quite literally unflappable! All four of them very much looking forward to joining us aboard for a weeks visit on the boat and that excitement was reciprocated by Zippy and myself.

Mokol Moul, another round please?

Having arrived at our first anchorage for the trip, and the day having not been especially taxing, it was determined, unanimously, that the best course of action should be be take relief at the hotel bar ashore. Elixir Hotel, located on the west coast of Koa Yao Yai, is a long standing favorite, and has been a main stay of the regular loops we do with guests. The anchorage beyond the hotel is a small one, able to accommodate no more than 2 boats, which ensures a quiet night without the worry of how neighboring boats have set their anchor, and how much anchor chain they have released. Situated on the west coast, you are afforded magnificent sunset views with Luna Blu in the foreground, as one takes advantage of the 2-for-1 Happy Hour(s).

A Moscow mule is a cocktail made of 3 parts vodka, 1 part ginger beer, and 1 part lime juice; garnished with a slice or wedge of lime and ice. Properly served in a copper mug. It’s become a bit of a favorite of mine for when the anchor is set, chores onboard are complete and the sun starts to bleed into the sea. Coincidentally, the Moscow Mule was one of the drinks on a modest list of cocktails that formed this days Happy Hour menu. And so with the collective eagerness that a holidays first night brings, and with ears were pinned back, away we went. Starting at the top of the list and methodically sampling our way down the menu, before we settled on the Moscow Mule as the drink that would see us through the second hour of happiness. It wasn’t necessarily that it was everyone’s preferred drink, rather it was the way the delightfully pleasant lady who was serving us this evening pronounced the name. Mocko mool, Moko Moooo, Morkle Mooooo, It’s hard to put to paper her exact pronunciation, but however it sounded, it was enough for us to challenge her again and again, each attempt met with childish giggling before someone would step in and confirm “Mokol Moul, another round please”. I’m confident the islands stock of limes were entirely depleted that night and that scurvy would have certainly descended upon the islands population. I’m equally confident the wait staff were amazed we hadn’t all dropped dead from over indulgence, conveniently forgetting their cunning strategy of having designed their own version of a Moscow Mule as half part vodka, 2 parts ginger beer and 2.5 parts lime juice.

Regardless, it was a nice way to kick start the trip, and eased us all comfortably into island life rhythm.

Koh Mook, Emerald Cave & The British Tourist

One of the many delights of traveling far and wide is the people you randomly meet, the stories they have, and the new stories created.

We arrived at a beautifully secluded little cove located on the western side of the tiny little island of Ko Muk. There is nothing ashore resembling any human habitation, save for the occasional pile of washed up plastic bottles and other such sea drift. We took the dinghy ashore to explore. Our own private beach, it was delightful.

All of a sudden movement was noticed at one end of the beach and through the overhanging coconut trees emerged a young woman who, it transpires, had walked herself through the jungle, from the opposite side of the island and had pre-arranged with her hotel for a longtail to come and collect her. She had been waiting for the longtail to arrive for some hours . Wonderfully independent, if not a little brave, she seemed quite relieved to see us and so after we started talking, and realising there was every chance her ride back to her hotel was likely not coming, she eagerly accepted an invitation to join us onboard as we were headed around to a popular part of the island from where she could easily find transport back to her lodgings.

A hông (Thai for “room”) is the name used for a hollowed-out heart of an island: a soaring, half-collapsed sea cave that conceals a secret lagoon ringed by a sliver of beach and open to the sky. Reached only when the tide is right, either swimming of paddling a kayak through a low, dripping tunnel that suddenly spills you into an hidden emerald paradise.

Together with our new found English Tourist, we all donned life jackets or any such flotation device and jumped into the water. Joining a throng of gaggling tourists deposited by a flotilla of longtails and tour boats and slowly, hopelessly slowly formed into along single file, we then entered the dark cave. A turn left and suddenly it was black-out, not a glimmer of light. Literally nothing could be seen ahead of you. The only guide was the person immediately ahead of you, who was holding the person in front of them, and in turn the person in front of them and so on, until reaching the lead guide who, with the aid of a small torch, was able to lead this line of hundreds of people through the snaking cave. Progress was also painfully slow, and the screams of delight or fear were ear piercing. But all of a sudden, a turn to the right, light at the end of the tunnel and quickly the cave opened up into this majestic sun filled hollowing. Sheer cliffs circling us, reaching upwards to the sky, perhaps two hundred meters high. Crystal clear water, powder white sand, it was breathtaking!

After that experience we motored around to the popular Charlie Beach, secured the boat, and then debarked for the beach, and the bars surrounding it. We watched a bright crimson sun setting on the horizon and drank, sang, told tall stories and enjoyed each others company. It was a night of great laughter and merriment.

Things took a gently absurd turn when Matt, having already showered the bar staff with lavish tips, dropped to all fours and struck up a friendship with a scruffy local cat, both of them rolling in the sand like old mates, perfectly, hilariously in sync. It was precisely then that our day-guest, in a flash of impeccable timing and self-preservation, decided her wisest course was a graceful, immediate exit.

Such a fun trip, the weather was, for the most part, kind to us. We did battle though a couple of days of rougher weather bringing with it a mild bout of sea sickness, but otherwise we were blessed with weather, family & friends.

Not a single fish troubled the hook.
Toby’s gut and travel demons stayed mercifully quiet.
Kristy learned that garlic and onion in the tropics doesn’t have anywhere near the punch that the suburban equivalent apparently does.
And without Karen holding the whole circus together, Lord knows where we’d have washed up.

Back ashore, and with a few spare days before guests were to fly home and fortuitously that corresponded with Thailand’s Songkran water festival. Fun – and another chapter!

In loving memory of Jonno, David & Marcia