Preparing for the Indian Ocean

Pre-Departure Checks

The trip across the Indian Ocean will take months. Not because it is the longest passage we have undertaken, it’s because a) we have come to the conclusion that we like to take our time, so we are sailing the north to south route, and b) we are at the beck and call of the monsoon season and can’t just head all the way to South Africa.

Prudence being the better part of valour – in other words, we didn’t want any bits dropping off, or any medical emergencies on the way to South Africa, we thought it best to get medically checked out.

Before that, we extended our visas – an easy process consisting of handing over forms and money to the officials at an immigration office at Bluetree shopping centre. In return for cash, we received an extra 30-day stay. That was enough time to give us flexibility on when to depart. The weather has not been cooperative recently.

Back to the medical. When I first heard the term digital exam of the prostate, I thought that must be some really fancy technology, a kind of advanced digital scan that can see what’s happening – like a 3D pregnancy scan but without the foetus or future expense.

I was quickly disabused of that view by the burly South African doctor at the Hampshire Clinic, who proceeded to demonstrate that a digital scan consists of plunging a lubricated sausage finger into your bum to have a rummage around. “Normal and smooth,” he proudly declared as I dabbed my eyes with a tissue.

The next year, I asked for a woman. Slimmer fingers and a more gentle approach, I thought. When I met her, she was sitting behind the desk in the consulting room, and the first thing that crossed my mind was loosehead or tighthead, followed by I wonder what team she plays for. Then I glanced at her hands and almost shed a tear in advance of the examination. If the South African’s fingers were breakfast bangers, hers were uncoiled Cumberland rings.

You may conclude from this preamble that I am not a fan of receiving a ‘digital examination.” But, with a few thousand miles to go before we reach anywhere with good medical facilities, I thought it prudent to knuckle down and pucker up.

This time, I set no expectations. I could have assumed that, because we are in Thailand, it is a near certainty I’d get someone of delicate build. But with my luck, there was an equal certainty of getting someone with fingers in the charcuterie family, and it’d only end in tears.

Fortunately, and probably because he was around 10 years old, the doctor’s digits were normally sized, and after the exam, he gave me a wonderful back-handed compliment (apologies in advance for the TMI, but this whole piece has probably been way too much): “Your prostate is smooth, no lumps.” Later followed by, “Prostate problems are very common in the elderly.” Tosser.

With all the other examination results fine for both of us, we moved on to the next stage: provisioning and clearing out. For that, we needed to head towards Chalong.

I picked up our newly serviced alternators from AME and installed the previously broken one, which now works like a champ. The other is in the spares section, which probably takes up 20% of our overall storage capacity, but, as they say, better safe than snivelling about it.

Sinking Ship

On the way down the west coast of Phuket, we heard a ship trying to contact Phuket Port Control. I’ll give him full marks for perseverance, but he never received a reply. We didn’t think much of it. A couple of hours later, however, the same ship broadcast a DSC distress call followed by a mayday, which eventually got the attention of Bangkok radio. The ship was sinking.

The Sealloyd Arc was en route to Bangladesh from Port Klang when it capsized. All the crew were safely taken off the boat before it sank, but its 297 containers are either sitting at the bottom of the briny with the ship (around 2 miles from Nai Harn) or bobbing just below the surface somewhere. The authorities haven’t yet determined the cause of the sinking.

By the time we got to Nai Harn late in the afternoon, the crew were off, and the ship was tilting at a jaunty angle. By the morning, it had disappeared.

The remarkable thing was the lack of a prompt response. Local press state that a fishing vessel came to assist the Sealloyd Arc. Some posts say it was the Navy. Some say both. Whoever it was, with lots of local boats zooming up, down, and across that area all the time, someone could have put their hand up sooner. Although, to be fair, the lack of radio response and coordination didn’t help. We were around 3 hours away, up north, but we were almost at Nai Harn before the rescue was complete.

Afterwards, the Navy did post a patrol boat; they also installed markers and an AIS transponder at the wreck site, and later published notams on the likely location of any drifting containers.

And we were fortunate enough to see a cicada for the first time. We have been hearing these for years, but had never seen one. For some reason, this one flew out to Jamala and attached himself to our genoa sheet, where he stayed until the evening cicada chorus started again.

Filling up with food and fuel

From Nai Harn, we sailed around the corner to Chalong, then took a Grab car to Makro to stock up on food for our Indian Ocean trip. With round one of our provisioning fest complete, we headed up to Ao Po Marina via Ko Yao Yai to get fuel, timing our arrival based on two factors:

1. Tides because the current seems to rip through the marina at any time other than slack water. 
2. Tourist boats being nowhere near the marina, because early morning and late afternoon it’s elbows out to get fuel.

Arriving at 2 pm worked for us. There was a space at the dock, no current worth mentioning, and helpful line handlers to tie Jamala to the pontoon. After filling up with diesel and petrol, one of the staff drove me to the marina office in a golf buggy to pay. Fancy.

And the reason we didn’t go to the fuel dock at Chalong may be obvious from the photograph below.

Broken Bone Bay

Arriving back at Broken Bone Bay, we had surprise visitors. Mike and Maam, our pontoon buddies and friends from Riverside Drive Marina in New Zealand, made a detour to see us. I should be clear that the location is actually Chalong Bay near Chana Beach, but that’s a bit of a mouthful. So, given that it seems standard practice for some sailors to rename places with a high degree of inanity, we put an equal amount of thought into it and named it after Maria’s broken wrist – this is where it happened after all.

The four of us caught up over an early dinner at a small restaurant in a small town near the beach, followed by sundowners at the beach at ‘At The Beach’.

Mike and Maam had to leave the next day to see family in Bangkok. We had to do more shopping, last-minute prep and clearance.

The immediate last-minute prep involved changing the oil in the engine and gearbox (there’s an oil disposal station on Chalong pier), then buying new oil for the next two oil changes. We headed off to a local Makro for fresh food shopping, then to a chandler for rope for cruising friends who are already on their way to the Maldives, then to a hardware store to buy a welding set and bench grinder for our agent in the Maldives, and a bucket for us, as you do.

As an aside, on the way to one of the hardware stores, we came across this mini garden centre, which looked every bit like the ones at home. 

With all that complete, we filled out the clearance forms online, had a farewell lunch with Tim and Barb onboard La Boheme, who had parked behind us at Chalong, and then we cleared out the next day. The boat was ready, we were ready, and the weather was looking better than at any time over the last month.

The morning after clearance we headed back to Nai Harn to do the final tweaks for our passage, then on Monday 9th March we were on our way south – in the wrong direction – but we wanted to stay outside the area of concern marked out by the authorities, within which there’s a possibility of encountering one of the many containers lost overboard from the Sealloyd Arc. If we did hit a container while inside that area, I’m sure our insurers might raise an eyebrow, but not a wedge of cash. After about 14 fruitless miles, we could then turn west towards the Maldives.