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Well we are back installed on Sister Midnight in Miri Sarawak, Borneo.
The flight here from the UK was painless enough, although the 90 minute queue for immigration at Kuala Lumpur had me worrying we might miss our connection to Miri, but it all worked out well. The taxi ride from the airport to the boat reminded me of how nice it is to be back, the driver wanted to know everything about our plans. Taxi drivers here, in fact, most people, are very interested in foreigners and love to chat. Also I’m used to being a bit tense when arriving in a country at the thought of being ripped off at the airport for the last leg of the trip, however I’m always very surprised at the low cost of the taxis here.

We arrived back at the boat very late, and so I couldnt see much of the outside of the boat, but it all looked good, the varnish felt good, I had worried it might have flaked in the heat, first we had to find the key. It was hidden in a secret place, which we had forgotten, I had written down the place, as I knew we would forget, but I forgot where I wrote it down. Should I really be crossing an ocean with such strained mental powers!

Having eventually located the key, we made tentative steps into the boat, no sign of water, lights on, battery looks good, no dead creatures, and on closer inspection I couldnt see anything different from when we left, a great relief. If you think I’m making a big deal of this, you might not know I once returned to our last boat, Lady Stardust, in Barcelona to find the inside looking like a bomb had gone off, everything was covered in shredded paper, fabric, other material, and mouse shit everywhere. along with dead mice. After 24 hours of cleaning, I spotted a live mouse behind the fridge and knew it would all happen again if I didnt catch it. On another occasion, as I stepped down the companionway steps into the boat I ended up stepping into 6″ of water that was covering the cabin sole (floor). So to find the boat pristine was a blessing.

So to start the blog off in style, let’s have a picture of the head (toilet)

Now you might just spot a tadpole like little fish there. For those of you not familiar with boat toilets, they work by sucking in water from the sea and flushing it back out, or to a holding tank when in harbour. It’s not unusual to get a fish sucked in. Now just to digress a moment, I think this phenomenon might shed some light on alien abductions, stay with me..
So this little fish, lets call him Freddy, is swimming along, when suddenly there’s a swirling vortex, and  he is moved from his familiar world into a shiny white porcelain bowl. Looking up he can see creatures with huge heads staring at him, The heads change as different people come to examine him. After a while, he is returned, via a swirling vortex of rushing water back to his familiar world. When Freddy finds his friends and family, and explains the preceding events, nobody believes him! Ring any bells?
Anyway, the problem here was that little Freddy was a really good swimmer, and found a little spot in the plumbing that the swirling vortex didn’t reach, so after an extended flush, he popped back into the bowl. This went on for 24 hours and many flushes, we started to worry for poor Freddy, he was now hiding whenever we peered into the bowl, later he weakened, we couldn’t rescue him (thinking about it, he could be a she), I thought about feeding it, Kathy was on the verge of giving it a name, however today it was too weak to hide from the flush, and was swept out to the sea, hopefully if will find food and thrive, but I expect it’s not got a great future. It’s a fish eat fish world out there.

So yesterday I unpacked and  started making use of the many spares I had brought out. I connected a new VHF radio up, it’s actually a fancy, but broken one from Stardust, but the only broken bit is the DSC GPS NMEA input feed, this is only a problem if we send out an automatic Distress alert, it won’t have our position, however the existing radio is not great and has no DSC function anyway. The galley light had broken, which I fixed by replacing the on/off switch, can’t imagine why that failed.

We headed off into town, walking along the beach walk, taking in a beautiful sunset, then did a big shop, had dinner at Madli’s which does nice veggie food for Kathy. We got a taxi back, then I stayed up till 4 am unable to sleep, but made up for it today by sleeping till 16:00 followed by breakfast. Hope I can get back to a normal sleep routine tonight.

I noticed that they have put up a big ‘Watch out for Crocodiles’ sign in the Marina, looking into it, there have been some 60 croc attacks here in Sarawak over the last 5 years, and that most beaches here are no longer considered safe. The problem seems to have grown over the decades since the UN put a ban on croc hunting around the world, not helped by the expansion of human habitation into forested areas. However Malaysia has recently been given the right to cull the crocs since their numbers have risen sharply and the incidents of attack have escalated. However, the government have failed to issue hunting licenses yet, so the problem is very real.

We are hoping to get some bicycles next week, I need to get fit over the next few months before we sail the north pacific.

Paul Collister

We are heading back, in two hours time, my brother Simon will take us to Manchester where we start our long flight back to Sister Midnight.

Kathy has seen fit to update the blog with the entries from some distant past, but now she is up to date and can start blogging in earnest.

We have spent the last few hours juggling bags around trying to get the contents down to 23kg, but it’s a struggle, I basically have a full ocean going yacht in my bag, just disassembled 😉 Hopefully the customs at Kuala Lumpur or Miri won’t care too much, they can charge me tax on new items, but shouldn’t as it’s for export via yacht, but this is not something that happens very often at the airport, so they wont be used to that. We have an hour spare at Heathrow, at two hours spare at KL, but we have to transit to a satellite airport there, so all in all it’s tight.

We should arrive at the boat on Wednesday evening, around 8pm, after the sun has set, and that’s when the fun might start. I have never left a boat for this long (2 months) in the tropics, and I am fearful of what awaits us. I expect some mold to have formed on the surfaces, we might have some water damage as it has rained a lot while we have been away, and boats always leak somewhere, I’m hoping it will only be minor, if at all. Also there is the big worry that something with legs has made a home of our boat, anything from cockroaches to rats are possible, but I’m hoping the measures we took back in July should have stopped this. We will see.

Once back I will update you all with our plans, but the gist of it is that we hang around Borneo until March, then head North to Hong Kong, Japan, then onto the USA, arriving by September, we have our 10 year visas now, so hopefully we should be allowed in ok.

Paul Collister

It’s almost time for us to return to Sister Midnight. She has been in her berth at Miri Marina in North Borneo since we left her at the end of July for our two-month break in the UK. Before we embark on enjoying further excursions and experiences, I am keen to complete the blog posts for the last few weeks in July. Due to intermittent Wifi and lack of time, I was unable to submit any entries or pictures before we left. They follow below and, typing as I am in a very ‘autumnal’ Merseyside, will help prepare me for the heat, sun and humidity that await us in Malaysia, not to mention the wildlife, the food and new destinations: I can hardly wait 🙂

A FAIRY CAVE, A STREET MARKET AND A CROCODILE!

The attraction known as ‘Fairy Cave’ is located about 40km from Kuching and is another ‘must see’ on the list of recommended places in Sarawak.  It’s near a place called Bau, a former gold mining settlement, and is also close to the site of a weekend street market we were keen to visit on the border with Indonesia.  To fit all this in, we were up and out by 9am, the satnav programmed with directions for the 90 minute drive. Like several of the places we’ve visited, it looked deserted and closed when we got there but the kiosk was manned and we were issued with tickets (thankfully without the offer of a ‘senior rate’ this time) and directions. The view at the entrance didn’t convey a very promising impression. Access to the cave is via a four storey concrete staircase, much like those in multi-storey carparks. To the right of it we could see the original, now disused, staircase which was cut into the steep rock face. This one had no barrier and some of the steps were crumbing but a passing guide informed us that it had been used as recently as a few decades ago – without handrails even then!

At the top of the stairs we passed through a dim, narrow passage and ascended some steep wooden steps. At the end of the passage we found ourselves inside the mountain itself. The massive cave had a huge opening, which allowed the light to flood in and the scene before us was the stuff of fairy tales…or Harry Potter, Gormenghast, Lord of the Rings, Hall of the Mountain King – take your pick! Anyway, there were plenty of ‘wow’ moments in there, and all of it was natural.  The cave is criss-crossed with concrete footpaths and steps and the slimy walls were covered in plants, ferns, and flowers. Stalactites and stalagmites abounded and some were almost meeting in the middle.

We could hear bats above us near the roof of the cave but I didn’t spot one. The ‘fairy’ that gives its name to the cave was rather understated when we came upon it. It was a tacky-looking statue that seemed to have been randomly plonked on a flat rock surface in the main cavern, as if to justify the name. I haven’t been able to find any definitive story about it anyway. Few other visitors were around and we had a delightful time exploring nooks and crannies and admiring the view of the fields and hills from the openings high up on the cave floor.

The weekend street market at Serikin had been recommended to us by a taxi driver who told us that traders from Indonesia cross the border every weekend to sell their wares (particularly Batik cloth) at bargain prices. To reach it we drove through a flat, rural district where the roads were bordered by lush banana or coconut plantations and fish farms. From the car park at Serikin Market, we could see stalls lining both sides of the long, crowded street.

They were displaying an array of handmade bowls, jewellery, musical instruments and authentic wooden souvenirs as well as the ubiquitous rolls of batik cloth. It’s a well-attended market and was thronging with people even in the heat of the midday sun. At the end of the street the stalls were packed with all kinds of exotic fruit and vegetables. Some of them had the produce laid out on the ground in attractive formations.

There were food items on display that we had never seen before and would have had no idea what to do with them, but almost every vendor urged us to buy something until we gave in and bought some strange-looking fruit that resembled chestnuts. Later, after they had been hanging around in the fridge for ages giving off a pungent aroma, we looked them up online and found out they are believed to aid fertility and are ‘an acquired taste’. We never did get round to cooking them!  We also came away with some batik, a walking stick, pictured below with its owner and a few gifts to take home.

Keen to make the most of the car while we had it, we set off to get some of the heavier provision items on Monday morning (July 10th). Mydin Hypermarket is a fairly short drive from the fish farm and was blissfully deserted when we got there, so we were in and out quickly and back at the boatyard by midday. Paul took the car back to its parking place in the lane while I carried the shopping bags to the dinghy. Standing on the bridge while waiting for him to return, I heard the farm dogs barking furiously and when I turned my head to look, I saw the cause of it and could do nothing but gape. Two of the dogs were chasing a large crocodile off the premises, forcing it into the swampy mud at the edge of the water, just below me. It happened so fast and was so thrilling I didn’t even think to get my phone out to capture the scene. The dogs were right behind its long tail, one on either side and they didn’t let up barking until it flopped into the water and swam off. I watched it until it was out of sight and thought of all the times we had crossed the short stretch of water in the dinghy when it could have been perilously close.  I understood the need for signs warning people to beware of them now; we would need to keep a sharper lookout in future. After returning the car later that evening, we spent the next few days on the boat catching up on various tasks. I didn’t see any more crocodiles during our time there – in or out of the water – but I feel privileged to have seen that one.

THE RAINFOREST FESTIVAL

Sarawak’s 20th Rainforest World Music Festival took place from the 14th-16th July and we had tickets for the opening day. It was to be our final excursion before leaving Santubong and despite not being a fan of world music, I was looking forward to attending the festival in the Cultural Village. I had been up for walking the whole way there – it is possible to do it- but the early afternoon heat was making us flag before we had got very far along the road. Paul was correct in surmising that someone would stop to offer us a lift. Our saviours were a young couple on their way to the festival, who kindly drove us as far as the park and ride spot and even offered us some of their stash of cold cans of beer. From the park and ride site it was only a 30 minute walk to the festival and we chose to do that rather than pay to get on the crowded shuttlebus to the venue. At the entrance, our bags were searched as we expected, but this being Borneo it was without the grim-faced officialdom often found at some events’ security gates. The staff were clearly enjoying the festival atmosphere and wanted everyone to have a good time: the smiles and greetings here were genuine.

The site looked totally different from our previous visit. It wasn’t overcrowded but there were lots more people, while colourful tents, stalls and cafes lined the village pathways. There was a lot going on and it was hard to decide what to do first, so we walked around the perimeter, browsing the stalls and checking out the variety of food for sale. Thankfully, alcohol wasn’t banned as I’d half expected it to be. Beer and wine were available, although typically prices were hiked up, it being a festival. Several workshops were dotted around the site, offering lessons or opportunities to make and play musical instruments and to create jewellery, clothes and woodcarvings from local materials. The bands weren’t due to take the stages until the evening so we spilt up for a couple of hours so that we could have a look around separately. Paul went off to watch some performances in the Chinese theatre while I browsed more of the art and craft stalls.

Dancers in flamboyant costumes, their faces painted with vivid colours, provided lively entertainment on the walkways, accompanied by music from musicians playing traditional instruments. It’s easy to see why the festival’s popularity has grown over the years. The emphasis is on music, culture and dance. There is no bureaucracy, no political speeches and the atmosphere is very relaxed. I couldn’t fault it in any way, although I did have a few moments of concern.

A traditional Iban opening ceremony was performed before the main events commenced. A man in traditional costume entered the main stage and began chanting while holding a placid-looking rooster. Behind him, people were swaying to the beat of the music and it was all beginning to look and sound decidedly sacrificial to my mind.  I thought it best to close my eyes until it was all over – a tactic that has served me well when watching horror films or on vertigo-inducing fairground rides.  Apparently a series of blinding flashes and loud bangs distracted the audience sufficiently to make the rooster’s fate uncertain! I’ll go with Paul’s opinion that it was all just theatre. I found out later that it was the Miring ceremony, and is performed to honour gods, spirits and ancestors and to wish the festival success. Sometimes the ritual involves the slaughter of a pig or a chicken, but while the pig is almost always killed, the chicken is often allowed to live – at the whim of the warrior.

After that, it was all about the music. As the sun set behind the jungle stage we watched bands from Sarawak, Finland, Hungary and South Africa. The highlight for me was the Finnish band called Okra Playground who played a cracking ‘folk-rock’ session using traditional Finnish instruments, and judging by the crowd’s enthusiastic reaction I wasn’t alone in my admiration.

The African music that followed them didn’t do a lot for me, however, and as we had an early start planned in the morning we were ready to leave by then anyway. The festival was a spectacular event and it wouldn’t have taken much persuasion for me to stay for the next two days, but it was time to move on. We had a six day journey ahead of us to reach the marina at Miri where we would be leaving Sister Midnight for two months.

PASSAGE TO MIRI

We left Santubong on Saturday 15th July. With a slight hangover due to a bit too much festival wine, I watched the fish farm fade into the distance behind us as we motored over the shallows of the river and out into the sea. I was sad to leave. The serene tranquility of the anchorage at Santubong would be hard to beat, even with the addition of the crocodile. I will miss the dogs, too. We made our way to Pulau Lakei, and from there to Rajang in two fairly uneventful trips apart from slight seasickness due to the pitching and tossing of the waves. The journey from Rajang to the Paloh River began with the unpleasant task of having to scrub the caked on mud from the anchor chain. When Paul had scrubbed it, I was poised in the anchor locker to flake as usual and the smell of ‘stale’ fish coming from the chain was overpowering and nausea-inducing. This was a short passage, but it took a long time because of the route we had to take in order to avoid sandbanks. For a large part of the journey the depth hardly got above 5.5 metres and the water was very murky.

The following day we set off for Patok at 9 am to catch the tide. Soon we were meandering around the curves of the Paloh River. Iban longhouses are located on these lowland riverbanks of Borneo’s rainforest. I had read that it’s possible to make arrangements to visit certain ones and to talk with the families who still live in them. Next time we are in the area we might plan ahead and do that; they have a fascinating history and culture and love to tell people about it. There was no wind but the current helped us make good progress throughout the afternoon. When we anchored, it was so shallow that for the first time, I didn’t have to reverse with the engine to set the anchor. Paul just dropped it in 3.5 metres of water and let the current pull it tight.

Wednesday 19th July was the start of a two-night passage to finish our journey to Miri. The first day was straightforward. Few other boats were around and the sea was flat calm. I took my usual 8pm until midnight watch and used the radar to assess the proximity of nearby fishing boats. We had hoped to save fuel by using the sails on this passage but the lack of wind prevented it unfortunately. The main hazards to avoid were oil rigs, disused oil well heads near the surface, and unlit fishing boats. The radar is a great comfort to me on these occasions.

On the second evening, we had company in the form of a little bird (a swallow I think). It flew around the stern for ages before settling on the solar panels and there it stayed for a good few hours. I remarked that birds are sometimes associated with myths and omens regarding boats. That very afternoon I’d been rereading the poem The Ancient Mariner. Paul’s dry response went something like…‘it’s just a tired bird having a rest and might even be dead by morning!’ 🙂

‘Look out for a seahorse!’ was the instruction Paul yelled out above the wind as we drew nearer to Miri on July 21st. Over the years, I’ve been asked to look for green, red and yellow lights and marker buoys among other things but never a seahorse. The seahorse sculpture (Miri’s mascot) is situated on a spit of land that forms the breakwater of the harbour and serves as a marker for sailors to aim for. I spotted the unmistakeable shape of its head as it gradually came into view, although it took a while for Paul to recognise it as a seahorse.

We intended to anchor outside the marina until the tide was suitable for us to tackle the very shallow entrance into the marina itself. As we got closer, the sea, which had been pretty rough on our early morning approach, got choppier. Huge waves rocked us around like a bucking bronco, just as the sun came up and the area was very busy with marine traffic. Ferries, tugs and industrial vessels were going back and forth frequently from the marina even at that early hour. Anchoring was clearly out of the question in these conditions but we were aware that the sandbar at the entrance could make it very tricky if conditions weren’t right. For an hour or so we circled around dodging ships and big waves while I craved coffee and solid ground. Still undecided about when would be best to enter, Paul called the manager of the marina, a Captain Finn, who told him it would be fine to come in right then. We waited for a gap in the traffic and slowly edged Sister Midnight over the sand bar, watching the depth sounder drop to an alarming (for me anyway) 2 metres. Luckily the marina wasn’t very full and the waves died down once we were inside. Paul guided us in beautifully and I jumped down on to the pontoon and tied us off. We had a lot of sleeping and sorting out to catch up on before setting off on a proper inspection of our new surroundings but from a quick look around, it seemed lovely. It’s peaceful, sheltered and secure, with shower and toilet facilities – although no shops, bars or cafes. Later, we were welcomed by some of the marina’s other residents who were keen to offer tips and directions regarding where to eat and how to get into town etc. They were also able to confirm how secure and peaceful the marina is. In a little over a week we would be leaving our ‘home’ in SE Asia and it was good to know there would be people around to keep an eye on her for us. Some pics below show the parts of Miri we have seen so far.

 

 

 

 

Tuesday 4th July – Semenggoh Wildlife Centre

Our guide book recommended two places to see orangutans and having spent a bit of time looking at both on the internet, Semenggoh looked like the best place to visit (funnily enough it was also the one our taxi driver had suggested). Founded in 1975, the orangutans (about 1000 of them) here are cared for in the Semenggoh Nature Reserve with the aim of rehabilitating them so they can be released into the wild. Like the Gibbon Rehabilitation Project in Thailand, a lot of them have been rescued from the illegal pet trade or have been brought in orphaned or injured. Feeding times were at 10am or 3pm so we opted for the afternoon slot, which meant setting out into the hottest part of the day. After the dinghy ride, the walk and the initial oven-like temperature inside the car, the air conditioning (once it kicked in) was glorious. It took about an hour to get there, we arrived at a little after two. We paid the amazingly cheap 20 ringgit admission fee (about £1.80 each) at a ticket booth and then drove quite a long way down to the car park. It would have taken at least 40 minutes to walk to it, yet on the narrow road down we passed signs and entrances for jungle treks, arboretums and rainforest walks – only accessible by walking back to them from the car park. All good value for money but we certainly couldn’t have done all those extras in the heat that day.

A building with a gift shop and information centre was at the entrance to the park. On the walls were pictures of some of the orangutans with their names and backstories. We’d barely started reading them when a ranger appeared to beckon us over to a nearby path where, he excitedly informed us, an orangutan could be seen on the branches of a tree. A few people were already there looking up in hushed admiration, with mobile phones held aloft to capture the image. Another ranger told us we were very lucky to see one this close as they don’t often venture too far away from their area in the rainforest.  We spotted it soon enough high up on the ropes between the trees, with its bright orange back to us, nonchalantly eating bananas and throwing the skins on the ground.

This orangutan entertained us for a good half an hour, swinging on ropes, eating, and occasionally turning round to stare at us staring at him.  The heat eventually forced us into a nearby wooden shelter where we could still see him. More arrived and gathered near to us as the appointed feeding time approached. A ranger appeared bearing more food in a sack, from which he passed coconuts, bananas and hard-boiled eggs up to the orangutan’s eager hands as he shinned down to grab it. At one point he had a bunch of bananas in one hand and a coconut in the other. After making quick work of the bananas, he proceeded to tear the hair off the coconut and then banged it against the trunk of the tree until it cracked open. He tipped the milk into his mouth, spat a large mouthful out, banged it some more and then gnawed at the white flesh, chomping while staring down at the ranger. Spying the eggs, he took some of those and spat out the shell to scoop out the hard boiled insides with his tongue. The eggs were his particular favourite I think judging by the amount he put away 🙂

At 3 o’clock we gathered to listen to a talk from the ranger concerning precautions and regulations regarding the orangutans. The alpha male, Ritchie, we were told, does not like loud noises and has a very bad temper. Orangs have very sharp teeth and are known to be strong: I don’t think we needed to be warned not to antagonise him! We followed the ranger along a narrow path with high jungle on either side of us to the feeding zone.

There were about 20 of us in the group altogether, including children – made up of Russians, French, Chinese and Indians of varying ages and I was impressed with the decorum of every one of them. The kids were well behaved, we were all respectful of our surroundings and we were all interested in the whole experience.  When we reached the viewing platform, a couple of orangs were already on the wooden structure tucking into an array of bananas, nuts and fruit. We photographed and filmed them, along with the little forest squirrels who were also making the most of the feast. It was fantastic to notice a female with a baby clinging to her tummy. Later we watched the youngster learning how to peel bananas and being taught how to climb by its mum.

One young couple who had been keen to linger and watch the activities, had missed the last bus back to Kuching and asked if we’d mind giving them a lift. They were on a travel break from their careers, he was a doctor from The Ivory Coast and she from Bordeaux, France, studying animal psychology and had met during their travels. They were as impressed with our experiences and history as we were with theirs – it’s one of the many pleasures of travel to swap stories and backgrounds with the people you meet. We dropped them off at the waterfront and spent the rest of the evening in Kuching, shopping and walking – walking so much that my out of practise legs and feet protested violently. We ate in a Chinese hawker market. I keep hoping to find a stall like the one I had been to in Penang where the food is freshly cooked in front of you, but dishes from this one were displayed in uncovered bain-maries, school dinner fashion and there was a tendency to make you feel rushed to choose what you want. The food was lukewarm and the rice was cold and rubbery – cheap, but not very appetising.

Wednesday 5th July

Today’s excursion was to the Sarawak Cultural Village – a ‘must see’ according to most travel guides and sites on Kuching. This will be the venue for the Rainforest Music Festival weekend on the 14th July so it seemed a good opportunity to check it out as it’s not too far away. The cultural village is comprised of seven authentically replicated houses and huts that were typical of those inhabited by the seven indigenous tribes native to Sarawak. There are daily performances of dances and rituals as well as demonstrations of their traditional chores, games and ceremonies. When we arrived at the ticket office, we were momentarily lost for words when we were offered the reduced price for seniors! Oh well it had to happen one day I guess.

Clutching our ‘passports’, a handy little book containing info on the tribes and some of the myths and legends associated with them, we ambled into the park behind a group of loud and animated Chinese visitors.  The first house we visited was the Chinese Farmhouse and one of the men in the group explained to us that he was showing family members how much it resembles his grandparents’ house that he used to visit as a child in the 1960s. The family exclaimed and laughed and shouted loudly to each other as they posed for pictures in every part of it. We had a quick look around that house and then discreetly headed off in the opposite direction for a quieter visit.

We climbed some precarious staircases during our visit to the longhouses. They are reconstructed from thick logs (a notched log as it’s described in the book) – the steps hewn neatly into the wood to form the footholds but they seemed to be made for tiny feet and it would have been easy to slide down and do yourself a mischief if you weren’t careful, as the pictures below show.

The huge longhouse itself consists of an open veranda which formed the communal, domestic area for the villagers – up to twenty families could live under one roof. From this outer veranda, a smaller inner veranda is the ‘street’ from which doorways lead to the individual family rooms (all set out as they would have been if inhabited). It’s a bit like a commune in a big tree house. Most of the communal areas had people demonstrating various traditional craft-making skills.

We watched items such as swords, baskets and musical instruments being created, and in one house we saw clothing made out of tree bark.  The demonstrators were all keen to chat and to explain the histories of the houses and the customs and rituals of the tribes.

I was particularly fascinated with the headhunting custom practised by the Iban tribe. After a battle, a warrior would take a single head from one of the dead and display the skull in the longhouse communal area in recognition of the warriors’ role in protecting the community. They believed spiritual benefits were derived from the heads if sacrifices in the form of pigs or chickens were made to them, while the souls of the unfortunate decapitated people were said to protect the households they graced. The heads also played an important part in mourning rituals and when headhunting was outlawed in the 19th century and heads became scarcer, a head was often passed around to bereaved villagers. The heads we saw hanging from the rafters on our visit were real (we think).

One area had various stalls with some of the handicrafts on sale. The products were beautiful and unusual and it would have been easy to spend a fortune there, but I restricted myself to one item made from a coconut: a mum and baby orangutan money box.   The whole place was very well put together in a lush jungle setting, complete with monkeys on the roofs of the buildings and in the trees.

We ended the visit in a theatre where we watched a vibrant song and dance performance depicting stories associated with the Sarawakian tribes and their daily lives. Leaving the village, we wandered down to the beach and had a drink in a bar there watching a torrential downpour of rain from the balcony. These downpours would continue all night.

Thursday 6th July – Two Museums

Heavy rain in the night filled the dinghy which we keep suspended along the starboard rail. Paul had to get up in the night to empty it to prevent it straining the rope it was suspended on. Each time I woke up I could hear the rain thundering on the roof, but by late morning when we got up and got ready to head out again, the sun had chased all the clouds away.  Our excursion for today was to The Cat Museum in Kuching. It’s widely believed that Kuching was named after the Malay word for cat; ‘kucing’. Another theory claims that it comes from the Chinese word for port; ‘cochin’. Whatever the truth about the origins of its name, the city has embraced the association with cats (a wise choice given their global popularity, and ports just don’t have that ‘cute’ factor). There are statues and sculptures of cats all over the city, and shops and cafes have made use of the theme (The Cat Gallery Gift Shop, Meow Meow Cat Café). The local radio station is called ‘Cats FM’, walls bear cat graffiti and T shirts and souvenirs are emblazoned with cats of all descriptions. Hardly surprising, then that there is a museum devoted to them.  Housed on the bottom floor of the City Hall, it’s about 20 minutes’ drive away from the city, is free and is reported to contain over 4,000 artefacts devoted to cats. After checking that it also had wifi and seats, Paul agreed we should pay it a visit 😉

The building reminded me of Liverpool’s catholic cathedral in its design and is set in beautiful lush green countryside. Inside, the four galleries are all on one floor with gift shops dotted around. Once Paul had sat himself down with his phone (he said he might join me later), I was the only one wandering around. It’s a quirky place. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not at first: it seemed a bit random with its choice of exhibits. For instance, there was an area entirely devoted to Garfield, the American cartoon cat which seemed a bit incongruous amid all the displays of stories of cats in history, literature, superstitions and legends etc. One wall had pictures of cats fighting, cats eating and cats mating and ended with the question ‘do cats kiss?’. I did enjoy it actually because I spent a long time reading the information on the boards and studying the exhibits.

Paul, meanwhile had got so engrossed in his work he didn’t have time to look around, much to his disappointment 😉 We moved on to the next museum on the agenda.  The Sarawak Museum is in Kuching centre, and houses local native arts and crafts along with specimens of local mammals and insects collected by the famous naturalist, Alfred Russel Wallace. We only had an hour before it closed, but it was an interesting hour. The building is a bit of a museum piece in itself, in a charmingly old-fashioned way. It had several dusty glass cabinets with stuffed animals, reptiles and birds in them, and wooden floors and quiet, dimly-lit rooms, like museums used to be in the UK before they became noisy, brightly lit and interactive. We ambled round, reading about the indigenous people of Sarawak and their myths and legends. These would delight any schoolchild with the tales of poison darts, sacrifices and of princesses turned into mountains. The masks they wore for battle were pretty amazing too. We got turfed out in the end because the attendant was ready to close.

A walk in the park was next. Kuching’s well-kept park is popular with joggers and one area was full of people doing tai chi or something very like it. From there we returned to the riverfront to get the ferry across to the other side, which took all of two minutes and cost 20p. I was surprised to discover it’s a lot less plush on the other side of the river. Instead of smart bars, hotels and restaurants, this riverside has a few shops and cafes that are clearly more for the locals than aimed at tourists. It’s probably what the more developed side used to look like. Things could change once the bridge that is currently under construction is finished.

By the time we’d found somewhere to eat (a tapas bar in a smart square on the plush side), it was dark and when we reached the fish farm I was eager to flake out on the boat. Before I could do that though, we had to heave the dinghy out of thick mud where it had gone aground. Somehow, we’d miscalculated the tide times and it took both of us to drag it to the other side of the small pontoon where the water was just deep enough to take our weight and motor across. Paul said the alternative would have been to wade through the mud, pulling the dinghy until we reached the water. There is no way I would have done that. I would have happily sat on the wooden pontoon until morning before putting my legs in that creature-laden mud! I resolved to double check the tide times for the next day’s trip.

I have just read an article about a poor family who have lost everything they had when their catamaran went aground on a reef in the south Pacific last week. They have said the Navionics chart didn’t show the reef, and the coastguard agreed. I thought it was common knowledge that electronic charts can vary in accuracy a lot, especially in remote areas not used by bigger ships. We cross reference several charts, including paper ones before deciding on a plan. However that hasn’t stopped us hitting things 😉 . I assumed that the reason our marina was 1 mile out to sea on all our electronic charts here was due to a similar charting error, but when we were sitting in a restaurant, maybe a mile inshore the other night, we were told that just a few years ago, we would have been up to our necks in the waters of the south China Sea. A massive area here, including that of the marina is built on reclaimed land, the charts don’t have that yet, so all is explained. What amazes me, is that the land, which now I look at it, is obviously very flat in every direction, has such a mass of vegetation, trees that look decades old, can only have been here for 5 years or less. Stuff grows fast here.

There’s a lovely development right at the entrance to the marina, effectively it’s the end of a substantial breakwater. There’s a sea horse built at the entrance, one of the symbols of the area, and on approach, I remember asking Kathy to keep an eye out for a large sea horse, that was our guide in. I’m not sure she took me seriously, but see if you can pick it out from the pictures below.

This building is a massive structure made of timber, it looks amazing inside, and I think it was built from local timber using traditional local skills. 

I really like Miri, it’s a mellow town, seems like there’s everything you need here, the people seem very happy and they are very friendly. There’s a good selection of food and drink, a few decent supermarkets, no Waitrose, or even Tesco, but after Tarempa, we have modest needs 😉
The marina folks all seem friendly and helpful, there are quite a few boats whose crew have arrived here and liked it so much they have decided to stay, some have been here many years, others have applied for citizenship in Sarawak, including the couple who took this photograph, for the website, which I have borrowed, I hope they don’t mind.

What’s more bizarre, is that we met an Englishman in town who lives close to the marina, his house backs onto the lake/backwater of the marina, where he keeps his boat, and he informed us of another brit who lives close by, who turns out to be someone we know and have seen down our local sailing club back home many a time, when we used to drink there of a weekend. Small world or what.

I was up at 6:30 this morning to get a coat of varnish on the woodwork, and later I plan to change the coolant in the engine, putting in new antifreeze, not for the freezing bit, but for the protection against rust it gives. Later we will drag the headsails down and stow them away. I figure that the protective layer that saves the sails from the sun, called a UV sacrificial strip, will last 3 months longer out of the sun for 3 months, and this usually fails long before the sails, so if I do this every year for 4 years, I will get another years life out of the sail. but it’s a big pain getting the sails down and up.

Tonight we will head into town in search of some vegan food for Kathy.

Not long until we fly home.

Paul Collister

 

Thursday 29th June –To Satang Besar

Weighed anchor on a hot sunny morning just after nine. Sadly, no further turtles were spotted but I don’t intend to stop looking; there’s always a chance of seeing one in these waters. A five hour journey stretched before us.  It was too hot to linger up above and the cabin was stuffy even with the fans on. A slight breeze provided some relief later in the afternoon but on days like these at sea, you long for sunset and the reprieve from heat it brings. At half past two we anchored near an island not too dissimilar to the previous one, put the canopy up and retreated below for cooling showers.

Things changed late in the afternoon. Paul had checked the weather and noted that a huge squall was on the way. It turned out to be a massive one. It suddenly went very dark and the wind got stronger and stronger as the the deluge continued. The boat rolled, pitched and tossed for over an hour rendering me helpless to do anything but sit it out below; on hand in case Paul needed help above. The anchor held very well though and post-squall I was able to resume creating the latest piece de resistance in the galley using ‘stuff’ to make a tasty pie: chestnuts, onions, lentils, herbs and veggies in pastry, accompanied by gravy made from scratch because we have no handy granules. I was chuffed with the gravy,  which I made using a thick dark liquid called cooking caramel (found in most Asian shops), onions, vegetable stock and cornflour.

Friday 30th June – Santubong

An early start this morning in order to catch the tide for our short passage into the river. We almost didn’t start at all because the anchor was stuck in the mud. Yesterday’s fierce squall meant that Paul had to let more chain out and the anchor was well and truly dug in, not for long though luckily and we were on our way to by 8:30. On the route Paul related various hazards and conditions to be negotiated and avoided on the approach to our anchorage. These included underwater rocks and shipwrecks, the urgency to beat low tide, a sandbar and fishing nets and buoys. He also said the river has crocodiles and it isn’t advisable to snorkel, swim or do boat repairs under water. As he was telling me this, I saw a movement in the water and for a split second thought I was seeing a croc already but it turned out to be a long, thick sea snake.  We traversed each of the hazards slowly and surely, steering slalom-like around the many stationary fishing boats at the entrance to the river and were ready to drop anchor at 10:30 in the shadow of an imposing mountain. We anchored in 13 metres in mud under a scorching hot sun that burned my feet and legs as I stood at the helm. Opposite our spot is a small wooden pontoon with a bridge leading to a yard, which Paul told me is part of a fish farm and we could just make out some buildings beyond that. Half an hour later it was apparent that we were in a pleasingly restful place, and it has good wifi to boot.

Paul intended to go ashore as soon as possible to introduce himself and the boat to the manager but the dinghy outboard wouldn’t start and the current was too strong to row across. The engine had to be fixed of course, meaning more sweaty work in the heat of the cockpit. Apparently the problem was down to water leaking into the fuel, but this was sorted out quickly and the outboard was back in action.

Once ashore Paul arranged a diesel delivery with a guy who was working on the fish farm and booked a taxi for a trip into town to get provisions. By the time we left at 3:30 it was hotter than ever and the tide had gone right out to reveal several lizard-like creatures scurrying around on the mud. They looked like baby crocodiles and were fascinating to watch but I’d hate to walk among them. We were greeted by the pack of dogs Paul had already encountered and told me about. There are about 6 of them and they all barked but wouldn’t come too near us. They’re the sort of dogs who bark loud and furiously while wagging their tails the whole time and they loved it when I spoke to say hello and tell them they were good dogs 🙂

We waited for the taxi in heat so oppressive I thought I would flake out and it wasn’t a whole lot cooler inside the taxi. The driver was a mine of information about the area. He lives locally and told us about places we should visit and about Santubong in general. Fishing and farming are the main industries here he said, and urged us to try Sarawak Laksa, a spicy chicken noodle and prawn soup: a local speciality. I asked him about the mountain. It’s called Santubong Mountain and is 2,655 feet high, he told us, and it can be climbed – he had climbed part of it but hadn’t managed to reach the summit. You need to be fit and healthy, there is a path to follow and it takes about 6 hours to reach the top. I looked up at it towering above me and felt tempted to conquer it until I thought better of doing something so strenuous in these high temperatures. I bet you see an impressive panorama from up there, though.

During the drive, which took about 30 minutes, both of us noticed how much more upmarket the environment here is, compared with Peninsular Malaysia. The roads, verges and houses are well maintained and larger and the cars and scooters are mostly new and much smarter-looking. We were dropped off at a mall where the supermarket ‘Giant’ is located and arranged with the driver to be collected at 6:30.  Discovering that the supermarket didn’t sell alcohol, we decided to ask our well-informed driver to stop somewhere on the way back – he was bound to know where to get some wine or beer, I thought. Meanwhile, it was a luxury to walk the aisles picking up things we hadn’t been able to get for weeks. Heavy rain was falling as we shopped and Paul was concerned about its effect on the anchor, but we had half an hour to kill before the taxi was due so decided to grab a quick bite to eat in one of the mall’s food outlets. We finished just in time to walk out to where we expected to see the taxi waiting. He wasn’t there. He still wasn’t there 40 minutes later! One guy, seeing us alternately pacing and looking up and down the road, kindly offered us a lift to wherever we wanted to go. I was tempted but Paul didn’t want to let the taxi driver down in case he’d been unavoidably delayed, plus we hadn’t paid him his fare yet. When he did turn up 10 minutes after the other guy’s offer, he truthfully (and smilingly) admitted that he’d simply forgotten all about us. Paul, admiring such a frank admission, bit back any admonishment he’d got ready to let rip. It rained heavily all the way back and the driver cheerfully (he really is a happy soul) delivered the news that there would be nowhere on the way home that sold alcohol because the whole of Santubong is dry. Disappointingly, I would have to wait until our Kuching trip on Monday before enjoying my first glass of wine in two weeks.  It was dark and raining heavily when we got back and the dinghy was full of rainwater.  We had to lift it out of the water (no mean feat that) for Paul to pull the plug in order to drain it all out. For once I was glad to enter the hot interior of the boat to warm up (and dry off). Fell asleep listening to the soothing sound of rain pounding on the roof.

Weekend July 1st and 2nd

Our tickets home are booked! We leave on the 1st August and return on the 3rd October so two whole months to look forward to, catching up with friends and family. We enjoyed a lazy Saturday on the boat. It’s very tranquil anchored here – only a few fishing or diving trip boats pass by every now and then, and even they’re not noisy. On Sunday morning Paul collected the diesel he’d ordered and I helped to lug the heavy containers on board, after which we both retired below out of the heat. I made more bread and read while Paul worked at programming and at 5 o’clock we went ashore to have a look at the village and take some pictures. Santubong is a tiny and charming place, very rural and pretty with well-kept houses on stilts above the river.

The warning about crocodiles was confirmed when we came upon this sign near the beach – I almost expected to see them on the sand in front of us.

The beach itself was amazing, especially in the fading light. Large boulders littered the sand and I couldn’t help picturing David Attenborough crouching among them while telling us about the feeding habits of salt water crocodiles.  Near the end of the beach we came upon some dogs peeping out from behind the boulders. They seemed to be living there in a pack and took little notice of us. It’s difficult to capture the ethereal beauty in pictures, but I had to try.

Monday 3rd July – A day in Kuching

We turned up at the fish farm entrance at the agreed time of 10:30 to meet our taxi driver from the night before, hoping that he wouldn’t forget us again. It was too hot to be standing around for long periods. He was bang on time thankfully and on the way to Kuching he provided us with lots more useful tips and info about places to visit and even advised Paul on the best type of car to hire, along with an interesting explanation about the petrol pricing system here. It seems prices are announced by the government each Tuesday evening and it goes into effect on Wednesday morning, causing people to rush out to fill up on Tuesday night if the price is due to increase.  My first impression of Kuching as we drew near was that it’s a big city, or bigger than I expected at least. Skyscrapers came into view, there was a lot more traffic and we passed office complexes, large ornate mosques and smart apartment blocks. High rise hotels and signs for museums indicated we’d reached the centre. We were dropped off at the waterfront, where all the souvenir shops are located.  A slow walk along that street was our first mission, as recommended by our guide book, which proclaimed it a ‘shopping mecca’. The shopfronts are old and quite charming.

Inside them it’s a browser’s paradise and we strolled in and out of several, admiring the handmade gifts, local crafts and unusual carved souvenirs. I was keen to have a glass of wine after that now that we were in the (wet) city, and our taxi driver, naturally, had recommended The James Brooke Bistro as a good place for lunch. It’s the sort of place Paul hates because it’s clearly geared towards Western tourists from its style, its name (after the first white Rajah of Sarawak) right down to its bill of fare: spiced wedges, pizzas and burgers.  It is, however situated on the waterfront, is reasonably priced, and it sold wine.  We sat down. The food was ok, the wine was most welcome and the view was lovely. The restaurant also had some cats, one of them was a tiny black kitten that a member of staff told us she had rescued from the middle of the road earlier in the week. I asked nicely, but Paul wouldn’t let me take it back to the boat.

After lunch we carried on walking, making our way to Chinatown where Paul had booked a hire car but they were still waiting for it to be returned from its previous customer. The lady from the car hire company let us leave our bags in the office while we had a walk around Chinatown and did a bit of shopping. By the time we got the car (a nice little white VIVA) it was 3 o’clock and too late, we thought, to fit in customs and immigration but we could squeeze in a drive to Kuching Marina to declare the boat’s arrival into Malaysia. After filling out a form there we were told that we could still get to immigration in time. It wasn’t far away apparently and a lady helpfully provided directions. We tried in vain to follow those directions but maybe they were a bit vague (drive past the building with the green gates and turn right). We drove around for over an hour trying to find the building. When we did we weren’t allowed to take the car through the barrier because we didn’t have a security pass so we had to park it and walk a fair distance to the entrance in cloying humidity. It was another old fashioned building but the guy who processed us was young and charismatic.  A good-looking guy, he lounged casually in his seat with a grin on his face while he asked us questions. In lieu of a boat stamp, the lack of which always causes some consternation, Paul gave him a printed card with all of Sister Midnight’s details on one side and a picture on the other. He was really chuffed with it and immediately looked it up online, smiling all the while. He even googled West Kirby because he was curious to see what it looked like. From entering the building hot, tired and slightly irritable (well I was anyway) we left it smiling and impressed. Customer service at its best. On we went to customs hoping for a similar stress-free experience. No one was there when we arrived so two security guards gave us a number to call and one of them produced a chair for me near the fan. They then lent Paul a mobile to call the number because his battery was flat. I just love Malaysia. A smartly dressed young lady turned up shortly after and unlocked the door to a tiny room straight out of the 50s in décor. There was a bed with a crocheted cover on one side of the room and two wooden desks on the other. There was a computer but internet was slow and it took a long time to enter all the necessary details and sign the paperwork. Because we didn’t have spare copies of certain documents she had to take pictures of them with her phone. Few words were exchanged but we left there legitimate at last and set off to find yet another place recommended by our taxi driver.

The shop was called Ting and Ting and is apparently a good place to find Western products…and affordable wine. I wanted to buy some Marmite and some wine. I found both in there, along with a few other necessities and then we headed back to the boat to do some online research for our next excursion: this one would involve orangutans! 😉

 

Kathy

Thursday 22nd June Temburun to Airuba

An early departure was planned and I duly woke early to discover that there had been a fierce storm in the night. Paul had sat in the cockpit and watched it – prepared to motor off if it escalated, while I had slept all through it again (catching up on all the sleep lost through being disturbed by the wailing no doubt). We were back out tackling the coral reefs by 9 o’clock. It was overcast and thus easier to spot the coral without any glare from sunlight. The dark clouds soon brought forth a squall so I went below to check the course on the OpenCPN programme on the laptop, and by 10:30 we hit the open sea. There wasn’t enough wind to put a sail up but Paul put a line out just in case he got lucky and bagged a fish…still no luck on that front, though.

An hour later the wind was strong enough to put the mainsail up. I steered and kept us into the wind, I’m definitely getting the hang of it now. With the main and head sails up we were able to lower the engine revs to save on fuel because Paul was concerned there might not be enough to get us to Kuching. Just as we turned the engine off completely though, the wind disappeared altogether and it went on again. We arrived at 3:30, anchored in 9.5 metres of water and admired the beauty of our surroundings. It’s quiet, uninhabited and totally unspoilt. Just what we (or I at least) needed after recent crowds and noise.  The pictures speak for themselves.  I took them during a trip in the dinghy to check out the area.  The litter-free beach had a tree full of butterflies and the clear water revealed fish we hadn’t seen before on our explorations such as a huge flat fish which looked like a plaice but was probably a ‘ray’ of some kind. One day I hope to be able to name some of the exotic creatures and plant life we see more accurately.

Friday 23rd June – Airubu to Bawah

On to our final Indonesian destination today.  Bawah, our quaint guide book proudly boasts, is a paradise island set to rival the beautiful Tahitian island of Bora Bora. Proud claims indeed! We negotiated our way through a passage between two islands with coral banks very efficiently – we’re definitely getting better at this 😉

From about 11:30 onwards we were subjected to squall after squall. The first one wasn’t too bad but at 1 pm we endured a fierce one. I had to take the helm while Paul got the sail down in heavy rain, 30 knot-winds and poor visibility. The radar picture shows the extent of it. Due to the pitching and tossing (think ‘bucking bronco’) motion of the boat I had felt slightly nauseous but the combination of cool wind and rain on my face up in the cockpit soon sent it away. Paul hand steered during the worst of it, relishing the challenge as usual 🙂

The bad weather had abated by the time we reached Bawah. It had left big waves in its wake though and I hoped the lagoon we were heading for would be sheltered from the resulting swell. The shallowest part of the entrance to the lagoon dropped to 3.5 metres – excruciating for me, always fearing going aground but it got deep again almost immediately. Next, we had to hook a mooring buoy, but it was totally unlike the ones I’m used to. This one didn’t have a loop to catch at the top. A different technique would be necessary to hook it so we swapped our customary tasks. I took on the steering towards it while Paul got ready near the bow to secure it with the boat hook.  It’s a tricky manoeuvre because steering isn’t as easy when speed is slow and I’d never tried it before but I was chuffed to get near enough on the second attempt for Paul to grab the hook.

We were the only boat moored in the lagoon, which is surrounded by a semi-circle of small islands. The main one is under construction to become a luxury resort that is due to be completed sometime this year. The whine of a sander or a drill involved in the construction could be heard when we switched the engine off. It struck me as an incongruous sound in such a paradisiacal environment. We’d learned earlier in the afternoon that it isn’t currently possible to go ashore because of the construction work going on but I didn’t think we’d be missing much. It was a cool and overcast afternoon so it lacked the benefit of being bathed in sunlight as in Airubu but this island wasn’t a patch on it. It’s pretty enough but it lacks something. Perhaps it’s a little too refined with its luxury accommodation and symmetry so that through being tweaked to perfection the natural beauty has been marred, stripping it of charm. Viewing it from the boat was fine for us anyway. Our plan was to stay for two days but Paul said he’d check the weather and we might possibly leave earlier. I set to making some bread in case it would be too rocky to do it on passage.  Looking through the binoculars later to peek inside the chalets under construction, I made a note to check the place out in a few years to look at the finished result.

Saturday/Sunday 24th & 25th June – Depart Bawah for night passages

The forecast was for more squalls so we decided to stay another night. It had rained on and off all night but was only slightly rocky so we took the opportunity to catch up with various tasks on Saturday and had an overall restful day, watching the guys working on the resort, tidying the quarter berth and playing scrabble (we know how to live it up here 🙂

On Sunday we got up at 6am for our planned early departure and I positioned myself at the bow to check the coral at the shallow entrance. It was beautifully clear and we skirted over it with no problems. Up went the mainsail, Captain Mainwaring was steering and we were in the cockpit discussing the journey when I happened to look down and noticed coral alarmingly close to the surface. I yelled out ‘Paul – the depth!’ It was 4.5 metres and he quickly steered us away from an unexpected coral reef! This was the start of a 48-hour passage which is the longest we’ve done on this boat. It’s also the longest that either of us has been without internet. It’s not such a bad thing considering all the recent bad news and also how much of a distraction it can be but I do miss keeping up with news from friends and family. We are able to get news from The BBC World Service which is often a little ‘scratchy’ sounding, and reminds me of wartime broadcast recordings.

We put the watch system into operation straight away and Paul took the first 8 until midday one. As soon as the wind picked up all the sails were out, giving us a speed of 7 knots without the help of the engine. This lovely situation lasted until I took over, by which time squally showers were all around and the speed had gone down to 5 knots.  The wind changed direction frequently an hour into my watch, making the sails flap noisily, and then heavy rain fell and visibility was poor. Paul had to come up to deal with the sails and we both retired below, using the radar, AIS and OpenCPN until it abated. My plans for dinner went slightly awry that evening. I had been thrilled to find dried pasta penne on sale outside one of the shanty shops in Terempa. It was displayed loose in a huge basket and despite entreaties for less, the lady server kept piling it into a carrier bag, smilingly insisting via hand gestures that it had to be 1kg.  I tipped two portions of it into boiling water and as soon as I stirred it I could tell it wasn’t any kind of pasta penne I had ever come across before. Almost immediately it dissolved into a creamy glutinous mass and when I tasted it a few minutes later I hastily made plans for a more appetising alternative (wholewheat spaghetti). I still don’t know what we bought but it definitely looked like pasta as the pics below show.

I took the 8 until midnight watch. The moon had set by then and it was full dark, clear and the sky was full of stars. It’s mesmerising to lie on your back staring up at them, and there were plenty of shooting ones too. I also saw a spectacular display of lightning in an electrical storm – long jagged spears of it hit the sea, creating a bright orange gash through the blackness. Not many boats were nearby, I only had to steer behind one to avoid a collision.  To fight sleep I stood up near the companionway and let the cold breeze wash over me – an effect equivalent to a splash of cold water on the face.  There were no more squalls but the sea got steadily choppier.

Monday 26th June – Night Passage in The South China Sea.

Spotting Paul doing the usual ‘sleep-doze-alarm-check-back/to/sleep’ cycle on his watch, I suggested he go below for a proper sleep at 4:30 am. I was wide awake and all set for my four hours by then anyway. Stars were still visible but it was already beginning to get lighter and it was easy to see where the sun would rise, from the hazy orange hue on the horizon in the east.

Nothing was around, the waves had diminished leaving only a slight swell and it was deliciously fresh and mild in the cockpit.  The flat water presented some intriguing shapes as I stood looking out. One dark shape that I was convinced was a whale turned out to be part of a thick tree trunk, while others were nothing more than black rubbish bags. I did see one huge black thing leap out of the water, far too fast for me to determine what it was. I watched the sun rise at 6, drinking coffee as the sky displayed an impressive array of red, orange and pink shades. All the sails had been taken down during Paul’s watch because there was no wind at all. I did suggest it might be a good idea for me to learn how to control the sails but for some reason he didn’t seem too keen on the idea and insisted he really doesn’t mind being woken up to do it! I slept a little during the morning. It was going to be a hot and long day with the 4 hours on, 4 hours off system in place. There was little to do apart from read or type so it’s very relaxing in a way and it’s never boring. My leisure time is spent with Charles Dickens in Victorian London or Jo Nesbo in frozen Norway, not to mention a host of other places through the travel literature I devour. I’m also compiling a notebook of information on provisioning, storage and recipes for future reference.

It was flat calm with no wind during my watch so the engine was on the whole time. With the wine all gone, I had a can of cold beer as my evening drink. Another dinner plan went slightly awry when I discovered that weevils had invaded the last packet of sosmix, so the fish had that for dinner while we had eggs instead of veggie sausages to go with the fried potatoes and beans. A very comforting and filling meal for the lethargy that kicks in after two days of broken sleep.  I struggled to stay awake during the 8 until midnight watch. Apart from the current pulling us off course a couple of times, it was a quiet and uneventful four hours and it was a relief to hand over to Paul.

Tuesday 27th June

It was something of a struggle to rouse myself to take over the 4 am watch this morning. Paul told me I would need to keep checking the autopilot’s course because the current was pulling us to the right and we had to avoid the headland!! I also noticed we were in considerably shallower waters. I’d clearly need my wits about me. On the plus side it was getting lighter by the minute, the sea was calm and it was a lovely temperature.  I could see Borneo in the distance and that kept making me grin with amazement and delight. Me in Borneo! The word alone evokes memories of David Attenborough speaking reverently while crouched on its shores as he told us about the origins of life in programmes from the 70s and 80s. It was yet another ‘I never thought I’d get to see this’ moment on this literal trip of a lifetime.

We were due to reach our anchorage in the afternoon and progress was steady. There wasn’t much of a sunrise view but it began to get hot quickly when it rose so I retreated to the starboard deck where it was cooler and sat looking for sightings of sharks or dolphins…or anything alive. Speaking of which, in case anyone’s wondering; Paul still hasn’t had any success catching a fish! Sometime around mid-morning we crossed over from Indonesian waters into Malaysian. I know this because my phone changed its time to an hour ahead. We arrived at a place called Cape Tanjung Datu just after 3 (or 2pm Indonesian time). As this is just a stopover on the way to Kuching it was a good time to read up about it and its environs: phrases such as ‘tribal longhouses’ ‘former headhunters’ and ‘old trading town suffused with old memories’ jumped from the pages and thrilled me. It also promises some unique street markets, quaint shops and and great street food. We’ll have to hit the streets then.

Wednesday 28th June – To Telang Besar

Sometime during the night it began to rain and continued heavily well into the morning, bringing a significant swell with it.  We weighed anchor at 9:30 in the drizzle but it was deliciously cool and there was sufficient wind to put the sails up. Our course coincided with a squall: we headed straight for it, listing heavily to starboard under a white and dark grey sky. The angle sent a few things on the move below but stowage is pretty good now.  The next few hours were not exactly ‘rough’ but we tacked a few times to make the most of the wind, so the boat tipped at steep angles alternately from port to starboard. Sometimes we were pitched and tossed in the higher waves. There was some doubt whether we would make our original destination due to the weather and current hampering progress.  Rather than rush and risk getting there in the dark we decided to stop halfway at a small island called Besar which is also a turtle sanctuary. I was so thrilled to spot one on our way in to the shallower water. It was huge – much bigger than I thought turtles were and I happened to spot it in the act of catching a fish. Its head emerged out of the water and a flipper followed to hit the surface before it dived down for its prey. The beach where the eggs are laid and hatched is visible from our spot so with the aid of binoculars we could look for more sightings. It’s good to be back in Malaysia.

Kathy

 

 

 

Friday 16th June – Provisioning in Terempa

Woke to another blistering hot, sunny morning and breakfasted on tiny sweet bananas while listening to the radio. We’ve resolved to download some podcasts of favourite shows for future long passages with no internet.  Muslim shops and businesses tend to either close early or remain shut on Fridays so we went to town mid-morning to see about acquiring more water and fuel for the journey. Two very helpful ladies from a roadside stall near the mosque were advertising diesel for sale, and arranged to deliver it to the boat the next morning.  After that we bought a case of soda water and orange juice, but all our enquiries about where to get water for the tanks proved unsuccessful. Luckily, an Indonesian man employed as crew from another yacht happened to overhear us as we bought two huge plastic water containers and offered to translate Paul’s request to one of the harbour staff.  While Paul filled the containers from inside the ferry terminal, I chatted to the guy. He told me he was from Bali and that it was his first visit to Terempa, too. When I asked what he thought of it, he replied that he wasn’t too sure what to make of the place. Probing a little, I got the impression that he’d expected them to be a bit more developed. While loading the water into the dinghy we met the couple anchored next to us who were collecting water they’d ordered for their tanks so we were able to arrange a delivery with the same guys. A highly successful morning all in all.

When we got back to the boat, it began to rain heavily and Paul caught more water from it – he’s still figuring out how to devise the most effective construction for the purpose.  In the spirit of this ‘good life’ lifestyle we seem to be adopting, I got on with baking more bread. I blame the old packet of yeast I used, but it wasn’t a success – it was so heavy and hard, it could have put a hole in the boat if dropped.  Back to the breadboard then – I’ll keep trying.

Saturday/Sunday 17th&18th June

In order to drown out the loud wailing and shouting of prayers last night, I plugged my earphones in and listened to The Archers on my phone…I bet there aren’t many people who have put that in a sentence!

The diesel arrived bang on time at 10am and while the tanks were being filled I was able to indulge in the luxury of washing my hair now that water is in the tanks. That’s not as bad as it sounds – going for long periods without washing hair. I have it in a ponytail most of the time and there’s no requirement to look one’s best here 🙂 Humidity and sea water soon make a mess of long hair so I know why bandanas and scarves are so popular with female sailors. I made more bread, which came out really well this time despite using too much water due to one of the measuring jugs being way out with its cup levels. The boat was covered in sticky dough and flour and took me ages to clean it all up but it tasted gorgeous.  It toasted well the next morning too, and we have a tiny freezer so one loaf was stored in there. We didn’t do much on Sunday apart from listen to the radio and catch up on internet stuff.

Monday 19^th June – Departing Terempa – attempt fouled and getting stuck on rocks!

Up early and off to the market for the final shop and to check out of Indonesia before our departure. We were out by 9am on a cool, fresh and overcast morning. Our first stop was the fish market so that Paul could have a fresh fish for dinner.  The picture doesn’t show him with the fish he bought which was put into a small bag with its tail poking out of the top – it looked so funny.

We then made our way towards the immigration and customs area for the usual bureaucratic process and lots of waiting around. Humidity had increased by the time we emerged to continue shopping and it’s hard to concentrate in the heat and crowded pavements. This way of shopping – with the language barrier, all the traders gesturing and beckoning, and talking at once while brandishing various produce at you – just adds to the stress.  It’s particularly hard in the market where you have to select your produce, hand them all to the vendor, ascertain the cost, get money out while balancing bags, purses and reading glasses. All this in narrow, crowded hot alleys, being jostled and nudged while customers and traders are staring and blatantly curious. At one point I felt like a living exhibit in a performance art production and was close to bursting into tears. One stallholder, noticing my discomfiture asked where I was from, engaged me in conversation and said I must miss my family. He was so kind, I soon regained my composure.

We won’t have another chance to shop for quite a while so I’m going to have to be creative with what we’ve managed to accrue.  We went back and forth to the dinghy with our stashes and on one trip, discovered that the rope Paul had tied the dinghy to the wall with had shifted with the tide and moved the dinghy so that it was inaccessible.  This part of the jetty is always full of people waiting for their lifts back so it wasn’t long before Paul was able to hop on one of these to get to the dinghy – it provided a bit of entertainment for the people watching anyway.

A few more trips and we were all done. It was a relief to get back to the boat and prepare to leave, until we discovered that we were stuck! The anchor had either lodged under a rock, or the chain had wrapped around one. We tried a few tactics to free it but to no avail. Seeing our predicament, a guy from a neighbouring catamaran came over and told us he might be able to help by diving down tomorrow. Hearing this, we switched the engine off and prepared to stay another night. An hour or so later, however the guy returned with his diving gear and a friend, all set to free us. It took a few goes, with all four of us playing a part but we were free by 5pm. It was too late to go very far by then but we needed to anchor somewhere away from the coral and rocks.  I was all for going further out of the bay but Paul thought it would be a good idea to try the bay around the corner. So off we went, and it did look nice there. It also looked like it was about to rain and was getting steadily darker so I was keen to get settled. We motored around a bit, chose a likely spot…and got stuck on a rock again!  Thankfully we were able to free ourselves without the use of a diver and returned to Terempa Bay before it got fully dark. We anchored in 18 metres of water and crossed our fingers that it wasn’t on rock.

Tuesday 20th June To Temburun

It’s been the coolest temperature since I arrived in Asia almost a year ago.  Rain showers continued throughout the night and when we opened the windows early this morning, a fresh breeze wafted in that almost verged on the chilly side…but not quite.  Paul had some programming work to finish so we had a leisurely morning until we felt the anchor jolt, and sure enough, it was stuck on rock again. Hoping against hope that we wouldn’t have to call on the guy from the catamaran again, I was relieved to hear Paul shout that we were clear and very thankful to be leaving that particular anchorage.  We were heading for Temburun to see the waterfall there, described as magnificent and spectacular in the guide book given to us at the tourist board event. It’s at its best after lots of rainfall so that box had been well and truly ticked. The description goes on to say that the running water looks ‘graceful’, and that the clear water is like a ‘snow-melt flowing in between black and brown stones’ which I thought quite bizarre in a country that isn’t likely to see any snow. The attraction is narrated in a similar quaint manner that can’t fail to raise a smile (and not in a sneering way). It’s rather cute:

This waterfall charm more obvious when you’ve climbed. To arrive at the location, exactly in the middle of the waterfall, you have to climb staircases on the rugged hill, located on the left side of the waterfall. Tired enough to ride…but when you reached there you will treated by its exquisite view and the cool atmosphere around it. Its clear water is just like chasing each others, flowing without pause, through the cavities of various form and size of the stones. At certain points, the flow comes down to a natural pond that a quite wide sizes. Translucent greenish. It’s tempting anyone to jump and immediately tasted its cool sensation.

The passage to get there was potentially hazardous because we had to traverse the shallow coral reefs but it went well much to my relief, and we anchored in 14 metres of water at 1pm.  The waterfall was visible from our spot. Rivulets of water running down the brown rocks as opposed to torrents and we could see the steps (staircases) when we looked through the binoculars. The village itself looks a bit like the Muslim village we went to in Thailand in that the small dwellings are on stilts with wooden walkways. The visit would wait until the following day however. I had bread to bake and soup to make while Paul made the most of the internet connection in case we lose when we move further on.

Wednesday 21st June – Waterfall in the rain

Just as we were about to set off to go ashore, a squall arrived so we had to wait for it to abate. I had a go at steering the dinghy across to the jetty in a fine drizzle of rain. I got the hang of it eventually – Paul thinks it will be handy for me to know what to do in case I need to rescue him at any point! A fisherman tying his boat to the jetty nodded and smiled as we approached and Paul asked him if it was ok to leave our dinghy there.  As he tied it up, I noticed that our arrival had attracted the attention of other villagers. Faces appeared in some of the windows and two pretty little girls were waving frantically from one of them. They were delighted when we waved back. It was so quiet in this village after the hustle and bustle of Terempa. There were the usual motorbikes riding around but not as many. It is without doubt the most remote place I have ever been to. Visualised on a map, it’s little more than a speck among the tiny group of Anambas Islands – themselves a fair way out from the mainland of any country. Tourists are rarer in these parts than in Terempa, obviously. The people here stared at us but it seemed less intense somehow. I had the feeling they were just pleased to see visitors.

We asked a young boy via a series of gestures whether we were going the right way to the waterfall and he nodded eagerly and pointed to the pathway. The rain had stopped and it felt very humid again. It was also wet underfoot and I hoped it hadn’t brought out any millipedes or leeches.  We soon found the steps that led up to the falls and I jumped when a lime-green lizard scurried across the path and into the ferns. That was one creature I wouldn’t have minded having a closer look at. The climb was easy enough although parts of the steps next to the waterfall itself were a bit difficult to negotiate in flip-flops.

The rainfall had increased the flow of water and it was worth the climb but we could only go half way because the steps ended there. Paul thought the way to the very top might have been via a main road but it was too hot to double back and we could see the top anyway. The view was impressive enough from where we were and we took a few pictures.

The halfway point had some dilapidated buildings that looked as if they had once been destined to form some kind of visitors’ centre but either the money or enthusiasm for it had waned and the idea had been abandoned.

We ambled slowly back down to the village and walked its length, taking lots of pictures of its remarkable waterside dwellings. All along the walkway, people came out or looked out to view the foreigners in their midst. It’s probably the nearest I’ll ever come to feeling like a VIP. One man insisted that Paul stood right in front of him on his porch while he shook his hand and asked the customary ‘where you from?’ I wished that the guide book had devoted some space to some information on the village rather than pages of lofty language on the waterfall.  Halfway along, the concrete path turned to a decidedly rickety wooden one, with areas of rotten wood and gaping holes. The thought of falling into the creature-laden and swampy mud below was terrifying enough to keep me looking down almost constantly. Most of the houses have fish cages outside and there were several chickens and roosters strutting around. Paul pointed out their sources of water and electricity, and they would use gas bottles for cooking. Rubbish is burned and we presumed that sewage is emptied straight into the sea, as there is no obvious plumbing.

It began to drizzle again as we retraced our steps back to the dinghy. As we pulled away, I wondered several things:  whether I was the first (and only) person from Swindon to set foot in that village, what the place had looked like 50 or a hundred years ago, and perhaps more importantly what it will look like in the future. Lots of pictures follow below in an attempt to capture the remote and thought-provoking beauty of Temburun.

Kathy

We left Pulau Patok, into a heavy tide and swell which slowed us down to a couple of knots. The forecast was hopeless, possibly a little wind but from the wrong direction, also there wasn’t anywhere obvious to take shelter from the swell on the next 220 miles of coast, other than a commercial harbour, which looked a bit grim. so I decided, perhaps rashly, to go direct to Miri, which is 180 NM as the crow flies, and would take about 36 hours if we could average 5 knots. As it turned out we didn’t, and took 44 hours. Just before we arrived, we got a weather forecast over the NavText that the severe thunderstorms to the north of us would continue until yesterday. I have no idea what the point of such a forecast is, in fact I shouldn’t call it a forecast at all, perhaps a hindsightcast would be more appropriate. However that did explain why we had light winds, but huge swells.
We sailed offshore, which gave us a more direct route, but also kept us away from the inshore fishermen in their small unlit boats. We would have two nights at sea, and it was only when I got the correct charts up on my plotter that I realised just how many oil and gas platforms there are here. I was fortunate that we would reach the first major block of them just as dawn arrived, it was the second night that was going to be a problem. We were low on fuel, so I took every opportunity to sail, even in such light winds. In fact I was really pleased at how well the boat sailed in just 5-10 knots of wind, I used the time to play with the sails and the rig to get the best performance. Slowly it’s all coming together.
There were lots of ships around, and a lot of them not lit correctly. The ones I hate the most are the tugs, sometimes they just have a small flashing light on the tow and the tug itself has a single white light.

Sometimes the tugs have AIS and so you know it’s a tug, other times you can just make out some lights and a shape on the radar. If you get in between the tow, you’re in big trouble, I hate to think what a mess it would make of our boat. The other thing is the tow, in this case above, a huge load of logs, is usually trying to go in a different direction to the tug, and the tug might be pointing in quite a different direction to what it is travelling, very confusing. At one point a fishing boat appeared behind me, this was my fault for not looking astern enough, but he would have been within 50ft, I shone a torch at him, and he turned on all his deck lights, killed the engine, then drifted, before quickly going around my stern and away. I’m not sure who was shocked the most!

I had a lot of notes about this area, and I re-read them again, and also found the admiralty guide had a section on this area, which cautioned against travelling here at night, unless you had a good clear full moon. I was expecting the moon to rise about 3AM, half moon, and hidden behind clouds. The main problem is well heads, underwater structures where oil is or had been extracted. There are a lot of disused well heads which apparently can come close to the surface and are not lit. A catamaran on the Sail Malaysia Rally hit one last year, fortunately no serious damage occurred. After a while I decided that most of the well heads would be within the designated fields, and I should be fine away from them. I was also worried that back home I got chased away from the Douglas Gas platform in the Irish sea as you are not allowed within 3nm of the rig, yet here the rigs were often only 4-5 nm apart, making that difficult. I later found out that 500m is the distance you have to keep away. As it turned out it all went quite smoothly, I dropped the mainsail about 6AM knowing sadly I wont be using that again for a few months. A squall came through just before dawn, and as the skies lightened, we approached Miri, where we planned to anchor at 7AM and contact the Marina for guidance in, and to wait for high water at 08:30. however the swell was so bad I decided I would prefer to motor round for an hour rather than anchor and be kicked around by the waves. Kathy and I had been doing 4 hour on /off watches, but not doing it properly and we were both tired now. Looking at the tide tables, I realised that as we only have one tide a day, the twelfths rule doesn’t apply, this rule is a way of working out how fast the tide comes in, and the upshot was we would have enough water to get in now, also big ships were ploughing into and out of the marina. So after a gap in the big ships, we shot in and grabbed a berth.  It felt odd, I tried the bow thruster before we came in, but it was running for a second, then making a weird noise, I had worried that the fouling from Santubong may have affected it, but on closer inspection, i.e. me hanging over the bow while Kathy powered it up, made me realise that the swell was lifting the bow thruster clear of the water, and it was whizzing around in the air, not good for it. Once in the marina we moored up, it went remarkably well, Kathy jumped ashore with a line, I stopped the boat and passed her the other lines and that was the end of a ten week trip from our last Marina in Johor Baru.
Now we have to get used to having an electric kettle, a toaster that doesn’t burn the toast, and all the water we want from the tap.

That’s us above in Miri, now we have ten days to do a lot of cleaning up and putting away before we come home. but for now we are off to explore the area a little before a long deep sleep.

Paul Collister

I decided last night to take the inland river route to our next destination, rather than going by sea. You can see the route below.Now this kind of sailing boat isn’t really meant to be going down rivers, for one, the rivers are usually very shallow in places restricting the boats movement, and makes sailing quite difficult if not impossible. The boat also has a deep keel, as deep as some quite big ships. But as the forecast was for no wind I thought it might be more interesting than following the coast. I checked the chart a lot, I didn’t like the navigation guidance in the admiralty publication, it stated that details wouldn’t be given as it should not be attempted without a pilot on board. However these guidelines are intended for bigger boats than me, I studied several charts and came to the conclusion that the one shallow bit at 1.5 metres would be ok if we hit it near high water which was 4.5 metres at 10:50 AM, Low water was only 1.5 mtrs so even at low water we should be ok. I also realised the currents in the river would be strong and had to factor that in, however as its neap tides right now, the tides would be at their weakest and so there wouldn’t be a better time to try. So off we went an hour late, and where straight into a 2-3 knot flood current racing us along at 7.5 knots, unfortunately, our little paddle wheel under the hull which tells me the boat speed through water, as apposed to the GPS which gives us boat speed relative to land, was all fouled up from Santubong and didn’t work.
I left Kathy on the helm to pop below and clean the paddle wheel. I really needed to be on top of the currents for this trip. The paddle wheel can be pulled back into the boat through its hole in the hull, this leaves a 2″ diameter hole in the hull a few feet below the waterline, so obviously the sea tries to come in and fill the boat up. My fancy paddle wheel fitting has a flap which closes as the wheel is removed, stopping a huge influx of water, sadly it had fouled up as well, so I got quite a soaking as the water gushed in. I have a plug that goes in, but it takes a few seconds to insert and tighten, eventually the wheel was cleaned, lots of barnacles were present, but it’s all working again.
We were going to turn North halfway along the river and exit by our destination, the island Pulau Patok, the timing meant that the tide should have turned and we would also get the ebb tide as we headed north. We met a few little fishing boats, a few bigger boats and a container ship on route. I wondered if the pilot on board was looking at us and tut tutting, I still didn’t know if the northbound passage was navigable at this point as it’s not a main shipping route, and had some seriously shallow bits on the chart.
Just after this ship passed we went around its stern and north, where we saw a few more boats, including a ferry visiting various jetties tucked into the shoreline. There was plenty of debris in the river.We had to keep a good lookout for these logs, this one reminded us f the ‘Statue of Liberty’, possible planet of the apes style. At our anchorage I can see where some of the tress come from, using my impromptu telephoto lens (binoculars) I took this picture You can see the roots completely exposed at low water, soon these trees will topple over, lets hope not tonight.

What I hadn’t bargained on was the wind picking up from the North, the grib files where hinting at 5 knots, maybe going to 10 overnight, but we found ourselves with 15 knots from the north, fighting a 2 knot current going out. This creates a condition sailors know as wind against tide, with the two fighting each other, this causes the waves to rise up quite steep and close together, this slowed our passage through the water down, but the current pushed us along nicely all the same. My main problem was that our destination is protected from every direction except the north, when we arrived there was little shelter to be had, and I envisaged a rocky night, however the wind just died down, and as I write this it’s a light breeze, the tide is turning now so the sea should calm down a lot. One problem we always have is that as the tide turns, we usually have 30 minutes to an hour where we are side on to the swell and that’s usually makes the boat roll a lot.

For anyone interested, I have put some pictures of our anchorage from Monday, on the charts you can see the route we planned. There are several buoys to guide us into the deeper water path, but half of these were missing, in one case literally half the buoy was missing, just the base in the water was left.

This is what the same place looks like from space

And heres a bing image I used in openCPN that really shows the sandbanks at the entrance to the river And this is what it looks like from the anchorage, looking west back to the tip we hid behind to protect us fro the westerlies

Paul Collister