Follow our Track @ Day 1
Though I didnt realise it at the time, Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli serenading us as we left Nai Yang anchorage was entirely fitting. Bocelli’s work (originally titled “Con Te Partirò“) became internationally recognisable after he teamed up with Sarah Brightman in 1995 singing the tune duet style and renaming the piece “Time to Say Goodbye”. Its emotive tones and heart piercing lyrics have ensured the piece is a mainstay on the Olympic closing ceremonies circuit, and other such events. Point being, Bocelli is Italian, and here’s a stretch, Luna Blu’s name is Italian! And there we have it, a connection!
The weather models that we’d been reviewing daily leading up to a departure on the 15th January were all warning of conditions more conducive to motoring than sailing, and so it came as little surprise to us that for the first 24hrs at sea, the engine (just one at a time, alternating from one to the other every 4hrs) was run for 22hrs. The only reason we didnt run them for the full 24hrs was that at first light on day two a breeze had picked up, though by not much, and we felt like some peace and quiet.
We had achieved an average speed of just shy of 6 knots with engine and the head sail out. But on first light day two, engine off, code-0 (code-zero) deployed to harness what it could from the 6-7 knots coming over the beam, we were meandering at a pedestrian pace of 4 knots over ground. Conditions were otherwise benign. Seas flat save for a rolling swell that was barely recognisable. So we thought we might enjoy some sailing, albeit slow. It was delightful!
Some hours away from Phuket, with land well and truly out of sight, we were joined by a couple of playful dolphins. Delightful creatures. We could see then springing out of the water from a good distance away, coming up toward us with obvious excitement. They joined us for a good ten minutes, deploying all resistance to slow themselves down just enough to keep inches away from our bow. Understandably tired by the lack of speed, the energetic duo decided enough was enough, turned off and sped away, presumably back to their awaiting pod!
It is said, and google concurs, Dolphin sightings symbolize joy, harmony, protection, and good luck and their presence reminding us to embrace life’s flow! I agree 100%!
Trust the technology
Our first night of this passage was frightening. We were fortunate that the weather conditions were relatively calm. It just takes some time to allow technology, in the form of radar, chartplotter, wind instruments and AIS to take over the sense of sight. It was a struggle letting go, but when you eventually do, the experience becomes far less daunting. I doubt i’ll ever get truly comfortable with it. Perhaps a full moon would help light things up slightly but we are a week away from the next full moon.
The relief when the sun begins to break through the darkness the next morning, and your eyes again become useful is when I get a strong sense of relief!
FADs!?
Yet despite all this available technology onboard, the one thing the radar, or AIS, cannot pickup at night are FADs!
A FAD (Fish Aggregating Device) are a man-made object, anchored or drifting, that attracts fish by providing shade and structure, making them easier to catch with less effort, especially pelagic species like tuna, marlin, and mahi-mahi; they range from simple bundles of natural materials to high-tech, beacon-equipped structures. In these parts, a FAD is a giant foam block wrapped in thick gauge rope netting. They drift with the currents and fisherman presumably come by and have their way with the schools of marine life that congregate underneath them.
For a sailing boat, a FAD is something to be avoided, for otherwise rudders, propellers and anything else protruding below a yacht is going to be entangled amongst the netting.
Foam blocks dont get picked up by radar and so when the sun goes down you are in the lap of the gods as to whether you hit one or pass by blissfuly unaware.
I figured, having travelled approx 130nm’s in the 1st day that we were far away from them, but on first light on day two the very first thing we spotted ahead of us was a FAD!
At night you simply cant see them. For a commercial freighter, a FAD is mincemeat, to a sailing yacht they are a damned nuisance and potentially very dangerous!
I hope we are lucky!
Editors note: There is debate as to what the blocks of foam actually are. One sailor, some distance ahead of us, came close enough to one to observe it fixed in position, noting that in the strong current zone, water was rushing past the fixed object. In 3,000m of water it’s hard to believe that these things are anchored to the seabed, but that was one sailors observation. He said he could clearly see a single line underneath the bloc descending into the abyss! A mooring buoy perhaps? The jury is out.
Engines off!
The 3rd day bought some highlights. The early morning saw us passing south of Great Nicobar Island, and the completion of the first 280 nautical miles. This would be the last land we would see until Sri Lanka, some 800 nautical miles further west.
This particular morning also brought with it some breeze and it was for the first proper stretch of time that we could turn off an engine and enjoy the sounds of sailing. A very modest 7-10 knots mind, but aided with a 1-2 knot following current, we enjoyed a leisurely meander across the ocean. Clear skies, calm seas, save for a rolling swell which was sizeable but without being uncomfortable. It was very pleasant. This sort of weather also allowed us to catch up on some sleep, and the opportunity to do so was gleefully grabbed with both arms and legs!!
West of Nicobar Islands and proper sailing.
We got word that one of the earlier boats to leave Phuket had arrived in the Maldives in an impressive 10 days, and using engines for only 18hrs, the majority of which was while in the shadow of Sri Lanka, blocking the wind. In comparison, us having departed Phuket a week later, have motored for over 75% of the time. How fickle the weather can be!
Having passed south of Great Nicobar Island and heading west, a new world opened up. Open Seas. The FADs that had been the scurge of the eastern side of the archipelago were no longer. Open Ocean as far as the eye, and radar could see. Asside from commercial shipping traffic that were holding neat formation, there was evidently nothing else but open ocean. The nights previously had felt perilous on account the dreaded FADs now was an entirely more relaxed environment.
The afternoon of the 3rd day brought with it a steady NNW breeze, never gusting above 15 knots, and holding steady at 10’ish knots! It was our first night of sailing, not motoring, not motor sailing, just proper sailing. And it was fantastic. The seas were kind to us and kept things relatively smooth, and the steady 10 knots of air had us migrating west at a steady lick!.
We had “buddy boated” with SY Aquatarius, Onboard were an Australian couple, whom we have not yet met, but had mutual friends. Through communications we discovered they were also headed to Galle and had similar plans beyond. Maybe an opportunity to team up for future legs as we look beyond Galle. Never in visible sight, but often only 15-20nm away, it was calming to know there was another boat close by. And another boat soon appeared. SY Salto. We could see the details on NFL, a Norwegian family of 5. They were aboard an Altremere catamaran. High performance, built for speed. It wasnt long before, in the darkness of night, they were alongside of us, perhaps no more then 1.5nm abeam. And then, as though in a blink of an eye, they were 2nm ahead of us. As the sun rose on another gorgeous day, we could see Salto well in the distance. Luna Blu, the sturdy “built for comfort” type of machine she is, was no match. We watched Salto quickly dissapear from sight, now only visible on AIS. Maybe we will meet them in Galle?
A sleepless night and bravo to GRP construction
We live in a world alarmingly divided, where many issues now fracture into two irreconcilable camps. Increasingly, neither side shows any willingness to hear the other: what begins as debate quickly escalates into heated argument, then spills over into physical confrontation — and, with disturbing frequency, into deadly violence in defense of whatever cause the most unhinged among us deem worth killing (or dying) for. The number of such extremists appears to be growing. Whether the flashpoint is politics, artificial intelligence, historical interpretation, or religion, genuine listening has become rare; shouting past one another is now the norm.
That introduction is perhaps a little too alarmist for, but I’ve done this to try to exemplify the divide in yachting circles between the monohul and the multihull. This battleground is not as potentially fatle as some of the others, but no less passionate!
For centuries, the monohull was the only form of ocean transport, tried and trusted. Multihulls, with their increase in livable space and comfort, are a relatively new concept to the bluewater cruising fraternity. I suppose I have planted my stake in the ground by the fact I own a multihull. But in fact I had started out looking for a monohull and the opportunity of this boat popped out of the blue, so to speak. I have never been a passionate member of the mlmultihull camp, and I do appreciate the benefits that the monohull offer, especially for blue water cruising. Maybe not so much when on the anchor where they bob about like a cork on the water but in the middle of a vast ocean, this is their playground!
Anyway, cut to night #4 on this passage, and the advantages of the monohull are obvious. The day had been delightful sailing, for the most part. Wind across the beam, although not from astern as should normally be the direction for this time of year. Every so often, and without warning, the seas would suddenly spring to life and you would find yourself in a patch of terribly confused water. Swell coming from every direction, pitching and rolling the thing floating atop it. As night approached, the winds turned a little to the nose and gained in strength. We took in a further reef in the mainsail, just to be sure, and settled in. Before long, and of course in blinding darkness, the sea really kicked up. Sitting at the helm, you tend to be oblivious to the noise from further down inside the hulls or saloon. But spend some time in either and all the water slapping up hitting the bottom of the boat, between the two hulls, and you would be excused for thinking a complete structural failure was imminent. The sound is just frightening. Best to stay up at the helm, which is what we both did, and in doing so lose the ability for a decent rest between shifts.
For confused seas, with wind tending toward the nose it’s monohulls 1, multihulls 0. At least for the noise it creates without fracturing into a million pieces. I marvel at the structural strength of GRP!!
Sleep Deprivation & reefing.
A rhythm onboard was developing. Sporadic naps during the day made up for the lack of proper sleep at night.
As dusk would approach, we would, despite what the forecast may or may not suggest, religiously take in a 2nd reef on the main sail. An exercise that should be much easier than it is. I suppose there are better systems at reefing a mainsail, but Luna Blu is not equipped if there is. Here’s what reefing entails for us.
- Tighten up the headsail, ensuring it is out of harms way when we move to step 2
- Point the boat closer to the wind, Not completely so, just enough. It becomes an art…
- Move the mainsail traveler hard to stbd or port, depending on wind direction.
- Release some of the mainsheet which should have the mainsail lined up closer with the wind and thus much of the wind now out of the sail
- Lower the mainsail by releasing the main halyard and lowering just enough such that the luff reef point is lowered to the coupling on the mast.
- Go forward to the mast, and attach the reef point to the coupling at the base of the mast. Not as easy as it sounds when you are in even the slightest bit of weather!
- Return to the helm, trying not to fall into the water, and pull in the corresponding reef outhaul line. Winch tight, lock off.
- Wrap main halyard around a winch and raise the mainsail such such that it is now taught.
- Return to original heading, release a little the headsail, and wonder to oneself that there has to be an easier way!
It is a palaver of an exercise, and given how difficult it can be, and with an abundance of caution, we always reef before dusk. Just in case the weather turns foul amd we find ourselves reefing too late. And, furthermore, weather allowing, which is usually does not, this whole process is reversed at sunrise, as we then “shake out a reef”!
The last couple of nights of this passage have not been without discomfort. Something about the sun keeping harm at bay. As the sun dissappear it seems the winds, and especially the seas begin to create mischief. Sleep, certainly good sleep is rare at night. Either because its just too uncomfortable and noisy to actually get some sleep, or because we are on high alert for anything that might go wrong. So sleep tends to happen during the day, when conditions have tended to abate.
700nm distance covered ticked over early on day 6 suggesting we’re so far yielding about 140nm/day. Its hardly racing, and certainly nothing like Team Altremere might be achieving, but steadily the miles are being eaten away. About 400nm to go now.
Fuel Consumption
Marine diesel engines are a very basic piece of kit. Typically a tractor engine that has to be marinised. Conventional air cooling isn’t possible on a yacht and so a raw (sea water) water cooling system is bolted on, the name “Marine” is affixed to the engine name plate. You pay the corresponding eye watering price tag and you get yourself a tractor engine thats cooled by water! What they typically dont have is temperature monitors. A car engine comes with oil temperature, water temperature, and a live fuel consumption indicator. For heavens sake most of the modern cars can tell you the air pressure in each tyre. None of this comes with a Marine Diesel Engine, certainly not as a standard component, and definitely not the tyre air pressure indicators.
Because of this i dont know if the engine is running hot or not. I can peer over the side of the boat to determine is sea water is being ejected through the exhaust outlet. And if it is, I have to believe everything is fine with the engine. What I also dont know is an accurate read of fuel consumption. Volvo Penta offer a generic chart as a guide. But for my boat, the propellers I’ve fitted and the rpm I use it at, I am completely blind as to how much fuel the things use. It’s a scam that these sort of instrumentation aren’t standard on every Marine Diesel engine, a dead set scam!
I have a fuel gauge on my fuel tank, but it is about as much use as I am at knotting makramee. A amateur case of manufacturers having installed a linear fuel gauge into a non linear fuel tank. Anyway, with great uncertainty about how much these engines consume, I have been taking particular note of engine hours run, ensuring for the exercise that i’m running engines at a consistent 1,600rpm. Then every few days we pour known quantities of diesel into the tank, until full, from which we can calculate engine hours run vs fuel poured into tank to get an approximate consumption rate. This isn’t a perfect science, as the fuel gauge swings to 100% full surprisingly quickly, and even having done that I am still able to, with acute listening, pour more fuel into the tank, always trying to avoid overflow. It really does annoy me that flow meters aren’t fitted as standard kit to these engines. Like I say, a scam!!!
At any rate, I’ve deduced from much faffing about with jerry cans, diesel spills and guestimate, that im burning approx 2ltrs/hr at about 1,600rpm….per engine. The chart below would suggest something far more economical than that. A scam!
36hrs out from Galle
After what has unquestionably been the best nights sailing so far, we woke to clouded skies, moderate seas and a consistent 14 knots over the beam that had been keep us rattling along overnight at about a 7 knot average. This was good, and bad. Good in so far as this is what we came here to do. We were able to sleep in relative comfort when off watch. It was as close to a perfect night’s sailing as one might expect. The downside was that because we had gained such distance, we were now in a window that had us arriving into Galle, all things being equal, at sunset the following day.
We were in a bit of a pickle now. Do we turn on an engine and speed up in an attempt to arrive and be able to berth before sunset, nearing in mind that the closer we get to the Sri Lankan coast the busier it will be with commercial and fishing traffic to navigate through. Or do we slow down now and aim to arrive as sun rose the day after tmrw?
Inquiries were made, and a very helpful Giancarlo, aboard SY Gladan, had earlier arrived on dusk and was, with Harbour Masters approval, able to anchor outside the marina at a curiously named “Jungle Beach”. This was a relief and a welcome surprise as I had previously understood there was no anchoring in Sri Lanka. Perhaps dispensation for vessels arriving late, so long as next light they move on?
Spoke too soon!
This talk of finding a suitable anchorage in Galle to drop an anchor if we were to arrive after dark was always going to invite trouble. Good to be prepared of course, but deal with the here and now before parking your mind into the future. We were complacent. The passage had been, for the most part, a smooth one, but it wasn’t finished. Leading into the final night at sea, the weather models suggested wind, nothing worringly significant, but wind. Thy had also predicted a buld up of waves, upto 1.5m in height, with a period of something between 5 and 10 seconds. Manageable. What we started to see before dusk, was 3m waves, coming from all directions in some of the most confused sea state i have seen. And a period of something closer to 3 seconds. It was beyond uncomfortable. The boat bucked, rolled, reered, dove, bounced and generally carried on unhinged. Sea water was being taken on deck, and wet weather gear had to be put on to protect from the occasional splash across the helm station. This passage wasnt finished. We were no more than 75nm from the east coast of Sri Lanka, but we may as well have been 500nms away. It was to be a long night.
I had often heard of the shock to the sense of smell when approaching land after an ocean passage. And on this final morning of the 1st leg of our journey, we could smell it. The smell of the open ocean, entirely indescribable, was suddenly assaulted by new scents. Still 50nm from landfall, there it was, earth, food, flora, culture. An equally indescribable scent, but a sudden change was distinctly noticeable.
Dawn approached, and with it light. The erry darkness cloaking 3m waves from all directions, the sound of 20knot winds in the headsail (mainsail had long been put away) was nudged asside. Not sure it made the ride any better, but at least you could now see what was coming, and brace for impact!
It had been a horrible final night on this leg, certainly one to remember. Be prepared for anything was the lesson today!
And then triumphantly, finally, longer after sunrise than id have preferred, the winds began to abate, and the seas rest from their fistful unease, we sailed into a lee of the land that afforded us much needed shelter from the weather.
The boat was by now a mess. The deck and cockpit were coated in salt. Anything not bolted down in the saloon was tossed about. Oh how we longed for a good rain.
Land Ahoy!
All that had to be done now was to make Jungle Beach Anchorage, Galle before sunset. Tomorrow move across to the Marina undergo immigration, customs and harbour master formalities, rest, then think about tackling Sri Lanka!!!
We raised the Sri Lankan courtesy flag and a Quarantine flag. The yellow Q (Quarantine) flag should be raised when entering a foreign port or returning home from abroad to signal you haven’t picked up any social diseases and are otherwise healthy and in need customs/immigration clearance.
Completed
We made into the anchorage just on dusk. Anchored in 8m of water, ensured the anchor had held, and then opened the bar for a celebratory drink!
Our first multiple night passage done, and part of the vast Indian Ocean behind us. It was now time to relax and enjoy what Galle and Sri Lanka has to offer.
Statistics
Departed Nai Yang, Thailand: 0800Hrs 15th January 2026
Arrived Galle, Sri Lanka: 1830Hrs 22nd January 2026
Time Difference: Clocks retarded 1.5hrs enroute
Total Passage Time: 7 Days 10.5Hrs
Sailing: 4 Days 0.5hr
Motor Sailing: 3 Days 10hrs
Motoring: 3.00Hrs
Distance: 1.109nm
Engine Hours
| Engine | Start | Finish | Total |
| Port | 504.50 | 549.20 | 44.70 |
| Stbd | 504.20 | 542.30 | 38.10 |
Leave a Reply