Chagos to Seychelles

Mahé, Seychelles

1 July

📍 Mahé · 004°38.241′S, 055°28.332′E · Mahé, Seychelles

We expected high waves, howling winds, squalls and heavy swells. Instead, after six days, 16 hours, and 45 minutes of near-perfect sailing conditions, we arrived unbattered and unbruised at anchorage number 13, Mahé Harbour, Seychelles. The only thing we consistently saw along the way was Allora’s AIS signal, which slowly tracked past us over a few days. They, unlike us, were going like the clappers. Also, unlike us, they had an adventure along the way, helping out a single-handed rower. I’ve linked Aaron’s page later in this post.

We’d heard from other cruisers that the officials arrive almost as quickly as you can drop your anchor chain. In our case, it took them approximately six hours to turn up, because their boat had broken down. Still, we used the time wisely. After tidying the boat up, we fell asleep.

It’s hard not to see that boat coming. The photo below probably doesn’t do it justice, but it was comedically large – especially given that they only discharged four people from it. There would have been one more, but she bottled it and decided to stay on the pilot boat. Then it was the usual flurry of paperwork and confusing questions. Fortunately, one of the officials figured out I had a sleep-deprived IQ of around 10 because I looked like a moron, and he helped me fill out the papers downstairs. My contribution was to thump the paperwork with our boat stamp and squiggle something resembling my signature.

After they went, so did we. We’ve lifted the anchor and motored to Eden Anchorage, a narrow-ish waterway sandwiched between Eden Island and the mainland offering fantastic protection from the prevailing south and south-east winds.

Not only that, it has a local shop, a Spar, so we could restock our beer supplies, which had dwindled to nothing while we were in Chagos. We didn’t stock up on too much though. I think the location gives Spar cause to consider they are more Harrods than Aldi.

Eden Island was only a watery blink in the planners’ eyeballs before 2010. It has now emerged from the sea as 56 hectares of reclaimed and heavily developed land, bolted onto the mainland by a 300-metre bridge. It has luxury residences with private moorings, a deep-water marina for less tight-wadded sailors than us (there’s no way we are paying $100 per night when we can anchor for nowt). There are private beaches and a shopping mall, and to cap it all, Below Deck Down Under used it as a season backdrop. What can I say? It does have a bar with happy hour until 7 pm though.

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Clearing in part two

2 July

Despite representatives from all of the official bodies clambering onto the boat to clear us in, we still had to visit each of their offices to complete the process. Simple, it was not.

After parking our dinghy at Seychelles Yacht Club (around 7 minutes by going like the clappers), we turned left onto the street, and sweated towards the security gate at the docks to start the clearance process. Along the way, we checked with various official-looking people to make sure we were heading in the right direction.

Checked, scanned, and dressed up in orange high-vis vests, one of the senior security team, who had an unfortunate limp, led us very slowly down the long walkway to the harbormaster’s office. Once we’d climbed the stairs to see the harbour master (the injured official stayed at ground level), we were told to go back down again and out through the security gate, turn right from where we came, to find the office that would extract cash from our wallets to get the receipt needed to start the check-in process.

Back to the security gate, high-viz jackets off, phones out (well, one phone, mine was knackered), bags on the table.

We managed to find the fiscal extraction office at one of the places we had been steered away from when we asked if it was the right place to go. Fortunately, despite it being lunchtime, they were tremendously helpful and let us stump up our 200 SCR for the receipt needed to unblock the process. Then it was back to the security gate, high-vis vests back on, over to the Immigration Office, then the Harbour Master’s Office, then Customs, and that was it. Quest complete. Back to the security gate, high-vis vests off, and away we went to a restaurant across the road.

And, because this is such a faff, this seems a good time to issue a note of caution to our fellow cruisers: don’t ask the officials to take off their shoes when they are on your boat. The length of your visa seems proportional to the politeness you exhibit during the initial clearance process. We were okay. We got the full three months without question. One cruiser who asked the officials to remove their shoes and lectured them on boat-entry etiquette got two weeks. That took some unravelling. So, be nice. Clearing in is difficult enough.

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All Smiles

5 July

The single-handed rower I mentioned arrived in port on 5th July with the assistance of a tow. I guess prudence is the best form of valour as feisty weather was on its way. Aaron’s website can be found here: Adventure Aaron

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Farewell to the Tadds

7 July

Thanks to Sarah of the Tadds, together with the Allorians, we had dinner with the Tadds before they headed off west towards Mayotte. It was a good evening. No violence from any party. No drinks thrown over anyone (see an earlier post). The company was good, and the food at the Boardwalk restaurant was fine.

And shortly after that, the anchorage started to thin out as more boats left to continue their travels west. The next time we see them should be either in Madagascar or South Africa. We, on the other hand, are staying put for a while.