Follow our Track @ NoForeignLand

Langkawi

Until now, at least for us and from the perspective of Malaysia for visiting yachts, the country had been solely represented by it’s north western most region of Langkawi.

Langkawi, unconvincingly nicknamed the Jewel of Kedah, is made up of an archipelago of some 99 islands, a handful more if you wish to include a few rocks that appear and then disappear as the tide dictates. Of all of these islands, only four are inhabited. When one speaks of the place today, they refer singularly to the main island of Langkawi (Pulau Langkawi).

Located adjacent to the southern Thai border and with is strategic geographic location to the trade lanes of the Malacca Straits, the island has been tossed around over the centuries amongst the Malays, the Siamese, the British, the Japanese and ultimately back to the Malays. Go back as far as the 14th century and you’ll find Yuan and Ming Dynasty fingerprints all over the place. Indeed if Langkawi were an orphan child, you’d be forgiven for it feeling a little unloved!

Today, the island of Langkawi is more a tourist spot. An occasional beach, some excellent diving around the many smaller islands, and wonderfully to many of us visiting on a yacht, a cheaper place to buy provisions, stock up on duty free beverages and, holding onto the coat tails of a nation that is a net exporter of crude oil and as such offers attractively subsidized fuel to it’s citizens. While those subsidies don’t apply to visiting boats, the cost of fuel at the dock remains significantly cheaper than you can get at many other countries. Moreover, if you can be bothered hiring a car, loading it up with jerry cans and making your way to an inland petrol station, bypassing the rule limiting the number of jerry cans you can fill each visit, returning to a dinghy, ferrying the jerry cans to your boat, offloading the contents into your fuel tank and then repeating the exercise, you can get some amazingly cheap fuel.

Langkawi’s close proximity to Thailand makes it a particularly popular destination for those who have to reset their Thai tourist visa and/or the Vessel Customs Importation documentation. Essentially a visa run destination for both man and boat!

The prospect therefore of cheap alcohol, diesel, and boat parts, and a place to reset visas has made Langkawi a regular port of call for Luna Blu and her passengers, indeed you could count on two hands the number of times we’d visited the island over the years.

As financially attractive as Langkawi may be, It had always felt that as soon as administrative matters were dealt with, cheaper provisions loaded aboard, and fuel tanked, it was a scurry out of the place, back to the sanctity and familiarity of Thai waters. Surely though, If we were going to tackle wider expanses of water in the future, it would be sensible, if not critical, that we break out of the comfort zone we had found ourselves, and stretch our sea legs, so to speak. Get some sea miles in areas not familiar to us!

Malaysia, here we come!

Malaysia had never really held much of an attraction to me. Years living in Singapore had exposed me to the Malaysian cuisine or a form thereof, and while perfectly agreeable, it doesn’t hold a candle to my otherwise preferred cuisines of Chinese, Thai, and Vietnamese coming a close third. Malaysian cuisine and her Ipoh Hor Fun and hopelessly overrated Chicken Rice Ball of Malacca, amongst other oddities, was further down the list, occupying a place alongside other double digit numbered offerings. The occasional weekend trip into Malaysia had been fine, without being particularly outstanding. Hotel front offices tended to be as per the brochure, but as soon as you exited the elevator onto the designated floor, things tended to go pear shaped quickly. Unkept and seemingly unloved when beyond the glossy cover. Perhaps this was a clash of my expectations not being suitably tempered against the backdrop of the cultural norms of the country? What was of interest however was the prospect of calling into the island of Penang, not previously visited and reportedly excellent. Also, some islands on the east coast were apparently interesting for cruising.

We had determined that for our first longer voyage, a trip down the west coast of Malaysia to Singapore, through the second busiest shipping channel on the planet, and then up the east coast to see what offerings awaited us was going to be the plan!

An ominous start

With Dad onboard for the trip, we completed provisioning in Langkawi and took in a belly full of Diesel. The latter would prove useful. Having completed check-in formalities upon arrival into Langkawi a couple of days earlier, we were advised that despite our plan to remain in Malaysian waters for the foreseeable future, we must first check out of Langkawi, and upon arrival at our next Malaysian port of call, likely to be Penang, then proceed to check in with Immigration, Customs and Harbor Master. I hadn’t expected this. Langkawi is very convenient for this as all of the three offices are within spitting distance of each other. But as for the list of ports we intended to call down the west coast toward Singapore, some only for an overnight rest, i wasn’t across how convenient, or otherwise, this process might be. Somewhat miffed by this, I expressed a modest level of frustration to the three star general who appeared to be masquerading as a Immigration Officer. Judging by the number of stripes on the shoulder, the litter of badges spread across the chest and the crisp creases ironed into the shirt, this individual was not only sat in the wrong office, but was battle hardened. A cursory glance at the officers shoes, however, suggested something altogether different. Bringing to the fore the dichotomy that is Malaysia. It looks wonderful and pristine and even glorious on the surface, but dig a little and things start to fall apart literally and metaphorically. In the case of this particular individual the state of the footwear against the backdrop of her uniform had obviously seen her demoted from Three Star General to Immigration Officer, and a grumpy one at that! There was to be no reasoning today, not with her! So we advised where we intended to call next and she sealed a letter into an envelope, handed it to me and instructed me to not open under any circumstances and to hand it to the Customs Officer at our next nominated port, Penang!

What on earth was inside this envelope i wondered, and why the state craft level of secrecy surrounding it! I felt like a Russian KGB Officer being handed a new assignment, but not at all clear on what the assignment might actually be – all will be revealed eventually i presumed!

We then returned to Luna Blu, who had been waiting patiently for us, anchored in the harbor, a stones throw from the Immigration office complex. We were soon making our way to a delightful little anchorage that was well protected and located as far south of the archipelago as we could find so as to make the following days passage to the island of Penang a little less as it otherwise might have been.

Penang

Penang is a vibrant Malaysian state famous for its cultural diversity, stunning colonial architecture in its capital George Town, and legendary street food, nicknamed the “Pearl of the Orient”. Connected to the Malaysian mainland by two bridges, one to the north, the other to the southern end, it is an historical trading hub with influences from Chinese, Malay, Indian, and British cultures. Penang is perhaps also famous as it was used as a defensive position by the British against an invading Japanese army during WWII. In a blow to British prestige, the Japanese forces landed and in no fewer than 3 quick weeks, occupied the island. Poor British planning, air superiority by the Japanese, and a controversial decision to evacuate only Europeans left the island vulnerable, leading to its rapid fall without much resistance. What followed was the swift fall of the Malayan Peninsula and then Singapore, ably lead, it would appear, by Lieutenant General Yamashita, or otherwise the “Tiger of Malaya,”

Today Penang is a wonderful mix of a modern city with constant reminders of a foregone era.

We weighed anchor just before the morning sun began to trouble the darkness. It was an easy routing out from the anchorage to open water, with fishing nets posing the only obstacle, which on this particular occasion didn’t cause us any trouble. This scourge of fishing nets will rear it’s ugly head in later days. But for now it was a glorious start to the day and highlighted why, to me, the early morning rising sun over a new day is my favorite time of day, especially when experienced from the vantage point upon the water, with nothing but for the sound of the water lapping up against the bows of the yacht, as it marches forward aided by wind if we’re lucky, motor if we aren’t. On this particular morning it was the drum of diesel engine that joined the chorus of noise, and would remain with us for the entire journey, thus is the fickleness of winds in these parts!

Langkawi to Penang is no more that 60 nautical miles. Under motor I typically run the engines at super eco speed, about 1,500 rpm, which gets us about 6 knots of speed over ground, plus or minus whatever current may be working with us or against us. For passage planning purposes i tend to assume an average speed of 6 knots.

Without much useful wind, but otherwise kind weather, we pulled into Straits Quay Marina at about 4pm. Coming into Penang was a new experience for me. Approaching from the north, Penang presents as a built up commercial metropolis, and a far cry from the sandy rimmed tropical islands I’d become accustomed. It appeared a beautiful island. Straits Quay Marina sits at the north east corner of the island, not far from the capital, George Town. The marina is surrounded by modern life, bars and restaurants. It was an altogether different experience for us. Aziz, the Operations Manager at the Marina, had been super helpful guiding us in and was waiting at the berth to tend to lines as we pulled up alongside. A Muslim gentleman by faith, he joined us for a few rounds of thirst quenching beers onboard. In return for him drinking my beer, and much more than I’d expected, we hit him with a volley of questions about the island, things to do, where to eat. He was a fountain of knowledge. We determined immediately that we would extend our scheduled stay in Penang from the originally estimated one night, to four!

With Luna Blu securely tied up, we set about exploring the island. But first, we had to undergo the merry dance that was checking in. Aziz had guided us on where we needed to go, and as expected it was not terribly convenient. Granted, Immigration and Customs were close to each other, but both were a 30 minute taxi drive from the Marina. Aziz would assist with Harbor Master formalities. We visited both offices and after about an hour had cleared in. And importantly, the secret envelop containing my KGB Instructions had been handed over. I would never know what was inside the envelope – just such a weird backdated system, but hey, this is Life on a boat, and this is Malaysia!. Expressing our frustration with having to do this each time we called a Malaysian port, Aziz suggested that it might be possible (hint hint) that we declare our next port of call as Pinetree Marina (our last destination along the west coast of Malaysia) where we planned to leave the boat and bus across the causeway to Singapore for a weeks R&R. Our planned stops were only likely to be short overnighters, and it made little sense to check in and check out of ports we were only likely to be staying less than 24hrs in.

We then spent a hot and humid few hours walking around the War Museum. Most of the infrastructure had been kept, but attempts to try to bring it to life with some human dummies degenerated it somewhat. Nonetheless, I am a keen observer of war history, however it is retold, and the conditions humans put others through, and thus I was nonetheless impressed.

We enjoyed walking through the beautiful George Town with its unique blend of colonial architecture, Chinese shophouses, and incredible street food, alongside its modern skyscrapers and cultural fusion. A Dim Sum restaurant had been recommended so we ate our body weight in dumplings on not one, but two occasions, it was that good!

We walked, we ate, we drank and we took on some small provisions from the supermarket that was only a short walk from the Marina.

I really enjoyed Penang and when we felt out time there was up, I determined we would return. It really felt like a small Singapore to me!

However, before leaving, we needed to check-out. So into an uber we squeezed for the journey back to Immigration and Customs. A new envelope was handed to me, again sealed and again with instructions not to open it, but to hand it over to the customs officer at our next declared port of arrival. This time, we cunningly determined that as far as the Malaysian authorities were concerned, this would be Pinetree Marina down in Johor Bahru. In reality that was some days away and we were going to stop for overnighters along the way. his check-in/check-out malarkey was just taking too much time and it was presumed that as we called into smaller anchorages the inconvenience would increase exponentially!

The 2 Bridges

Penang had spoilt us and we would shortly suffer a reality blow as it had been determined our next planned stop was at Pangkor Marina.

I had heard many stories about this Marina. Countless people took their boats to Pangkor as next to the marina is a hardstand upon which boats could be rested for repairs, maintenance, or simply to avoid off season weather. Compared to Phuket, Malaysian repair yards, and particularly Pangkor, were a far more affordable alternative. Making the site more interesting to yachties was that next to the hardstand was an apartment building where I am reliably informed you can rent a room for very little outlay.

I was therefore curious!

Penang is connected to the mainland by two bridges, and it was under these two bridges that we would traverse after leaving the Straits Quay Marina and turning south. I had never sailed Luna Blu under a bridge before. I hadn’t ever taken particular attention to determining what the air draft of Luna Blu actually was. Worryingly, Google wasn’t particularly helpful. It’s offering was particularly vague:

The Fountaine Pajot Salina 48’s mast height generally ranges around 18.4 to 20 meters (approximately 60 to 65 feet), with some sources specifying 18.4m (60’4″), others stating around 20m (65’6″), and one mentioning 63 feet for the Evolution model, making it a tall rig for a cruising catamaran but often compatible with major waterway clearances like the US ICW’s 65-foot limit.
Specific Figures:
18.40 m (60’4″): For the Salina 48 Evolution.
20.76 m: Listed for a 2007 model on TheBoatDB.
63 ft (19.2m): On YachtSite for the Salina 48 Evolution.
20m (65.6 ft): Listed as air height for an Evolution Maestro model.
Key Takeaway:
Expect a mast height in the low 20-meter range, but always confirm with the specific boat’s documentation, as variations exist between standard and Evolution models and different years.

On Charts, the northern most bridge has a 30m vertical clearance, and the southern bridge has a height of 28m. Exactly what this “Height” meant was not clear to me. Nothing was absolute. There were no hard specifics, neither in the space under the bridges, nor the actual height of my mast, and adjoining antennas! We did do some rudimentary measuring using a laser distance meter and had determined a mast height of approximately 21m. Aziz suggested we would be fine, but i was nonetheless anxious.

We approached the first bridge at a speed that might have seen snails passing us, if snails could swim! We cleared underneath it. I will admit to keeping my eyes closed when we initially passed underneath, but the ears were alert to the tell tale noise of aluminum mast head striking reinforced concrete. Thankfully there was no such noise. First bridge cleared, but the bigger concern lay ahead. A declared clearance of 30m for the first bridge was sufficient enough information to satisfy me, but still I was concerned. The second bridge had a declared HEIGHT of 28m What did this mean? Height under the bridge, height to the road surface on the bridge, I wasn’t convinced. Again, we approach slowly, tensions rose, breath held, eyes closed, ears alert….nothing, we cleared under the second bridge. I can’t begin to explain the relief!

And we were away. Penang fella away in the distance, and after a few hours we began to sight the island of Pangkor ahead of us.

We should have timed arriving into Pangkor better than we did, for when we arrived what seemed like the entire Malaysian fishing fleet was making to sea. We weaved in and out of oncoming traffic, trying to stay as far to the right (passing port to port) as i could. Not all skippers of this fishing fleet were either aware of the rules of the road when it comes to navigating at sea, or were terribly interested in complying with them. On more than one occasion i was encouraged back into the middle of the channel by boats coming at me on my starboard. I was relieved to have seen my way through this fleet and was now able to make a ninety degree turn to port and cross the channel into the Pangkor Marina.

Pangkor & The Animal Farm!

Malaysia, as i have eluded to earlier, suffers from an inability to maintain infrastructure, and is seemingly content with watching something that must have been the pride of a community erode to the point it becomes down trodden and an eye sore. Pangkor highlights this terrible infliction wonderfully. I’m not certain, i can’t be, but i am confident that somewhere between idea generation, feasibility study, risk assessment and the eventual apportioning of funds to proceed with a project, sticky fingers get involved that results in a fraction of the funds originally assigned finding their way to the actual project. Nothing exemplifies this more than Pangkor’s Marina Island Hall and it’s adjoining park of cement formed creatures, Polar Bears, Giraffe, Bovine, flying horse, dinosaurs, you name it, it’s there in an assorted kaleidoscope of colors and patterns resembling nothing like what the lifeless depictions might otherwise normally appear!

Someone, I’d like to know who so i could understand the “why”, has conceptualized this oddity of a park, and after having overseen its completion had then decided to let it go to waste while he or she moved onto other more pressing matters. Probably a bus ticket out of the place, never to return!

Having had arrived at the marina and tied up, we soon determined there wasn’t much else about the place to keep us interested. We walked of the island on one occasion, in search of a venue for lunch. Having found something, we ate amd then scurried back to the boat and considered our next move. A couple of little repairs needed to be undertaken, which were delayed as we’d inconveniently arrived over a weekend and most services were closed. Closed permanently or for just the weekend, I couldn’t be absolutely sure! It really wasn’t a particularly lively place to visit. I can appreciate going there to repair your boat, but as tourist seeking out some culture or something otherwise interesting, you might be better served opening up a 3 week old tub of yoghurt that had been baking in the sun!

We left as soon as we could, and were happy to be back on the water!

I admit there is likely much more to the area than we saw. Many people speak highly of the place. I just didn’t see what the excitement was all about!

So ashamed of this park, I can’t even find anything on google to offer up as pictorial example of what was once considered a good concept. It’s not only been left for ruin physically, but the history books have been rewritten to suggest it never happened in the first place!

Such a shame!

Port Kelang, Mangroves

We continued our heading south, and very soon we would be joining the busy Malacca Straits. Close toward Port Kelang began the traffic separation scheme, that is essentially two lanes written into the surface of the water (not literally) that dictate the side of the channel vessel’s must remain, depending on whether they are transiting north, or south. We began to see a great many number of commercial traffic, of all shapes and sizes, and all moving much fast than us!

I had spent the best part of 30 years in the commercial shipping industry and have a fascination with ship spotting. Ships to me are like birds are to a “twitcher“. And as we approach the Industrial port of Kelang, they grew in number, and proximity! I was in heaven!

We called into an anchorage amongst the mangroves just outside of the busy shipping port of Kelang. We were afforded protection from weather in all but a narrow southerly facing window and as such we would sleep comfortably for the night. The drum of heavy machinery unloading ships carried on all night. It wasn’t loud, just a constant hum. We were now deep amongst industry and for the remainder of the passage down to Singapore would be up close and personal with the shipping channel.

We didn’t actually join the traffic separation lane, rather kept a safe distance from it, although in doing so brought the fishing fleet and their nets into play!

McDonalds ahoy, Port Dickson

As we were entering a tighter shipping channel, I was using the services of my Navionics navigation app much more than I usually would. Those spending time at the helm had to contend with ships leaving the channel to enter one of the many ports scattered along this part of the coast, as well as the growing number of fishing boats and the nets they had deployed. We had to have our wits about us navigationally!

Making navigation somewhat easier, was the distinct lack of wind we’d had so far. We had been motoring for the vast majority of the time so far and this would continue until we got to Pinetree Marina in Johor Bahru.

What Navionics was telling me about the next schedule stop for us, was that there was a Starbucks and a McDonalds restaurant right on the beach from where we were intending to anchor in Port Dickson. I hadn’t told the crew of this little factoid, instead thought I’d spring a little surprise when we arrived. Zippy does all the cooking onboard, and she is world class at it. An excellent cook. But this evening I hinted that we might eat ashore, stretch our legs and partake in some western comfort.

We arrived at Port Dickson and dropped anchor. This was not a particular interesting anchorage, and indeed sat directly below the flight path of incoming planes into Kuala Lumpur. There were a couple of gas refineries ashore also that flared off regularly, lighting up an otherwise dark nights sky! As was becoming clear to us so far, there really wasn’t much interesting about this coastal run so far. And indeed after having left Penang, it had been pretty average to say the least. Waters were polluted, littered with rubbish and other such floating debris. Fishing nets deployed everywhere and anywhere. Commercial shipping traffic was king here. This part of Malaysia, it was quickly dawning upon us, was not a place to enjoy some cruising on a sailing Catamaran.

We climbed into the dinghy and made our way ashore. McDonalds was literally a few short meters from where we had beached the dinghy. So we sauntered into the restaurant, ordered, paid and sat down to enjoy some of Ronald’s finest work! It wasn’t the best meal we’d had so far. But for reasons of novelty, and a change up from the routine onboard, this was a neat little side tour!!

Malacca

Port Dickson was behind us and shrinking into the distance as we made speed and heading for Malacca, another day hop. For most of the trip so far we were being pushing along by diesel motor. Occasionally a sail would be raised if whatever breeze there was might in some small way assist. But often it didn’t, and so the drum of internal combustion engine joined us again for yet another day. We anchored later that evening at a small anchorage, with no protection outside the river that runs through the township of Malacca.

Malacca is the capital city of the Malaysian state that carry’s the same name. Famous for its rich multicultural heritage from Portuguese, Dutch, British, and Malay influences, visible in colonial buildings, unique cuisine, and vibrant street life. Malacca was once a well known international trade center in the East. Many traders anchored in Malacca, especially from Arabia, China and India, traded goods at the port of Malacca and from there were born many of the descendants and tribes that exist in Malacca to this day. In more recent times, Malacca has grown to become one of the major tourist attractions of Malaysia. A major draw for its historic charm, food scene, and night markets, with attractions clustered in its preserved city center.

We took our dinghy into and then up the river toward the township of Malacca, climbed up a small wall and found ourselves in the middle of of veritable tourist hot spot. We walked around for a couple of hours, cleansed a thirst, and satisfied a hunger. It is a delightful place to visit. Not so much by boat mind, but a wonderful place nonetheless.

We returned to Luna Blu and settled in for a quiet night aboard. Watching the sun go down and the lights of Malacca fend of the intruding darkness. We didn’t appreciate the calmness of the night, but should have, for what the next two nights had in store would be in stark contrast to this night of delightful serenity!

The Roadstead and a fishing net

The term Roadstead is defined as a sheltered body of water where ships can lie reasonably safely at anchor without dragging or snatching. It was a new term for me, and one that i had taken from my Navionics charts. Making our way southward from Malacca toward the Singapore Causeway, there remained little by way of anything I’d consider a safe, well protected anchorage. The Straits would continued to narrow, commercial traffic would be squeezed further into a tighter space, and I wasn’t interested in transiting overnight. The only viable options suggested to me was a Roadstead anchorage. This particular anchorage was in open water, shallowing to 3-4m closer to coast, but with no land protecting weather from the north, south, or west. It was really the only option available for an overnight stop. With all the fishing activity going on outside the designated traffic separation lanes, and me not having yet mustered the courage of joining the shipping lanes further away from the coast, we were committed to stopping before darkness fell, and dropping anchor.

Many people had warned us of the risk of getting a fishing net caught around the boat. Stories circled about how local fisherman purposely allowed their drift nets to encircle yachts in an attempt to extract some money from the occupants in return for losing their net, and thus their livelihood. And these are no small nets. Strewn across hundreds of meters and regularly not marked. Fishermen stretch their nets out and allow them to drift with the tide for some time before returning much further downstream to retrieve their nets and whatever may have become entangled in them! They are everywhere, and this section of water had become distinctly unpleasant for a number of reasons. Dodging drift nets being chief amongst them!

No matter, aware of the risk and trying to mitigate things by anchorage as far away from visible fishing activity as possible, we dropped anchor in the “Roadstead” and settled into the evening.

At about 2am in the morning, I was awoken by nothing in particular, but did notice a flashing blue strobe light atop a pole floating in the water, only meters from my starboard aft quarter. I assumed a fisherman might have dropped a fishing pot and the boat had swung during a tide shift and was somewhat close, but not dangerously enough to the pots marker. I went back to sleep. About an hour later i awoke again, this time to the quiet murmur of two fisherman in a small fishing boat that were now only meters from my after quarter. I didn’t realise it at the time, but they had quietly moved toward my boat for the purpose of retrieving a net that was attached to this blue flashing marker. I immediately leaped out of my bed, stormed out into the cockpit and bellowed an ungodly noise, powered in equal measures of fear, self preservation and deterrent. I immediately realised the situation, but not yet the extent. A net had become entangled around my boat, and these fishermen were deftly trying to retrieve their net. Their deftness turned to an altogether more urgent attempt, as this 190cm, 100kg barely dressed human was barking at them from the back of his boat.

We had been netted, and as it was to transpire, stunningly so. The fishermen, cut their loses, literally. With a sharp knife they hacked away at tangled net. Landed whatever length of net they could, excited their agricultural motor into life and sped off into the darkness.

We then took stock of the situation. We had been properly caught. Netting was tangled around the anchor chain, the rudders and saildrive/propellers. Whatever protrusions from the underwater hull of the boat had been entangled. So, in the darkness, we set about trying to free ourselves as best we could. With sharp knives we cut away at the netting caught around the anchor chain. Some time passed, and as hacking continued, we could see the fishermen sheepishly returning. They had managed to find the opposite end of the net and were working to retrieve as much more net as they could. I encouraged them to try and circle the boat, hoping to unwrap us. They tried, but their attempts were less than delicate and in frustration they tied a loose section of net to their bow and reversed at full power. This immediately spun our boat around 180 degress, and in all likelihood just tightened up the knots of tangled net underneath us. The fisherman again hacked away, freed a section of net, and thankfully for the last time, motored off into the darkness. They never asked for money. I wonder if they were as startled as i was and just wanted to get away. Probably.

After 90 minutes of knife work we managed to untangle the anchor chain. Nothing could be done about the saildrives/propellers as they could only be done underwater, and right now it was too dark to see anything underwater.

With adrenaline coursing through my veins there was no chance i was going back to sleep. Coffee was taken. We sat down and talked about what had happened, what else needed to be done, and why we would not likely traverse these waters again!

As sun rose, we surveyed the perimeter of the boat. There was net drifting behind us, suggesting more was tangled around the rudders/saildrive/propellers. Someone had to go get into the water and untangle. Normally not a big issue, but this morning large jellyfish had taken a liking to the vicinity the boat was in. There were dozens of them. As big as dinner plates and tentacles as long as your arm, they aren’t lethal, but their sting is sharp, and can leave welts if not adequately treated.

I donned an ill fitting wetsuit for protection and gently climbed into the water. It wasn’t terribly long before both net had been cleared and jellyfish had come to see what all the movement was about. Zippy was using a long handled paddle to fend the jellyfish away from me. Partly effective, i wasn’t extensively stung, but i think the score was paddle to the face 3 : Jellyfish stings 2.

We were free of net, it was a dawn of a new day, and it was time to dust ourselves off and get the hell out of dodge!

The Night of Nights

Sumatra Squalls are intense, organized lines of thunderstorms that form over Sumatra and move eastward across the Malacca Straits, bringing with them heavy rain and strong, gusty winds to Singapore and Malaysia, typically overnight or early morning between April and November. These powerful convective systems are characterized by sudden wind gusts, sometimes reaching over 100 km/h, capable of causing damage, and can be tracked via radar, though predicting their exact intensity remains challenging.

I had never heard of such a phenomena, and while i was paying attention to weather patterns amd using a weather predicting tool, i wasn’t looking specifically for these squalls.

Having cleared the boat of all the net we’d collected earlier the night before, we weighed anchor in the early morning and continued out procession south. Singapore was getting close, but wasn’t reachable within the day, so we had to stop at yet another Roadstead anchorage for a penultimate night before we could make it to the entrance of the Singapore Causeway.

After an uneventful day of ducking and weaving amongst fishing fleet, nets and commercial ships, we pulled into an anchorage. Again, as was the night before, we were afforded no protection from the north, east or south. We were exposed. Anchored well off the shore though, in 3-4 meters of water, we lay out 20 meters of chain before attaching the bridle and releasing a further 15 meters.

We went about our normal evening routines, ate a sumptuous meal, read, listened to a pod cast, talked amongst ourselves and readied for bed. I was, as is always the case, paying close attention to weather. Lightening grew sharper as night set in, but it was well in the distance. There was an approaching front, very slowly, but the intensity wasn’t alarmingly strong. So we settled into our beds and tried to get a nights rest in an anchorage that wasn’t already very comfortable.

I regularly checked weather overnight, and had been tracking this approaching weather front. I was moving slowly and looked as though i might skirt around our position. I would continue to monitor.

About an hour later, at 2am in the morning, the winds picked up and the constant flashes of lightening began to close in on us. Within moments the sea began to agitate, and the wind stiffened. Not unusual, but i always take not of our position and if the anchor is dragging. Until now the 40kg Bugel anchor and stainless steel anchor chain has served us well. Not once, in the 5 years of sailing in the region, had it dragged when tested by storms. Tonight, this would change.

Winds steadily increased, currently holding at 30knots and the sea was increasingly restless. The position of the boat had indeed moved, but I deduced that was just the 35m of chain I had let out lining up along the seabed as the boat was pushed by the steadily increasing westerly blow.

40knots and increasing now, gusting to 50 knots. Waves bigger, and messier, and in shallow water. The boat had begun to drag, and the direction of drag was toward the shore. The boat was rocking violently as it hobby horsed against the rolling waves now coming toward our bows as both wind and water pushed against us. We were now dragging at about a speed of 1 knot. The bucking and rearing of the nose of the boat was whipping the anchor chain and I presume unsetting the anchor fluke from the sea bed. We had by now all gathered in the cockpit as rain and wind battered the boat. If we continued to drag at this pace we would be hitting the shore within an hour. I went to the helm and started the engines. Put the props into forward gear and at idle and try to offset the effect of the wind and waves against the anchor and chain. This indeed stopped us dragging. But it didn’t stop the slamming and wind, and waves, and rain. It persisted for at leas three hours. Engines in idle forward. Slamming and water, and wind. It was horrible.

After what felt like all night, the wind gusts began steadily abating, 40 knots, 35 knots, 30 knots, 25 knots, 18 knots, back to 25 knots, back to 17 knots. The sea state began to settle. It was behind us now, but what a ride that was for a good three hours. I could turn engines off now, it was still dark, but the sun would be rising shortly.

By the time the sun did rise, we were long awake, indeed we had been for most of the night. We surveyed the boat for any damage, or water ingress. A little sea water into the engine rooms from the stern of the boat dipping below the water line as she violently bucked and carried on. That was pumped out and caused no problems. Indeed the biggest issue the storm had created was the loss of the Malaysian courtesy flag we were flying, and some damage to the Australian house flag. Not bad for what we had just experienced I thought!

We were all a bit shaken after the storm. The damaged house flag was lowered. It would later be framed and sent back in Australia, where it now sits on a wall at Dads home, as a reminder of the night of nights!

The west coast of Malaysia was not being particularly kind to us, and a Sumatra Squall is not to be trifled with!

Hooray, and a mechanical concern!

The Johor Strait is a the narrow body of water, varying between 0.75 miles to 3 miles wide, that separates the small island of Singapore from Malaysia. Singapore is thus connected to Malaysia by two bridges, the 2nd Link Bridge, and the Johor Causeway Bridge.

We had hoped to reach the entrance to Johor Strait and be able to motor up the strait and arrive at Pinetree Marina before darkness. Sadly, beating into adverse currents that build with strength the closer your get to the Singapore Straits, had determined we would need to spend one final night at an anchorage before making the final 14 mile push the next day.

When anchoring, i tend to release about 20m of chain initially, then reverse the boat gently until i can feel the anchor set itself. When satisfied it has set, i then release the appropriate amount of chain depending on the depth of water and expected tides and then attach the bridle to the chain., and settle in for a peaceful nights rest!

We lowered the anchor, and i put engines in reverse gear. After a short few seconds, the starboard engine began to vibrate violently. I immediately disengaged the engine and the vibration stopped. Reengaged reverse and again, after a few short seconds, violent vibration! My heart sank. I had just spent a small fortune in re-powering the boat, and now, with engines still brand new, i had a mechanical problem with one of them! Moreover, in my efforts to cut corners and save costs, i had procured the engines from a wholesaler in the UK, imported them into Thailand and had them delivered to the Phuket boatyard where I then had a Volvo Penta technician install them. I wasn’t confident i had a valid manufacturers warranty. I had robbed peter and was now about, i feared, to pay Paul!

After setting eventually the anchor, i sat scratching my head. Wat was the problem. Gearbox was the obvious answer. In idle, no vibration, reverse, a lot of carry-on, but then when in forward, smooth! How could a gearbox issue be discriminatory between neutral, forward and reverse gears, i wondered? This was perplexing to say the least and I spent many hours running problem scenarios through my head. Each scenario involved significant repair cost and certainly time spent out of the water!

The next morning, we lifted the anchor, engines in forward, no vibration, and began the motor up the Johor Strait. Along the way, we had to pass under the 2nd link bridge, and while the clearance was greater than the bridges we passed under at Penang, it still didn’t stop the sense of trepidation and dread as we slowly approached! It wasn’t the bridge clearance i needed to be concerned about though, for some Malaysian fisherman, in their infinite wisdom had determined it clever to lay a drift net directly under the bridge and between the two main pilons through which marine traffic traversed. The fucking idiots, what the fuck? i thought and spoke at the same time! How a country can allow this sort of nonsense, as ferry and commercial traffic came and went, was a mystery to me, but it was the case! As we approached, slowly, and only three hundred meters away, the fishermen determined it time to haul their net back in. We had to slow down to allow time for this to take place and once they finished their work we then proceeded to pass, otherwise uneventfully, under the bridge.

We entered the Marina, where staff were there to get us and assist with handling lines. Maneuvering into the berth had me using reverse gear on a few occasions and each time the starboard engine would vibrate angrily. I had to address this before we could go further! But we had arrived, and tied up at the dock. The West Coast ordeal was behind us, and we were relieved and ready for a visit to the nearby bar where drinks were taken and memories shared and discussed.

Zippy and I would bus across to Singapore to spend a week. and Dad was set to fly out of Singapore the following day. The boat would remain at Pinetree Marina until we returned. Meantime, i had started considering what measures needed to be taken to address this mechanical problem. But for now, we were just happy to put the experiences behind us.

A Rat and the Rudder!

A week in Singapore catching up with friends, old colleagues and enjoying some local delicacies was just the tonic after what had been an eventful, yet somewhat disappointing experience down the West Coast of Malaysia.

While there, I had reached out to a number of Volvo/Diesel/Saildrive Mechanics who might be able to problem solve my little vibration in reverse dilemma. The feedback ranged from “we will come with a set of spares” to “you will need to take the vessel to a dry-dock and take her out of the water” and further “we can come and do a visual inspection but it will cost you AUD 1,500”. A set of spares for a problem they hadn’t investigated didn’t seem logical. A dry-dock was probably going to be the likely outcome, but i would sooner go back up the west coast to Pangkor, or even Rebak, Langkawi. And forking out $1,500 just for someone to come and have a visual inspection was not going to fly. It was puzzling me what the problem might be.

In the end, we determined that given the concern I had with this little mechanical issue, the dearth of dockyards up along the east coast of Malaysia suitable for repairs l, and that the whole experience down the west coast hadn’t exactly endeared us to Malaysian waters, we would leave Pinetree Marina and head back up the west coast, this time joining the shipping channel for a non-stop passage over a couple of nights back to a dockyard where we could be lifted out f the water and get this issue solved!

I thanked the gaggle of mechanics that tried to assist/fleece me of money, and returned to the boat with plans to ready ourselves for the passage back up north. We arranged for some diesel fuel to be bunkered, and shopped for some critical provisions at a nearby supermarket.

But more pressing, was trying to ascertain why the espresso capsules we had left in a storage rack up against a bulkhead had been cut open. When we returned to the boat I immediately noticed coffee powder strewn across the kitchen counter-top. What the hell happened here, i wondered? Perhaps my Dad had accidentally broken a couple of capsules trying to stack them away just before leaving for Singapore a week earlier. Impossible i thought, he might be a tad clumsy, but this sort of mess was beyond that! We cleaned up the coffee powder, still unsure as to what had happened, and prepared for our final night in the Marina. We were scheduled the depart the next morning.

Laying on the bed, as the sun set, we heard the pitter patter of tiny feet, and then some scratching noises from behind the kitchen cabinetry. We had a guest onboard. A fucking Rat!!

Just when I thought things couldn’t get amy worse, a rat had decided to climb onboard.

It must have boarded by walking across mooring lines that had us tied to the dock. Years in commercial shipping had taught me about the use of rat guards fixed to mooring lines while vessel’s were alongside. I had never considered it with a sailing catamaran!

The night was restless, spent laying in bed listening to the scratching and scurrying of our guest vermin only a meter or two away from us, but unsighted as it tucked itself into whatever crevasses it could find in the boat, and there were many!! We had not traps onboard, but did try to tempt it outside with small food offerings put on the dock. It was to no avail. he was with us until such time as we could find a suitable trap.

Checking out of Pinetree Marina and advising our next destination would be Langkawi, we left, and motored out of the Johor Straits and exited into a flotilla of commercial shipping waiting at anchor for their next orders. Having zig-zagged our way through this myriad of floating steel we were soon clear of most of the heavy traffic and thus could shut down one engine and, for purposes of fuel economy, run on just one other. Shutting down the starboard engine, engaging autopilot to a heading we wanted had an effect that i was not expecting. Oddly, we immediately began what was a hard turn to the left and continued in a full circle. All the while the autopilot was trying to adjust ridders to put us back on a desired course. Could things get any worse?

With the starboard engine room cover open for the purpose of engine room ventilation, i am able to see the rudder stock and it’s direction indicator. What I noticed was that while the autopilot was trying to turn rudders hard to starboard in order to straiten the boat up, the right rudder was maintaining a forward direction. The stock had come loose from it’s locking pins!

It suddenly all made sense. The engine vibration in reverse. It wasn’t a mechanical problem at all. I deduced that way back when we were fighting with the fishing net boat, they must have tugged the net that was wrapped around the boat hard enough that they had pulled the rudder from its locking pins. The starboard rudder had been swinging in the breeze, so to speak, ever since. And when i engaged reverse, the propeller would pull water across the rudder, forcing it to swing 180 degrees until the trailing edge of the rudder would swing around and into contact with spinning propeller blades!

Of course! It all made so much sense now. With the use of an emergency tiller onboard, i was able to properly re-align the loose rudder and then tighten up the two locking pins using a simple allen key! Mechanical problem solved. Cost me nothing but a week or two of head scratching. I felt utterly useless! Why had i not checked this – it never dawned upon me that a swinging rudder would be the problem. Lesson learnt, and now one less problem!

Next problem, the dirty Rat!

For the otherwise uneventful days that followed, until we made it to Straits Quay Marina in Penang, the rat had become a regular feature in our daily routines. Like clockwork, at about 7pm in the evening, the beast would spring to life. Scratching, darting left, bouncing right, all well behind cabinets and out of sight. It was an awful experience knowing that a rat lived alongside us. At Penang, we went ashore and filled a shopping trolly with all manner of rat traps. This was war!

We remained at Penang until such time as the knowing snap of a metal rat trap doing it’s work interrupted the early hours of an evening. He had been caught and his days of roaming unhindered about the boat were over. The horrible looking thing was promptly and unceremoniously disposed of, after which we looked into electrical panels to see what sort of damage had been caused. Speaker wires had been chewed through, this would be an easy fix. But more problematically, the cable that connected the depth sounder to the display screens had also been attacked. This was no ordinary cable and would cost me a stunning amount of money when i eventually found a chandlery that could sell me a replacement. In my next life i think I’ll get into the marine navigation cable business – there’s much money to be made in the sector!!!

Home

Malaysia had been an experience. There were more negatives than positives, but I was satisfied for the experience. I wont be rushing back to the west coast. My experience with the fisherman and the unclean water has discouraged me from exploring the east coast areas as well. Maybe that will change in time, and as the bad memories fade.

We found ourselves back in Thai waters and could again dive into clear water and be free, though not entirely, of fishing fleets and their nets. It was delightful.

What we had done, and this was the purpose of the trip, was to break out of the comfort buddle that had become Phuket and it’s surroundings. We have experienced things we would have otherwise missed. I can now say with some authority what I think of the particular stretch of water, rather than relying on second hand reports. And, importantly, we had learned more about Luna Blu’s capabilities.

We were bruised and battered, but not defeated. The trip had opened our eyes to the freedom that traveling on a boat offers. We longed for more, though not necessarily in Malaysia.

Thoughts had entered my thinking prior to this trip that perhaps we move to Indonesia and spend a year or two sailing around its great many islands. Malaysia and our experiences there had dented this thinking. We decided then, that we were ready to go further, much further. Indonesia can wait, for now. We had the easterly trade winds to join and take us west. West, across the Indian ocean, into the Red Sea, onwards to the Mediterranean Sea, then further west. We would set off to circumnavigate the globe.

Indonesia, and perhaps the east coast of Malaysia, can wait until we come at it from the east, in a year or two, or three!