Day One

The forecast looked promising. Out of all the days we could have chosen to leave for the Maldives, Monday 9th March promised the most sailing and the least motoring (less than 2 hours of it to be nearly precise). We even had a fresh breeze to blast us southward past the southernmost perimeter of the floating-container-danger-area.

Turning right clear of the islands and allegedly clear of any underwater metallic hazards, the wind dropped in speed from fresh to just a breeze and then to a zephyr. But we had plenty of current to move us on as we edged our way west, going just as fast with or without sails. We tried poles up to capture whatever breeze there was. Genoa on the left worked for a while, until it didn’t. Then Genoa poled out to the right, worked for a while until the wind veered to 50 degrees off the port bow. So it was poles down and motor on, thinking that’s OK – there’s only two hours of this motoring malarkey for this whole trip. PredictWind said so.

Later that evening, I had to ask a cargo ship to shift out of our way. We were back sailing by then. He couldn’t understand my request that he turn to port. So he asked, “Do you want me to get out of your way?” Go on then. Priceless.

We had very clear skies on our first night. Possibly the clearest we have seen. And very strange current – possibly the weirdest.

The wind died early in the morning, so we were back to motoring again. We weren’t worried, though, according to the forecast, the wind was supposed to kick in early on Tuesday morning.

Against all this fickle wind nonsense, the good news was that we received an email about our application to go to Chagos. We now have our permit.

Day Two

Made good progress at around 5-6 knots, poled out to starboard. And we have company. There’s another boat behind us, Bliss, a catamaran – but we seem to be going faster than them, at least for now. It won’t last.

Day Three

We had to motor for a few hours – no wind – but on the plus side, we used that spare energy from the now-working alternator to make some water, and some ice. It would appear that it’s a bit warm out towards the Indian Ocean.

Before setting off from Thailand, we did two things with comms:

1. Switched on Starlink Ocean Mode, which means that we can get data while far from land
2. Stumped up the cash for a Garmin InReach Premium Plan so that we always have comms, even if things go boobs up.

Because we switched all devices to low-data mode, we were able to keep Starlink on all the time without worrying too much about a multi-thousand-pound bill (I kept an eye on it, though). And because it was on, Maria was able to catch a phone call from Jeanne Socrates, another of our pontoon buddies and friends from New Zealand. Jeanne has already circumnavigated four times, as we are leisurely trying to complete our first. She is still going strong in her 80’s, so there is hope for us laggards yet. She is currently on her boat somewhere in South Australia.

By the end of the day, we were firmly out of the Andaman Sea and in the Indian Ocean. And we were back sailing between 4.5 and 6.2 knots again.

Day Four

A day of light winds and relaxation. Slow progress, between 3.5 and 6 knots, but always in the right direction.

During the night, I had to call the tanker Front Eira to ask about his intentions. He was 5 miles behind us, and his CPA (closest point of approach) was just a few metres. So I woke him up by making a DSC call (just in case), then called him on channel 16. He said he could see us and would alter course to starboard, which he did, passing 1 mile away. It’s a whopper that ship – around 336 metres or 21 Jamalas long.

Later on, I decided to move a few degrees to starboard. All those big feckers seem to be on the same route as us.

Day Five

Friday the 13th, so something had to go wrong. I noticed a bit of a funk coming from the aft cabin and found that the rudder post was weeping slightly, causing some water ingress. It was easily fixed by tightening up the rudder post nut. There was plenty left on it because I recently replaced the packing material.

It had been as dry as a bone until tested with a following sea. It was my fault; I should have seen that coming and tweaked it earlier.

But the good part of the day was that Maria made some banana bread from the few overripe bananas we had left.

Day Six

The bad news for today was that the wind died. The good news was that we were able to put the ballooner up. It didn’t last, though. The wind completely collapsed, so it was sails in and motor on at 6 knots.

By this stage, we were losing faith in this weather forecast.

Because the motor was on, we made more water. And because we have plenty of water, I washed the bedroom carpet. It had absorbed the pong from the water coming in from the rudder post and smelled like a crime scene. Fortunately, the heat was so intense that the carpet was almost dry by the end of the day and tinder-dry the next.

Day Seven

An uneventful night, but hats off to the CMA CGM Libra container ship. He gave us a huge gap when he overtook us, then moved back on course: no stress and no need to call. I was very impressed.

Later in the day, we had to take the ballooner down. The wind became shiftier than a bloke with an armful of cheap Rolexes.

Maria made more banana cake.

Day Eight

We had a flying fish land smack bang in the cockpit. That was quite the achievement for a small fish. After a minute or so of flapping around, I was able to grab it and return it to the briny, minus a few scales. Those fish have beautiful colours. It was great to see one alive for a change rather than lifeless somewhere on the deck.

The traffic was getting a bit too dense as we got closer to Sri Lanka, so we crossed to the south side of the flow so we wouldn’t have to contend with it later.

Day Nine

Some Sri Lankan fishermen came over to visit us in the morning on their spectacularly colourful boat. They wanted to trade for beer / wine / fags.

After a bit of back-and-forth, we agreed to swap their chocolate biscuits and chocolate drinks for a bottle of wine. We could, of course, have had fish, but Maria, for some reason only known to herself, doesn’t like fish. And, yes, I know it’s a lopsided deal, but it was worth it for the entertainment.

Later, more fishermen in their equally colourful boats came over too. But just to say hello.

In the afternoon, we caught something around the prop when we were motoring again. It was obvious what had happened. It was also obvious that it was a big lump of something. My usual technique of throwing the prop in reverse, then forward again to fling off any detritus, did not help.

So, I had to go in and get it off.

One of the best things we have bought for the boat is an extension hose for the scuba gear. Now, I can leave the scuba bottle on the boat and throw myself in without a large lump of aluminium in my back. The hose is 15 metres long, so it’s more than enough, and I can grab the hose and the second stage just before going under the boat.

The water is an incredible deep blue here. It’s surprisingly warm and, despite all the crap in the water, it is remarkably clear. You can certainly see things coming. While I was down there, a fishing pole passed by, more fishing nets, fishing line, a crisp packet, three drinks cartons and a bin liner. As well as all that, rushing by in the current were unidentifiable small pieces of plastic. It’s a crying shame to see this. And you cannot – as some might want you to believe – blame the Indonesians. It is a worldwide problem caused by excessive consumption.

This is what was around the prop. The photo of the net looks like we have shaved the hair off a 1970’s version of Kevin Keegan.

Days Ten to Twelve

No wind. Nothing. Not even the faintest hint of a breeze. And because there is no wind, the temperature inside the boat rose to over 41 degrees C. We had to switch on the aircon for some respite.

I think we can safely assume that the weather forecasters have collectively buggered this one up. Even the 3-day forecasts are widely out of whack.

And, another bit of bad news is that Maria’s jelly shoes have shuffled off the mortal coil. She bought them in 2022 in Bora Bora to replace a pair of Croc’s water shoes that she lost in Maupiti. They might seem like a relic from the 70’s and 80s in the UK, but all the local fishermen in French Polynesian wear them. They are tough, comfortable, and remarkably popular, and Maria wore them most days.

Unfortunately, they have now given way to the sea and salt, with the buckle and strap being the victim.

Day Thirteen

We continue to motor on with 200 miles to go.

Earlier this afternoon, we spotted a nearby Iranian tanker that was not transmitting AIS. I don’t blame them for that. The likely multinational crew probably believe they are sitting ducks.

Clothes washing today. We are generating plenty of power as we motor along, and with the temperature over 40 degrees C, it’s a great drying day.

Day Fourteen

We should have been sipping virgin cocktails on a beach in the Maldives two days ago, but we are still motoring towards our destination – Uligan, to the north of the Maldives. Still, we both agree that we would rather have it this way than a sail full of squalls.

The last and only time we came to the Maldives was in 2009, for my 50th birthday. Getting to the Maldives, then, was simple: a plane from London and a seaplane from Male to a private resort, where we flopped around and relaxed for 10 days. That was expensive but lovely.

This trip isn’t going to be cheap, either, by the time we have filled up again with diesel. We have been checking the fuel tank dipstick each day to make sure we have enough to get there. We will likely need to buy 500 litres when we arrive. That’s going to hurt with the current wartime prices. They are up by 60%, apparently. The good news, though, is that our agent has assured us we can get shafted on the price. He can get us the fuel. Otherwise, that would have presented a real problem for us.

Day Fifteen

Ironically, the wind arrived on the day we were about to arrive. At least we were able to save fuel, but we had to manage our arrival time. I wanted to arrive with the sun well up in the sky to see if there were any reefs in the way of a safe arrival. Fortunately, more through good luck rather than good judgement, we arrived at the anchorage at Uligan at 1000.

At 1300, the officials arrived, and by 1500, Asad, our agent, sent us our cruising permit for the Maldives.

It wasn’t the speediest of passages, but it was the only time we had crossed an ocean without any strong winds or squalls. That said, it’s the only time we have crossed an ocean with so little wind.

But, as they say, better safe than battered.