High seas adventures

If the sea is known as a harsh mistress, then sailing upwind on her for 1400 miles may be likened to S&M with a particularly perverse dominatrix.

I get images of hardship, bravery and adventure- romance even- when thinking of sailing the oceans. Days of seeing only blue sea and sky. And starlit nights spent gazing at the waves and the softly glowing instruments and reflecting on being the only person awake and aware for hundreds of miles around. It is all very inspiring and there's a bit of danger too.

A friend has been selected for a stint in Antarctica. I must ask him if the tentacles of Australian bureaucracy reach that far South when he is back, because I have discovered that there is no respite from them on the ocean.

Below is a true, but unfortunately very boring account of my dealings with the public services.

The Indonesian lumbering rule & regulation juggernaut is no laughing matter but at least I pay or bribe on the spot, and just once. In Oz, I foot the bill annually for the politicians and the lawyers that invent the rules that require the departments that need the planes and boats and human resource managers and CEOs and their accomodation that send the public servants to way beyond mainland Australia to do their job which involves hassling me over and over again when I'm doing nothing more suspicious than sailing in an ecologically blessed carbon-neutral manner across the human heritage that is the ocean back to the place where the boat & I live. This all takes place hundreds of miles away from land and the nearest other human being whom I could possibly choose to bother. I could do no harm if I wanted to!

' If you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face-forever', wrote George Orwell.

If you fly to Australia, you buy a ticket and arrive hours later. If you choose to sail to Australia the customs have to be informed one week in advance. If you ask why, the answer is that it is a rule, a regulation or a law. It is felt that is an explanation. And Customs don't monitor HF or VHF radio so you need a phone.

I called from Kupang, announced my intentions and was asked to call back the next day so that the officer had access to the computers. I was quizzed on last port of call and intended time and place of arrival, the size of the boat and number of people aboard etc, etc.

While minding our own business on the high seas 12 hours later we were buzzed by a Coastguard plane- and I mean buzzed. They flew low and noisily circled the boat in a large aeroplane while I relayed the same information again by radio. We were read a 'pratique'- a paragraph of instructions of which the main one is that you cannot set foot on Oz soil until you've been processed by the Agencies.

We arrived at Ashmore Reef. An isolated coral atoll about 100 miles south of Indonesia and 3 or 400 miles west of Oz. And yes, it is delightfully scenic and it would have been a very Castaway and Robinson Crusoe experience if it wasn't for a large military-looking vessel called the 'Ashmore Guardian' moored in the otherwise deserted lagoon. Four officials soon came speeding towards us, of whom two boarded. Nice guys mind you, but I did have to fill in about three pages of details including boat registration number, call sign and tonnage and the last four ports of call. They said they didn't mind us going ashore on one of the tree tiny islands that sit on the coral. I told them that the coastguard had forbidden this (a bit odd- Indonesian fishermen can go ashore without a visa, if you are outbound from Oz you're welcome ashore, but it is very illegal if you're heading to Oz). The uniformed gentlemen promised to find out the letter of the law for us and indeed returned the next day confirming that landing was out of the question.

I pointed out that under the watchful eyes of the Ashmore Guardian AND the two huge Oz navy warships that had appeared overnight and which patrolled the lagoons' entrance, we were unlikely to do anything naughty on the island...

We did a bit of snorkelling and caught up on sleep, I even managed a brief kitesurf there hoping to have been the first to do so. The next day the Coastguard overflew the atoll and this time grilled the Ashmore Guardian for 10 minutes on channel 16 regarding our details again.

We set sail for Scott's Reef later in the arvo and once underway US warship 732 announced their position and 'live firing exercises' on the radio and warned all shipping to stay clear by 5 miles. I must be very conceited in thinking that the onus is on the gunners to aim their cannons at the empty ocean rather than at me, but politely kept my silence. Two hours later this warning was repeated from a different, closer position and I radioed to verify the information and got a reply in a very abrubt manner. I didn't dare ask about my right of way as a sailing vessel either.

A beautiful starlit night followed, complete with the gentle lapping of the waves on the bows and the soft hiss of the wake and all. I had almost developed a sense of solitude and beauty when we got strafed by the coastguard plane once more. Again the whole shopping list was dutifully relayed but -rebel that I am- I volunteered that I'd heard the 'pratique' two or three times before. At Scott's Reef ( a horseshoe-shaped reef in the middle of nowhere) we anchored for the day and did some mildly disappointing snorkelling. The official boat lurking there left us alone until we were about to leave again, but then called with a request for the whole shebang. I was getting quite irate by these repeated calls and enquired if they perhaps shared information with their colleagues, this being the sixth time in four days that I was called to account. The official apologised that he did not receive our details & I reciprocated apologies for being flippant and we went through the routine again.

The next day-just as I was considering meditating my way unto higher planes of consciousness so that I could mentally snowboard down again - we were divebombed by this infernal red/white coastguard plane once more. I was enjoying some harmless nudism on the foredeck and realised that they deliberately flew low and from downwind so as to catch us by surprise. This time ( I am an anarchist! A guerrilla fighter on the barricades in the battle for freedom and privacy!) I hinted at a sensation of déjà vu. The public servant aboard admitted that she had been on the plane on one of the preceding days but nonetheless served me the usual questionnaire once more.

We skipped the Rowley Shoals-just couldn't lay the course in the incessant Southerlies- but once near Australia I contacted Carnarvon customs with a more precise ETA and I requested permission to spend a night at anchor at Coral Bay in view of the 'inclement weather'. We went through the list again, and to ascertain that Australian Bureaucracy missed not a minute mote of vital information it was requested that I email the info too.. But I did get a call back with permission to anchor and a reiteration of the pratique.

I got some mild enjoyment from the thought that high-level meetings were held in the Oz War Room regarding an armada of boats from Indonesia all confusingly called Tribute and probably with sinister intentions converging on the hapless town of Carnarvon.

Another 24 hours of upwind sailing alongside the Ningaloo Reef under a stormjib and three reefs in the main but we made it to Coral Bay where I asked Sea Rescue for permission to use a mooring and I admitted we had not cleared in yet. She conferred with the Authorities, found CALM or DEC unhappy with us being in the marine park but at the end of the day permission was granted. She also said that Carnarvon Sea Rescue was looking for us and if it was OK that she gave them a call.

Thirtysomething knots on the nose the next day, followed by a miserable sleepless cold wet night, but eventually we sailed into Carnarvon. The Customs guy came aboard with the familiar 3 pages of questions (this time including the last six ports of call) and he then handed me his phone so that I could be quizzed by a lady from the Quarantine Department in Geraldton who also berated me for failing to inform her of our arrival. I apologised for our sneaky and stealthy entry into Oz and arranged to meet for an inspection next week. 'With a bill', she said.

Once ashore I discovered that I was expected back at work four days earlier and thus gossip had spread that we were missing, so Sea Rescue had put out an alert and the police had interviewed our next of kin regarding our whereabouts.

I don't think Big Brother is watching us. But thousands of Little Brothers do add up.

Swings and roundabouts:

I spent weeks at Kanawa's charming budget resort where I developed a taste for the spectacular diving in the area. A holiday enlivened by a visit of the Hullett family and several diving and sailing and delivery trips in the Komodo Archipelago, but now Tribute is underway again and approaching Maumere.

Kevin & Kate are crewing and we've been following the N coast of Flores Eastwards for the past five days while slowly getting into a groove of sailing and anchoring, cooking, playing guitar and chess. Available charts are of too large a scale to be useful and what books I have on anchorages leave nearly all our sailing as a voyage of discovery. The winds have generally been light and the engine's been on half the time.

Because we are sailing into the sun we can't really leave all that early- the low sun reflecting off the the morning seas' mirror surface makes it impossible to see any shallows. And likewise, we aim to find a likely place to anchor by 4 pm. We discovered some excellent spots on the way but tonight's a pretty but shitty one surrounded by coral, I haver a stern anchor out and all alarms are set for depth and drift. The coastline has been beautiful and interesting, with lots of reefs and shallows and islands.

K&K went ashore at a small muslim fishing village called Rutang. They returned saying there'd be a wedding the next day and we were very much invited for the party that night. Ashore, a marquee had been built containing a small stage with three ornate chairs on it. A generator was humming and a wall of sound equipment was set up. Mind you, the village was otherwise quite threadbare with some 50 simple weathered wooden houses, unpaved paths, and no telephone or other signs of modernity at all.

There were about a hundred people of all ages gathered under the marquee who cleared a circle into which 5 chairs were lifted- for us and the two young men who spoke a bit of English. All watched intently as we tried to communicate, later some simple food was brought to us and on my request- the bride, who joined in our staged dinner with everyone watching and commenting on our every move or word.Later the Indo pop music was cranked up and feeling indebted we created much merriment by dancing-just us and the two young men.Everyone else watched.

Later we found Tribute had been burgled of cash and phones, but leaving cameras and computers.The remains of the satphone's credit was used up cancelling accounts. Everyone was apologetic, police arrived in force and for hours we sat through procedures before heading East again, penniless and incommunicado. We are heading for Maumere where I hope to procure a

phone, restock and to pick up Peter and Arnar. The struggle continues in high spirits!

Tribute to Indonesia

Back in LBJ, the noisy, colourful, dusty and bustling town built on green hills and overlooking 20 or so islands of the Komodo Archipelago. My little spot of 2009 next to the police station has been taken and I've tied up to some jetty remnants in the old harbour. There is a long line of food stalls ashore and boats of all sizes noisily come and go. Kids are flying little kites and fishing from dugouts, sitting on the trampoline under the shadecloth gives me a prime seat to watch it all.

Hutch & I chilled out on the Gillies for a good week, swimming to shore with our dry bags containing books, sunnies and rupias and just lazed the days away. We also discovered that the resurfaced road north of Sengigi deserves a mention with the worlds great motorcycling roads, both on account of the spectacular views and its curvaceousness.

The actual trip to LBJ was a rerun of 2009 except that we sailed Teluk Saleh, the big inland sea of Sumbawa where we snorkelled on the memorably named isolated reef of Aart van Nes- who turned out to be a Dutch captain in the 1600's. There is little dutchness that remains in Indonesia otherwise, but I discovered that an ashtray is called 'asbak' here, and an exhaust is a 'knalpot'.

I seem to be suffering from some sort of writer's block. I think I'm a bit in love with Indonesia and my writing does no justice to Indonesia's beauty. It is a great privilege to have the time and money (little as is needed here) to waft along the islands, to suck in the sights and take a digital snapshot every now and then.

Six days at sea

More complaints-The first couple of days there was too much wind, we had the hatches closed and water cascading off the roof every few minutes & spent our days and nights in the cabin. We did chalk up a 215 nM day though, which is more than respectable for a 38 footer. This was balanced by too little wind in the second half of the crossing- motorsailing. At first a blessing- the boat was cleaned, sumptuous dinners prepared, and books were swapped. Dolphins cavorting on the bows and stunning sunsets. We hit a log which cracked the bow and we ruined the screacher but overall made an uneventful journey to landfall under a bright moon in a bay on the South coast of Lombok. The next day we shot the strait and cleared in at Medana Bay.

It is good to be back in Indonesia. The polite and friendly people, the inquisitive kids, the nasi and Bintang, the surfbreak at Gili Aer- it is all still there. Hutch and I resolved to chill out majorly until we feel the need to head East & I will update this blog once the stresses of transoceanic voyaging have dissolved in the clear blue Indonesian waters.

Slipped the moorings

Just a quick note to say we've left and have checked out from the International Port of Carnarvon (Yes!)

We- Bruce, Hutch & me- used the paper-rock-scissors method to decide the watch- sequence, and I am on first. Everyone's asleep, and all is quiet but for the motor droning on. The loom of Exmouth is on the horizon.

It hasn't been an easy first day- last night off Coral Bay the wind wavered from all directions and ended up on the nose. In the process we've hoisted & downed all sails between a 90 m2 spinnaker and reefs on main and jib. By midnight things got very lumpy, and by morning we sheltered under the canopy because water cascaded over the roof and into the helmsman's hatch. And despite all the wind and spray we we weren't really getting anywhere, which was frustrating.

We've ended up tired, off food and sleep deprived, a state which can be produced much

safer & cheaper at home.

But there you are.

Kees

More possibilities

Hi all, and dinkum!

Some updates: the cumbersome but entertaining process of matching sailing intentions to bureaucratic possibilities has started. Going to straight to Labuanbajo is fading as an option but hasn't actually evaporated yet. A person in the know suggested that one doesn't actually have to clear in near landfall, as long as the vessel is en route to a place where the boxes can be ticked and providing one proceeds in an inconspicuous manner.

Next- there's grace on the CAIT- it can now be done within the month, so 1/4/11 is the new deadline and that's not a joke. Bear in mind the passport has to be valid for SIX MONTH AFTER ARRIVAL. This certainly screws me up, I have to go to Perth in person to get fingerprinted for the new Dutch passport.

But my demands remain! I shall not become an Australian citizen until I'm either excused voting duties or Australian politics become less of an embarrassment. Secondly, that a national bushflyexterminationstrategy be implemented- I think that civilisation cannot gain a foothold in a country where you need both hands (opposing thumb or not) to shoo them away.

Thirdly- There is the emerging possibility of making a one-way trip, and to keep Tribute in Indo for a season in Ace's new marina on Lombok. By the looks of the pilot charts (see http://www.offshoreblue.com/navigation/pilot-charts.php) the winds become increasingly southerly after August and certainly no sane Carnarvonite would ever encourage sailing southward from the Northwest Cape then on any sort of schedule.

So that may mean keeping Tribute in Indo for nearly a year. Assuming this is possible paperworkwise, it would also mean that the voyage would likely follow a similar route to the 2009 one. Having a boat in Indo is of course a good thing with lots of exciting possibilities, but not having a boat in Carnarvon sux.

Deliberations, negotiatons and peregrinations continue... Feel free to contribute to the cloud of uncertainties while I wish you all, unseen, the best of possible vibes.

If you don't shoot, you'll always miss

Hi all,

This short bloggie just to say that plans are underway for another Indo trip, provisionally booked in for 10 weeks or so starting May 2011.

Plans for this expedition include hopefully starting where we left off in 2009, the Komodo Islands and Flores. Then exploring Flores and Sumba (SURF!) and hopefully departing from Roti (SURF!) and to reef-hop back to Oz on a broad reach visiting Ashmore and Scott Reef, possibly even Rowley Shoals.

That is The Plan. Since ancient times it has been known that in sailing nothing is certain. We can add another layer of uncertainty in the form of the Indonesian Bureaucracy which almost did us in in 2009. But, as the title of this blog suggests, if you don't even plan you can be certain that a trip of this magnitude will not happen.

Joy to all! May your cumulative feet tread rose petals only and your faces forever be spared from acne!

Kees