Today is April Fool's Day. Given that we've still been bashing through head seas, and it's cold and wet, nothing could be more apt. After eating virtually nothing yesterday, today I've been having a few more nibbles, as well as a tuna fish lunch.
By midday the wind has dropped by 10 knots, and we've managed to increase our speed to around 15 knots, so making much better progress than we were. Spirit of Cardiff weatherman Bertie reckons we're through the worst of it, and if we head further west into the Atlantic, we'll pick up a northerly which will be with us for the rest of the day.
So Alan reckons about Tuesday lunchtime for Spain. As my eyes raise in eager anticipation of sunshine and warmth, he adds "northern Spain".
Today more than yesterday has been very much a day for starting to get used to daily life onboard. Even the old hands haven't been together on the boat since last year's Atlantic crossing, so it's about getting used to it all over again.
As for me, the most land-lubberly of all the crew members, that manifests itself in the indelicate problems of trying to go to the toilet when something in your mind is telling your bladder it's bad form to try and hit a moving target from a moving platform. Oh for a loo that's firmly nailed to the ground!.
But as the wind comes round and Spirit of Cardiff picks up speed - up to 20 knots - we end the day roughly halfway across the Bay of Biscay. What's more, the temperature's definitely creeping upwards, so it may soon be time to bring out the shorts!
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Report transmitted by Iridium satellite network
The last 24 hours has seen conditions that would make going ten rounds with Mike Tyson seem a much safer option. We've had big head seas with everybody getting battered and bruised to some extent. My personal contribution to the injury catalogue is a bruised head where I nutted the cabin wall several times.
But true to our weather forecaster's form, the wind did turn, and for a while we had large rolling beam sea, big Atlantic rollers with several thousand miles of momentum behind them. And then gradually the seas came round behind us.
Following seas are always exciting. The boat seems to take forever to claw its way to the top of a wave, as the crest tries to race ahead of us. Then there's a moment as the boat reaches the top of the wave, the bow lifts up into the air, and for several seconds it wallows around aimlessly. Then the bow slams down into the water, and something akin to a runaway train ride begins as we surf down the wave.
It was in these conditions somewhere north of Lisbon that the autopilot decided to pack up, emitting a loud beeping to inform us it was no longer in control. Not the kind of thing you can repair on the move, we're now driving the boat manually, and have arranged to have a new unit flown out to Gibraltar tomorrow.
But that's not the end of the drama. During mid morning, in continuing heavy following seas, Alan managed to stuff the bow of the boat into a large wave. In the normal run of things, the effect would simply be a spectacular cascade of spray on either side of the boat.
In this particular instance it was a double whammy. The first wave was immediately followed by a second, which hit with an enormous crash. For a second, we all thought the screen had gone completely, and that we were about to get half a ton of seawater in our laps.
Fortunately it held, but both front windscreens are shattered, held together by the layer of plastic laminate which saved us. Needless to say, we're taking it easily to ensure we don't get any more waves over the windscreen, and we're heading into Lagos for some more fuel. We will make it into Gibraltar tonight, and the boat will need a little work on it before we head off on the record run on Sunday. But that's what being "Driven by the Challenge" is all about.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
The one thing about being at sea for several days is that you miss the news. Little did we realise that the appalling weather which hammered us was simply the tail end of storms far more serious elsewhere in the eastern Atlantic. And whilst we'd left Lagos thinking we could make it to Gibraltar without too much bother, the weather had yet another twist in the tail.
Once again we found ourselves in diabolical following seas - in the normal run of things, the kind of conditions we look for. But here, whipped up by 25 knot winds, the waves were short and steep. The result, continuing to drive the boat manually after the autopilot had failed, was that we stuffed the bow of the boat several more times into large waves. The spectacle of watching the huge cascades of spray which normally accompanies such an event was replaced by acute anxiety. With every large wave, the cracks in our shattered windscreens were getting bigger.
Water was jetting in and running over the instrument panel. At one point we had no fewer than four pieces of equipment emitting loud beeping noises to indicate they were malfunctioning. Fortunately I have a handheld GPS receiver which I use to record positions as part of our submission to the Royal Yachting Association to substantiate our records, so we hastily set a course for Cadiz as an emergency bail-out. Luckily for us, as the sun went down, so the wind blew down. We decided to carry on for Gibraltar, taking turns to drive through the night. It was with a good deal of relief that we arrived at Sheppards Marina in Gibraltar, to be met by Wayne Warwick, our local contact.
The initial reaction of everyone that saw the boat in its sorry state, both windscreens shattered and bowed inwards, is that we were lucky to survive such a pasting. Certainly we feel that as 1200 mile passages go, it's the toughest we've ever done. A real baptism of fire for new boy Alan Carter.
Mind you, stories can sometimes become somewhat distorted. Skipper Alan Priddy was surprised and amused to receive a text message saying "just heard you've been struck by lightning. Hope you're all OK!"
With repairs under way, we had time to attend a reception thrown for us in the City Hall by the Mayor of Gibraltar, Judge John Alcantara, who told us that he is in fact visiting Cardiff next week. Alan Priddy presented him with a plaque and letter of greeting from Cardiff, and he reciprocated with a Gibraltar plaque.
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Cardiff - Gibraltar
Time of leg: 3 days 17 hours 23 minutes
Distance covered: 1,200 nautical miles
Average speed: 13.4 knots
Fuel consumed: 2,244 litres
Average fuel consumption: 1.87 litres / nautical mile
Next stop: Malta
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Report transmitted by Iridium satellite network
The wind whistles through the masts in the marina, and the sky is heavy and grey. Not a good day to set off on a world record attempt, but for Alan Priddy and the rest of the crew of the Spirit of Cardiff, it's THE day, whatever the weather.
With smashed windscreens repaired, broken autopilot replaced, and everything prepared for the first leg of the voyage, we set off from Sheppards Marina, and make our way to the harbour entrance. Waiting there is Gibraltar's Customs launch, with official timer Wayne Warwick, along with a pilot vessel for the media.
We pass the harbour entrance at just a few seconds past midday local time (1000 GMT), starting off on an epic voyage which will hopefully see us arriving back in Gibraltar in substantially less than the 74 days 20 hours 58 minutes taken by the Cable and Wireless Adventurer in 1998.
Two hours later and we're in the thick of a storm, reduced to 7 knots. Worse still is the fact that the replacement autopilot has blown, so once again we're back to driving the boat manually. We can do it, but it demands a lot more concentration.
Suddenly a cargo ship appears from behind us. He's supposed to have given us a wide berth, but he cuts us up as he comes past. At least we decide to put him to some good use as he's heading roughly in the direction of Algiers. We trail him east for a while before deciding he's actually heading further north than we'd like.
The one consolation we have is that we know that the worst of the weather experienced by Cable and Wireless Adventurer was in the Mediterranean. It'll be calm seas and sunshine after we get to Suez, and boy, are we looking forward to it.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
What a difference a day makes. After yesterday's horrendous squalls and heavy seas, the sun has showed its face, and the seas have calmed considerably - and not before time.
It was about 3 o'clock in the morning when Steve Lloyd and I were on watch, with Steve at the helm trying to maintain a course roughly east. Driving manually through heavy seas is not only tiring, it's extremely difficult trying to keep the right course. Every now and then we found we were heading back to Gibraltar, the boat literally turned through 180 degrees.
The gears in the autopilot simply proved not up to the task, the teeth around the cogs stripped off. To do that to a brand new autopilot straight out of the box within hours suggests something's a little wrong, particularly as it's the second we've trashed in the space of a few days. We're hoping to get replacement gears made from something tougher, but it may not be until we arrive in Jeddah that we can get them installed.
In the meantime, we're taking the opportunity to enjoy our first glimpse of real sunshine. New boy Alan Carter, sporting a ferociously short haircut from Gibraltar, is proving he's not only a dab-hand with a video camera, but the chopping board as well. Lunch is tuna with crispy green salad and tomatoes, served in dog bowls. Perfect when the sea's a little ruff! But whilst not particularly elegant, they're functional none the less.
Another vital acquisition from Gibraltar is a cassette radio player. At last, with a number of tapes donated by some of our loyal supporters, life on board is taking on a rather less stressful tone. Yup, we're even starting to enjoy it!
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
As we move further east, the weather is somewhat inclement once more. More of a contrast with yesterday's sunshine, and nowhere near as bad as Sunday's weather. We've picked up enough wind to produce waves big enough to generate great curtains of spray when we collide with them.
Even so, we're making around 20 knots, and as we turn the corner around Tunisia, we're hopeful that we'll make even better progress. Even so, as at 8am GMT, with 300 miles to go to Malta, it looks as though it will be around midnight when we arrive, some hours behind what we were hoping for.
The only occasional excitement this morning is that of avoiding lobster pot floats. Getting tangled up with floats and the line which attaches them to the lobster pot below is not what we want at all, as it could damage our prop. But instead of brightly coloured purpose-made floats that are easy to spot, the ones off the Tunisian coast are black plastic oil containers - and they don't exactly stand out against a murky sea.
Out at sea, particularly when the weather's grey, it's very easy to become lost in your own thoughts. The one thing we've all been heartened by is the huge number of messages of support coming into the Spirit of Cardiff visitor centre. We don't get to see them all individually, but the sentiments of many are conveyed to us each day when we check in with base. We're very grateful for every one of those messages, and indeed the financial support through our "Buy a Mile" scheme.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
Spirit of Cardiff has been disabled whilst approaching Valetta Harbour in Malta. The round the world powerboat was on its way in to finish the first leg of its round the world voyage from Gibraltar in darkness Tuesday evening when the boat ran into an uncharted and unlit fish farm.
The boat ran straight over the boom which encircles the fish farm, in the process pulling the outdrive away from the back of the boat. The crew tried to extricate themselves from the situation by fitting their spare outboard engine, but it didn't have sufficient power to drive the hull over the boom, which now encircled the Spirit.
Grand Harbour Marina, Spirit's Maltese hosts, came to the rescue with their launch to pull the boat free from the fish farm. The crew are all safe.
"It's disgusting", commented Spirit of Cardiff skipper Alan Priddy. "Our charts are up to date within the last three weeks, and the fish farms are not marked. They're a danger to shipping."
In the meantime, the crew are assessing the situation with a view to repairing the boat before they carry on. Air Malta have offered to fly a new outdrive out from the UK, which means that it may be possible to repair the boat and continue the round the world challenge in the next two days.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Report transmitted by Iridium satellite network
OK, so how do you make a Maltese cross? Well, you could trash his fish farm, for a start. In fact, we've had nothing but kindness from everyone in Malta, all doing their best to help us get on our way again. Even the man from the fish farm, who is hoping to present us with a bill today for the damage to his fish farm, couldn't have been more friendly.
But we also learned from others that the fish farms in St Paul's Bay are a subject of local controversy, not least for the fact that they're poorly marked, and other vessels have also tangled with them. So maybe we'll be presenting a bill for our extra costs involved in repairing the boat and stopping over in Malta for two days, and see which is the bigger.
The spare parts from Yamaha arrived first thing this morning, so Alan and Steve have been beavering away to get them all fitted, and the engine back in. It will all be fixed by midday. Then the only problem is the weather. A storm is moving in which would give us 35 knot head winds.
"It'd be pointless setting out in that", says Alan. "We'd just get hurt, and waste a lot of fuel getting nowhere". So the plan is to lie over in Valletta another night and depart on Friday, when the wind will have eased.
In the meantime, we may finish the Gibraltar to Valletta leg of the trip today. Provided we go back to the fish farm and then motor back into Valletta under our own power, that leg can be timed off. Not the fastest port to port record for the mileage, but a record none the less.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
Spirit of Cardiff is fully repaired and in the water in Valletta Harbour.
With high winds continuing for the rest of the day, skipper Alan Priddy has elected to remain in Malta another night, completing the Gibraltar to Malta leg officially on Friday morning.
Once the high winds have passed, the crew have had a good weather forecast for the next 5 days. That should see us through Suez and on our way to Jeddah, during which we hope to make up some of their lost time.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
It has to be one of the most magnificent firework displays ever. Except this is Mother Nature at her best, a stunningly beautiful electrical storm with great bolts of lightning arcing across the night sky.
By the morning, the wind is still blowing at around 30 knots, making a Friday departure an impossibility. It's unusually bad weather for this time of year in Malta, and everyone we speak to can't remember the last time it was this bad for so long.
Having consulted his weather router, Alan Priddy decides that the earliest we can get away will be Saturday morning. We'll be finishing the Gibraltar leg first, from the infamous fish farm in St Paul's Bay to Valletta Harbour breakwater, and then we'll be timed out on the run to Port Said almost immediately.
Holding the stopwatch will be Grand Harbour Marina's Tony Demajo, in a RIB driven by former powerboat champion Eric Braithwaite.
In the meantime, Spirit of Cardiff skipper Alan Priddy presented Tony with a plaque and letter of greeting from Cardiff.
"We stayed here a lot longer than we expected", said Alan. "Getting the boat repaired in record time has involved bending a lot of rules. We're very grateful for all the help we've received".
Misadventure and recovery - a diary
Tuesday 9th April
2300 local - We make contact with our hosts at Grand Harbour marina for final approach information.
2305 - Spirit of Cardiff crashes through unlit, uncharted tuna fish farm boom on the approach to Valletta harbour. Crew shocked but unhurt.
2330 - We advise David Pougher of Yamaha Motor Co. of an urgent request for an intermediate drive unit.
Wednesday 10th April
0400 - Spirit of Cardiff towed into Grand Harbour Marina. Crew have already wished Alan Carter a happy birthday.
0830 - Boat lifted from water for inspection.
0845 - Confirmed intermediate drive available for immediate despatch.
0850 - Peters and May shipping agents rush to Essex to collect and deliver Yamaha drive unit to Air Malta at Heathrow.
1030 - Engine and damaged drive unit removed from boat.
1800 - Replacement drive unit arrives in Malta.
2200 - Crew off to bed after a few beers.
Thursday 11th April
0730 - Unit delivered to Grand Harbour Marina
1030 - Boat ready for launching.
Is that a world record?
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
We never planned to stay this long, but if we had to choose anywhere for an enforced stay to sort out problems, we couldn't have picked anywhere better than Malta. Everyone here has been incredibly kind and helpful.
Our last night in Valletta sees us given temporary membership of the Casino di Venezia - where we should have arrived on Tuesday night for a reception with a hundred people - and a superb meal on the house. A splendid end to what is hopefully the longest refuelling stop of Spirit's round the world voyage.
At 8am local we head out to the infamous fish farms in St Paul's Bay, accompanied by Eric Braithwaite's RIB "Just for Fun".
"I don't feel too comfortable here", Alan advises him on the radio. "This is as close as I get". The damaged railing around the top of the boom is clearly visible. Then we turn back to Valletta Harbour breakwater, to be timed in at 0914 local, 0714 GMT. So that's the end of the Gibraltar to Malta leg, 1000 miles in a mere 5 days 21 hours 14 minutes, average speed 7 knots!
We wave goodbye to everyone on the "Just for Fun" and set off out to sea straight away. Just a few miles offshore we have a five minute maintenance stop. The engine doesn't sound quite right, and Alan decides to change the fuel filter. Three days of inactivity has seen water settle in it and turn the filter element mushy, so the engine was straining to suck the fuel through.
The passage to Egypt and Port Said is around 900 miles, and we're making good progress. We've had a reasonably good weather forecast, but we know there's another depression on its way.
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Gibraltar - Malta
Time of leg: 5 days 21 hours 14 minutes
Distance covered: 1,010 nautical miles
Average speed: 7.16 knots
Fuel consumed: 2,222 litres
Average fuel consumption: 2.2 litres / nautical mile
Next stop: Port Said
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
At 0714 GMT Sunday, 24 hours after setting off from Malta, and we've covered 422 nautical miles, with just over 500 to go for Port Said. This is looking pretty good. The speed has crept upwards steadily, now over 20 knots on an oil-smooth sea which looks as though it has enough surface tension to walk on. So we could knock off this last bit by this time tomorrow, provided the weather holds out, of course. There's still another depression lurking out there somewhere.
And then we'll be in the Suez Canal. That's going to be a highlight which we're all looking forward to. In the meantime, this morning we're somewhere north of Libya, well outside any shipping lanes, with not a single ship spotted since last night.
The boat has definitely lost some of its lustre in the last 24 hours. Now caked in salt from the sea, and sand blown over from the Sahara, she looks as though she's been gathering dust for several years in a disused garage.
But whilst the boat might be looking a little grubby, the same can't be said for the crew, who've been taking advantage of the warmer weather to use the boat's ensuite washing facilities. OK, in fact it's the dive platform at the back, with a hose pipe which provides a shower which can best be described as bracing.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
It was almost too good to be true. A clear run out from Malta, missing all the bad weather - covering over 900 miles in 48 hours 7 minutes - and arriving in Port Said at breakfast time Monday. The marina here has welcomed us with open arms - each crew member presented with a beautiful bouquet of flowers by local tourism officials, and a wonderful handmade plate presented by Port Said Rotary Club.
But now we have another slight hitch. Passages through the Suez Canal go in convoys - apart from four passing places, the canal is single way traffic only - with just two departures in the early morning from Port Said. Unfortunately we missed the 0700 departure today, and because the 0100 departure is for the big ships, we have to wait until the 0700 on Tuesday morning.
So another delay, with the knock-on effect that our arrival in Jeddah may not be until the local weekend, when everything comes to a standstill. But that's a problem we'll tackle when we get to it. In the meantime we have to see whether the canal pilots can be tempted to bend the rules for us to go through Suez in less than the usual two days.
So after a stimulating pick-me-up in the form of a couple of glasses of Egyptian coffee, we're taking the time to fuel up and generally get the boat cleaned and tidied ready for tomorrow's early start.
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Malta - Port Said
Time of leg: 2 days 0 hours 7 minutes
Distance covered: 978 nautical miles
Average speed: 20.4 knots (this is what it should be all the time!)
Fuel consumed: 2,053 litres
Average fuel consumption: 2.1 litres / nautical mile
Next stop: Jeddah
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
Today's the big day, our transit of the Suez Canal. Our agent, Nagib Latif, has fixed it so we can go straight through in a day - normally vessels have to overnight at Ismailia, roughly halfway along. The system is that ships travel in convoy, with two departures a day from Port Said, and one northwards from Port Suez.
Nagib has an impressive collection of testimonial letters, including one from the Cable & Wireless Adventurer, whose Suez transit he arranged in 1998.
At around 0700 our pilot arrives, and after ascertaining that he isn't going to get any cigarettes from us (not for nothing is the Suez known as the Marlboro Canal), we set off at around 0730, at the tail end of a convoy with a number of large cargo ships ahead, spaced roughly half a mile apart.
It's a hazy day, with not too much in the way of sunshine. The early part of the passage is somewhat uninspiring. We're fairly low in the water, so we can't see much above the canal embankments, although we do get a slightly different perspective when a train comes past along the track running parallel to the canal.
As we get further south, past El-Qantara, the embankments have shallowed out somewhat, and the occasional habitations come into view. More fascinating are the sand dunes, scrub and palm trees of the Sinai Desert on our left-hand side.
At El-Ballah is one of a whole string of checkpoints, staffed by people whom our pilot doesn't know. So a couple of packs of cigarettes are required to smooth our way through. But interestingly, our pilot doesn't even step ashore - he simply tosses the packs over onto the quayside. But now from a sedate 8 to 10 knots, we get a short burst of steaming along at over 20.
At just after 1200, we arrive at Ismailia, the halfway staging point where ships are normally expected to overnight. Here we drop off our first pilot, who takes a taxi back to Port Said, and pick up another. This second pilot is rather more interested in the boat, and takes the helm. Definitely what we want - he cranks up the speed to over 20 knots, although he rather gets carried away, so Alan Priddy has to ask him to throttle back. We want to make sure we have sufficient fuel to get us to Jeddah!
For a while, the artificial canal opens up into a wide expanse of water with channel markers called Great Bitter Lake. Fringed with palm trees and apartment blocks to our right, and barren open desert on the Sinai side.
It's also pretty apparent that we're travelling through a very sensitive military area. The banks of the canal are dotted with numerous army posts, and every so often, Bailey Bridges are lined up on ramps ready for immediate launching. Sinai, of course, was invaded by the Israelis in 1967.
Perhaps more irksome is the expectation that each of the checkpoints along the way expects baksheesh in the form of cigarettes. If they don't get it, they can force delays upon you. We have a tense moment at the last checkpoint before Suez, where clearly they've learned that the one before only received one pack of cigarettes (our last). But our pilot sorts out the situation with a bribe of a more conventional nature, and we're allowed to continue.
The good news, as we arrive in Port Suez, is that we have at least one record of sorts, albeit unofficial. We'd been told that up until now, the fastest transit of the Suez Canal was nine and a half hours. Our time? Eight and a quarter.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
All right, own up. Which smart aleck told me the Red Sea was always flat? For the past three years, I've been deluding myself that Spirit of Cardiff's passage through the Red Sea would be a doddle. Nothing less than a mill pond, in fact.
Now that I'm here, the truth is that we're in a head sea, the waves beneath us rather like sleepers on a railway track, with the occasional few sleepers, and indeed railway embankment, missing. Every now and then a larger rogue wave appears, and whoever's at the throttle has to knock it back quickly to avoid doing us too much damage. The boat handles it just fine, of course - it's the crew that sustains the injuries.
Last night's passage through the Gulf of Suez was pretty spectacular. On either side of us, as far as the eye could see, oil rigs blazed with lights, some of them flaring off gas in huge balls of fire which lit up the night sky.
On the minus side (not that everything else was a plus), we're now minus one microwave cooker, so no hot drinks or cooked meals. It all happened rather dramatically last evening when the smell of burning filled the cabin, the result of an electrical short in a power socket adjacent to the cooker.
Given the rather bumpy sea conditions, we've been having a relatively relaxing day, making the most of the sunshine. But when we discover the southerly wind that's providing the problem is set like this for another 24 hours, and we're still 300 miles from Jeddah making just 10 knots, Alan decides to go for it and open the throttle. If nothing else, he'd pass an audition for a remake of "Death Race 2000". But it's just too painful, and we throttle back once more to 10 knots. So, Jeddah- sometime on Thursday. Hopefully...
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
The last 24 hours have been slow, painfully slow. And indeed painful. At times very painful. We've been labouring into a head sea driven by a 20 knot wind, making around 6 knots through the night. But now the sea has flattened off to the extent that we're starting to make good headway. With any luck we'll be in Jeddah before the pubs close tonight. Except of course there aren't any pubs.
Whilst we're fortunate to have onboard the very latest in communications technology in the form of Iridium low earth orbit satellite telephones, getting voice and data out of the boat is still not as straightforward as you might think. As we travel further east, we're getting more and more out of synch with the time in the UK, a point we always have to bear in mind when phoning home, or for our daily weather update.
The computer I use is a Psion Series 5mx handheld. I learned long ago that a laptop or notebook computer is totally unusable on Spirit. There's too much bouncing around to be able to control a mouse pointer, and backlit screen displays vanish in bright sunlight.
My office, and I use the term guardedly, is one of the two bunks in the rear of Spirit of Cardiff's cabin, so it's not possible to use it during the hours of darkness, when two crew are on watch, the other two sleeping. And because the way the night watches work, I can't expect the last sleeper to vacate my office until mid-morning.
As we head further south, it gets darker earlier, and as the cabin has to remain unlit to preserve the night vision of those on watch, I can't use a torch to look at my keyboard. So basically, I wind up with an afternoon to write reports, and send and receive emails. That's further cut down by time spent trying to get a data connection - it's not always that quick.
But judging by the many comments we've received from around the world, the effort certainly isn't wasted. So whilst I have light in my cabin, and satellites overhead, rest assured the reports will keep on coming.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
Thursday was a real mix of days. Horrendously bumpy for the first part, but then hopes raised higher and higher as the wind dropped back and we started to make real progress. At the end of it, we were motoring along at over 20 knots, and whilst we've made up some lost time, we still have a way to go.
Our arrival in Jeddah is just before nine in the evening local time. The approach itself is spectacular, with an illuminated water fountain jetting a spray of light 200 metres into the night sky. After some initial confusion with the port control, who thought we were a large ship, and couldn't believe we'd made it all the way to the harbour entrance without being spotted, we tie up.
Almost immediately the boat is searched thoroughly from top to bottom by port police. They're looking of course for illegal alcohol, and, er, magazines of a certain dubious nature. They find neither. Hamed, our shipping agent arrives, and immediately we start to feel rather more welcome.
When I mention my desperate need for a cup of proper tea, Hamed makes a call on his mobile phone, and before we know it, cups of steaming hot tea appear. He brings out a typical Saudi mat, removes his sandals to sit down, and invites us to do the same. So we talk about pressing issues of the day. And just as we found in Egypt, the bottom line is that ordinary people want to live ordinary lives, and that nobody wants to shoot at anyone else.
Then, as if by magic, several chicken and chip meals appear. The whole episode by now has taken on a vaguely surreal tone - sitting on a picnic mat on a dockside at midnight, tucking into Jeddah's equivalent of a KFC meal.
Unfortunately, photography in the port area is banned, so words alone will have to paint the picture. Then just after midnight, we're off again, this time with Aden in our sights.
Clive Tully
FACTBOX:
Port Said - Jeddah
Time of leg: 3 days 12 hours 6 minutes
Distance covered: 791.8 nautical miles
Average speed: 9.4 knots
Fuel consumed: 1427.4 litres
Average fuel consumption: 1.8 litres / nautical mile
Next stop: Aden, Yemen
ETA: sometime Saturday
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Report transmitted by Iridium satellite network
We're approaching the southern end of the Red Sea. During the night, we've seen a lot of ships, some of which have looked decidedly dubious, including one with a speedboat mounted ominously from davits at its stern. Whilst a lot of the pirate activity in this neck of the woods comes from opportunist fishermen out to make a bit on the side when richer pickings present themselves, the professionals use speedboats, and quite often operate in packs. Those are the ones we have to keep our eyes peeled for.
It's 9 o'clock in the morning, and we've entered Devil's Gate, the point where the Red Sea narrows to around 20 miles across before it opens out into the Arabian Sea. To our left is Yemen, to our right, Eritrea. This is where most of the reported pirate activity happens - shallow waters in a narrow channel, where the victims, including large cargo ships, have nowhere to go.
A Singapore registered container ship comes up behind us and overtakes. We're in bumpy head seas at the moment, and Alan Priddy tries his usual ploy of nipping round behind to gain some shelter in the ship's wash. He tries to call them up on the radio, but they don't respond.
"They're not looking happy, Al", says Steve, noticing a flurry of activity on the ship's bridge. We're in the heart of pirate country, and it's common practice for ships not to respond to any radio calls, particularly from small speedboats like us getting uncomfortably close.
Alan decides to draw abreast of the ship so they can get a clearer look at the logos along our side. Before we know it, he's returning our call. "What are your intentions? Over."
Alan explains that we're a round-the-world powerboat, and it transpires the ship, the Kota Major, is also heading for Aden. So we can take shelter behind her, providing we can keep up.
As we continue in her wake, we spot a speedboat off our starboard bow, around a mile off. These are most definitely not pleasureboating waters, and there can be only one assumption as to what it must be. Fortunately for us, he's having much bigger problems than us in these head seas, and whilst it's almost unbearably uncomfortable tail-gating the Kota Major, we're making 19 knots.
So in the space of around twenty minutes, we've been mistaken for pirates, and we've seen them (probably) ourselves. Fortunately we've shown what could well have been the real thing a clean pair of heels.
The problem now is that we can't keep up with the Kota Major. There's so much air in the water, our prop isn't biting efficiently - a phenomenon called cavitation. We can't get the boat to perform, and we're injuring ourselves in the process. Reluctantly we fall back to a more comfortable speed of around 10 knots. Bang goes our chance of arriving in Aden today - unless the weather changes again.
Next stop: Aden, Yemen
ETA: Sunday, maybe
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
Saturday certainly turned out to be an eventful day, what with our little skirmish with the container ship and potential pirates in the morning. It's afternoon by the time we turn the corner at the bottom end of the Red Sea, and into the Gulf of Aden.
The coastline looks rugged and mountainous, quite dramatic. As we pass a few small fishing boats every now and then, the occupants, usually three or four, stand up and wave their arms over their heads.
Given that waving your arms in this manner is an accepted form of international distress signal, this appears to be an unusual epidemic of boats in distress, spread out over several miles. Needless to say we're wise to their game, and leave them to go back to their fishing until someone more gullible comes along.
We'd been hoping to make Aden harbour before nightfall, not least because having only seen Jeddah in darkness, it would have been good to see Aden - supposedly very beautiful - in daylight. We didn't quite make it though, with dusk gathering while we're still ten miles out.
"Fishing boat dead ahead!" Steve Lloyd spots the shadowy shape of a slender boat with outboard motor typical of those used by the fishermen in these parts. The guy on board is clearly rattled to find a powerboat bearing down on him at high speed, and after scrabbling about, he flashes a torch at us wildly.
Lucky for him we've already seen him and taken avoiding action. But it's a salutary reminder that there will be many such incidents of small boats out at night without lights.
We have a few communications problems as we arrive in Aden harbour, but eventually we find the right place to go, although not before attempting to tie up at the wrong refuelling berth, where a guy promptly unslings his AK47 and points it at us. Welcome to Yemen.
After an hour bobbing around in the harbour, a small motorboat comes out to meet us. Alan Priddy, Alan Carter and I hop aboard, to be taken ashore to the harbour administration office. Here we meet Gamal Saddiq, our agent in Aden, who helps us complete the paperwork. When I ask the official in charge whether it's OK to film some of the proceedings, I'm surprised when he nips out and returns shortly, dressed up in a splendid uniform. Obviously out to create a good impression. In fact everyone here is extremely warm and friendly.
Also here to meet us is a journalist from a newspaper in Aden. He interviews each of us in turn, with translations from Gamal recorded on cassette. He wonders what we think of Aden. We tell him we're pleased to be here, and that we're looking forward to coming back some time to explore the place properly.
With formalities and interviews over, we're whisked back to the Spirit, still moored up to another boat in the harbour - accompanied by a large posse of people.
Steve probably wonders what's going on for a minute as the boat is boarded by at least a dozen people, some in the cabin, some on the engine box, others clinging to the railings along the sides of the cabin. Then it's off to the fuel bunker to get our diesel, before heading out into the night, crew back down to four, and our next stop in Oman.
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Jeddah - Aden
Time of leg: 1 day 18 hours 43 minutes
Distance covered: 758 nautical miles
Average speed: 17.7 knots
Fuel consumed: 1,638 litres
Average fuel consumption: 2.16 litres / nautical mile
Next stop: Salalah, Oman
ETA: Monday morning
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
The sea is virtually flat, the sun blazing, and Spirit of Cardiff is well into making up time lost at the beginning of the voyage. Having told our hosts in Salalah in Oman that we'll be arriving in time for lunch on Monday, we actually arrive well before breakfast time.
But because we know this particular stop has been arranged with military precision, complete with welcoming party and buffet meal, we split the difference and come in mid-morning, after doing some essential maintenance on the boat.
Once inside the harbour, two tug boats with water cannons jet huge sprays on either side to form the most impressive welcome yet. Waiting to greet us on the quayside are our hosts from Salalah Port Services and BP, co-ordinated by Dick Simmons of NRG (introduced to us by Mike Garside) along with local press and TV.
Tables with parasols, cool drinks and a choice of hot or cold meals. It certainly makes a difference to what we've been eating for the past few days.
Across the harbour is the Sultan of Oman's Royal Yacht, and along the quayside from us, the Royal Fleet Auxiliary Fort Austin, whose crew kindly donated a huge pile of 24 hour military ration packs to augment the generous amount of provisions supplied by our hosts. "I don't think we'll need any more food till San Diego," quips Alan Priddy.
When we tell our hosts that each crew member has been suffering from upset tummies and salt sores, they promptly send for the port doctor, who supplies us with a variety of tablets, creams, and rehydrating fluids. Fortunately the assembled guests aren't treated to the sight of any of us having the sore bits inspected. We're not a pretty sight!
Sadly all too soon comes the time to leave, after less than two hours. As we set out across the harbour, the tugboats once again blast out their watery salute, while the Royal Yacht sounds its horn.
Now, with the boat fully laden with fuel and provisions, we're heading straight across the Indian Ocean to Mangalore in India. It's the longest leg of the entire circumnavigation - 1250 miles - and we reckon that with the good weather forecast we've had, we should do it in three days.
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Aden - Salalah
Time of leg: 1 day 7 hours 23 minutes
Distance covered: 618.2 nautical miles
Average speed: 19.6 knots
Fuel consumed: 1,208.9 litres
Average fuel consumption: 1.95 litres / nautical mile
Next stop: Mangalore, India
ETA: Thursday lunchtime
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
Today's the first full day of our crossing of the Indian Ocean, at 1,250 miles, the longest leg of the entire round the world voyage. Fuel consumption is critical on this leg, as we're at the absolute limit of the boat's range, with little margin for error.
In fact, the first 250 miles from Salalah saw us consume 700 litres of diesel, which works out at 2.8 litres per mile - rather more than the 2 litres per mile we have to average. But at the moment we're not worried. The boat is extra heavy with all the fuel and provisions at the moment. As the fuel burns off, the boat becomes lighter, using the remaining fuel far more efficiently. We've done big crossings before, and the way to work it is budget speed against fuel consumption. If we're using too much, we simply have to slow down in order to guarantee our arrival in port.
After the previous couple of day's swelter in the cabin, we'd put in an emergency request to Salalah for some drawing pins. Now the cabin has the appearance of some downmarket boudoir, our towels tacked across the windows. It looks makeshift, but it does the job brilliantly, keeping the blazing sun at bay, and the cabin cool and shady.
Whilst we've all suffered from Delhi Belly to an extent over the last couple of days, my attack has been rather more prolonged and vicious. But at least I've got the hang (oops!) of going off the back of the boat, crouching on the edge of the dive platform. I've even done away with the toilet paper, preferring to use our shower hose to finish off Arab style. Appropriately enough, my horoscope for today says "there is a breeze around Uranus"!
Whilst the boat is moving comparatively slowly - around 15 knots in flat seas - it's a good time to catch up on a few maintenance tasks. So Alan Priddy and Steve Lloyd have given the Treadmaster covering on the deck a good scrub down to remove three weeks' worth of accumulated mildew. More importantly, Alan has managed to complete modifications to the autopilot, so we can sit back and let the boat drive itself again.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
The sun is going down, and Alan Carter is just enjoying a post dinner cup of tea on Spirit of Cardiff's aft deck, when all of a sudden he lets out a strangled cry. For a second, one of us inside thinks he's gone overboard, or at least something of his has. Quite the reverse, in fact.
There on the deck lies a flying fish, no longer flying, crash-landed and flapping about weakly. These evolutionary oddities jump out of the water, but instead of plopping straight back in, fly considerable distances, skimming just above the waves using wing-sized fins to keep them airborne. This one hadn't banked on Spirit of Cardiff being in its flight-path.
"Well, chuck it back," says Alan Priddy from inside the cabin. But Alan Carter and I are transfixed in squeamish recoil at the thought of handling a slippery fish. Clearly no anglers. Those that want a job done well know they have to do it themselves, but as Alan dashes back on this important mercy mission, Steve warns him of the danger of possible poisonous spines. "OK, I'll use a cloth, then." He grabs the stranded fish and returns it to its natural habitat without any further ado. Panic over.
We're now roughly halfway across the Indian Ocean, running at around 15 knots to conserve fuel, with speed expected to increase as we get into the final 24 hours of the crossing.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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It's Thursday morning, we're just 250 miles from the Indian coast, and in theory, we should be able to make landfall by late afternoon. It won't happen though. Somehow our fuel calculations are slightly awry, and we've had to reduce our speed to 12 knots in order to keep our fuel consumption within acceptable bounds. Were at the very limit of the boat's range. So we won't arrive until tomorrow morning. But we will arrive.
Last night's drama comes at around the same time as yesterday's flying fish fiasco. Alan Carter is outside on the aft deck with the stove, getting ready to cook up our evening meal, when suddenly there are shouts of "help!" We look out of the cabin to see the stove engulfed in a ball of flame, and Alan attacking it with a towel.
Once again it's Alan Priddy to the rescue, who dashes over and beats the flames into submission with a pillow. Apparently the gas cartridge hadn't quite seated properly when it was attached to the stove, causing the leak.
So the fire is out, and we're no longer in danger of being blown out of the water. But we are in danger of going without our evening cuppa. Somehow in all of the confusion, the stove's pan support has ended up going over the side.
We're sure we can get a replacement knocked up in India, where absolutely anything is possible with bits of iron and a welding torch. In the meantime, Alan and Steve come up with a solution - a bit Heath Robinson perhaps, but workable none the less - two flat spanners.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
There's a heart-stopping moment when the anguished look on Alan Priddy's face says it all. An ancient crane has attempted to lift Spirit of Cardiff out of the water for her all-important 5,000 mile gearbox oil change, and one of the four rather insubstantial nylon ropes attached to her has snapped. "For a split second," he says, "I thought it was all over."
Fortunately the boat is only a couple of feet above the water when it happens, but the splash as she hits it once more is considerable. Words aren't even necessary. Had that happened above the quay, it really would have been all over.
From modern nylon we progress to ancient hemp rope, around one and a half inches thick. It holds, but not before the boat has come out of the water at a rather crazy angle, with crowds of inquisitive onlookers gathered around this unusual spectacle. Welcome to Mangalore, India.
We'd arrived in the early hours of Friday morning, after having seen virtually no ships for the last three days, and now suddenly the lights of Mangalore are spread out along the coast in front of us. Spirit of Cardiff has been throttled back for the entire passage to ensure our fuel would actually last the distance.
Having discovered we were 100 litres down on what we thought we had, we could have been in a sticky situation if we'd run out before reaching land. Fortunately our Soltron fuel additive has saved the day. We proved its worth last year crossing the Atlantic, gaining an extra 8% mileage out of our diesel. Without it this time, we would definitely still be adrift in the Indian Ocean.
Having timed in to the channel marker for Mangalore harbour, we then head out to sea for a couple of hours to wait for daybreak. The sun is just rising as we enter the harbour, numerous fishing boats heading out for sea. Mangalore is an important fishing centre.
The greeting on the quayside in old Mangalore is heart-warming, each crew member receiving a garland of flowers, a welcoming dab of vermilion on the forehead, and the wafted fumes of a burning lamp to ward off evil spirits. We're also presented with a traditional carved sandalwood box, characteristic of the area. Rather more impressive I feel than the wooden plaque and tacky mousemat with which we have been supplied to present on behalf of the people of Cardiff.
On the minus side, we find that while our engineering spares in the crate despatched from the UK have survived the journey to India all right, all of the toiletries, dried milk and food items to see us over the next few legs of the trip have been half-inched. Not much point in a customs declaration, really - but this is Asia, where this kind of petty theft is to be expected.
And so it's down to the business of maintenance and refuelling. Our hosts have got everything sorted to a "T". While Alan Priddy and Steve Lloyd attend to the essential maintenance, Alan Carter and I are whisked to the local posh hotel, where we have the use of a room to get showered, and enjoy a decent cup of tea and breakfast. All of this has come through Alan Priddy's Rotary connections, a marvellous testament to the ties of friendship in a worldwide organisation.
Another record?
Some while ago, it was reported in the marine trade press that a group of three Portuguese RIBs had had their claim for the longest unsupported ocean crossing by rigid inflatable boat accepted by the Guinness Book of Records, based on a passage undertaken last summer from Lisbon to Horta in the Azores. They were claiming 1,000 miles, although the distance point to point is actually quite a bit less.
I wrote to the Guinness Book of Records pointing out that Spirit of Cardiff's transatlantic crossing last year involved three legs, all of which were over 1,000 miles. How could they possibly accept the Portuguese claim? Strangely, they saw fit not to reply.
Well, now we've gone further than even the Transatlantic legs. Salalah to Mangalore is 1,251 nautical miles. Which means Spirit of Cardiff has made the longest ever unsupported ocean crossing for a rigid inflatable boat - unless of course someone else knows better!
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Salalah - Mangalore
Time of leg: 3 days 13 hours 04 minutes
Distance covered: 1,251 nautical miles
Average speed: 14.7 knots
Fuel consumed: 2,418 litres
Average fuel consumption: 1.93 litres / nautical mile
Next stop: Galle, Sri Lanka
ETA: Sunday
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
"I'm going to bear off round it some more." As I lay in my bunk, I can hear Alan Priddy's voice, and I assume he's simply talking about a ship or some other obstacle. Then he says "we're fifty degrees off course now!"
As I come to my senses, I become aware of what's going on. It's the early hours of Saturday morning, we're off the west coast of India, heading south, and it's as though we're on the inside of a wonky neon tube. The clouds which cover the sky are flashing with the diffused blue-white glow of sheet lightning. Then every so often an orange bolt of forked lightning sparks from the base of the cloud to the sea. It's an intense flash, blindingly bright, but with a complete absence of sound.
Alan has been using the radar to try and steer around the worst of it. It shows up as huge splodges, miles across, and even though we're trying to skirt around the edge of the storm, it still seems frighteningly close, with massive flashes going off all around us. Even on the radar, there's no escaping the power and the beauty of it. Every time a bolt of forked lightning cracks across the sky, it shows up on the radar as a thin blue line arcing from one side of the screen to the other.
It's at this point I begin to wish there'd been a Trivial Pursuit question which goes something along the lines of "what happens when a stainless steel tank containing hundreds of litres of diesel is hit by several million volts of lightning?" I'd really rather not find out the hard way.
I know from experience in the mountains that when the electricity gets really close, you can feel it. The air crackles and your hair stands on end. That's the time not to be holding on to anything metal. We don't appear to be at that stage yet, but I make a mental note to sit on my hands rather than grab any of the four steel upright poles in Spirit of Cardiff's cabin.
As we move further away from the storm, we hear one or two rumbles of thunder for the first time, and then, as with any decent fireworks display, the best comes last. The cloud ahead of us seems to explode, its entire surface covered with a crazy paving network of thousands of orange glowing electrical pathways. For a moment, it looks like some alien electronic brain from a sci-fi movie.
After two hours, the flashes subside. Then down comes the rain - torrents of it.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture credits: Alan Carter
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
It's been a tense final couple of hours, picking our way through yet another awesome electrical storm. This time it's as though huge strobe lights are going off inside the clouds. It builds up, and then suddenly - zap! A bolt of lightning hits the sea. After the previous night's storm, we realise now why we've seen so many dead fish on the surface. Frying tonight!
It's Saturday evening, and we complete the timed run to the entrance of Galle harbour, where we await further instructions. We can't just go straight in, as the harbour entrance is actually blocked at night. Although the separatist Tamil Tigers have recently come to some kind of accord with the Sri Lankan government, Galle harbour is still deemed a sensitive area requiring heightened security.
We're intercepted at the harbour entrance by a boat, but communication proves a little difficult. It turns out tobe the harbour patrol vessel. Eventually we're told to follow the boat in, at which point a couple of small boats with outboards come up behind us, and we're boarded by the Sri Lankan navy, who guide us in.
We can see the barrier across the harbour, a string of oil drums floating across the entrance, but at one end there's a gap large enough for us to get through. Inside, the harbour itself is modern and well built. As we complete the customs formalities - which includes making a grudging presentation of the last of Steve's cigarettes (they even have the nerve to question the brand!) - a strange twang reverberates around the dock, rather like someone hitting an empty oil drum.
"They throw sticks of gelignite into the harbour every so often," I'm told, "and it's fairly random where they do it, so you'll feel some bangs more than others." The idea is to deter frogmen from entering the harbour and attacking ships or installations.
I've suffered insomnia for all the usual reasons - crying children, snoring adults, illness, traffic and storms. But coming from a generation that didn't have to live through the Blitz, I can say it's my first night where sleep has been punctuated by the dull thud of explosives.
Sunday morning, and we're refuelled speedily and efficiently, albeit at its most basic level, the diesel gravity fed from 205 litre drums off the back of a pickup truck. And then we set off. We choose 0900 local (0330 GMT) as our departure time, but haven't banked on the Sri Lankan navy as our parting interlude.
They board us at the harbour entrance for a final "search". For search, read scrounge. They want camera film, and are disappointed when I tell them we don't use it. Our cigarettes are already gone - a gift to last night's customs official - no, we don't have any wine on board, and yes, we'd love to give you a T shirt, but the ones we're wearing are all we have.
There's a slightly dodgy moment when their eyes alight on the waterproof matches in our survival kit, and decide they're detonators. "They aren't," insists Alan Priddy. "Look, I'll show you." He tries to demonstrate by striking one, but it refuses to light. Maybe it isn't wet enough...
They end up departing, each clutching a can of Red Bull. "Good luck with the record," they wish us. I feel like telling them their scrounging has cost us twenty minutes, but I think better of it and hold my tongue.
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Mangalore - Galle
Time of leg: 1 day 7 hours 9 minutes
Distance covered: 618 nautical miles
Average speed: 19.8 knots
Fuel consumed: 1,293 litres
Average fuel consumption: 2.09 litres / nautical mile
Next stop: Sabang, Indonesia
ETA: Tuesday
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
Today, for the first time in ages, the sky is overcast with dark clouds, and there's rain in the air. Even so, there are enough chinks in between for the sun to filter through, so it's still quite bright.
It's actually rather nice to have a change from the scorching direct sunshine which forces us to erect towel sunshades in the cabin, and flee from the fiercest of the heat in the middle of the day. But it's still warm and muggy enough to warrant not much more than a pair of shorts and maybe a T-shirt.
Last night saw us skirting yet another big electrical storm, but strangely this time, hardly any of it showed up on the radar. Just the odd lightning flash. We've actually taken a route slightly south of our planned one in order to miss the worst of the bad weather.
We're making good progress none the less, averaging nineteen to twenty knots across a sea with an oily smoothness to its surface. And although we're now mid-ocean, there's a lot of debris in the water. Alan Priddy has just reported a near miss with a forty foot tree trunk!
We expect to be at our next refuelling stop in Sabang, a small island just off the northern tip of Indonesia, by Tuesday morning. From here, it's around six hundred miles to Singapore, passing along the Strait of Malacca - one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world, and also one of the busiest piracy hotspots.
Clive Tully
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
Picture and text transmitted by Iridium satellite network
There's no doubt about it. The little island of Pulau Weh at the northern tip of Indonesia is a tropical paradise. Jungle-clad mountain sides, beautiful clear waters, some of the finest in the world for diving. And the little town of Sabang is certainly picturesque, its harbour busy with small fishing boats.
We've arrived there after a superb run across the second part of the Indian Ocean from Galle in Sri Lanka, achieving 950 miles in just under two days. Here on the quayside to greet us is Ton, the Dutch owner of Lumba Lumba diving school, our contact for the stop. He's arranged everything - our fuel arrives promptly, and he presents us with our water provisions, courtesy of Lumba Lumba.
Then the fun begins. I'm the first one to be taken off into a nearby office to complete a pile of paperwork - the usual crew list with passport numbers, and details of the boat, with ports of call. Then there's a medical form - do any of the crew suffer from communicable diseases? Has anyone died on board? I'm tempted to say "not yet", but answer with a simple "no". Any occurrences of plague?
At the end of it, I'm told there is a 25 dollar "fee" to pay for the quarantine paperwork. Yeah, right. But this is only the thin end of the wedge. Alan Priddy gets it even worse. He's taken off in a van to "complete immigration papers". It involves a 15 kilometre journey around the island to a secure compound, where he's interrogated by three or four different people.
At the end of each interrogation, they let him sit there, while six or seven people take it in turns to come in, poke him in the arms and laugh.
"Then a guy comes in," he says, "probably only 17 or 18 years old, and takes my cap off me. I thought he just expected me not to wear it indoors, but then he says 'I want your cap'. I tell him he isn't having it. He then says 'I want the cap or you'll stay here'. I tell him he still isn't having it. Someone else comes in and says 'I want your shirt.' I tell him he isn't having my shirt, and that I want to clear immigration. Then another one takes a fancy to my watch."
This goes on for about 40 minutes, a process which Alan finds very intimidating. Eventually he's taken to the head honcho, who's sitting there pretending to read the paperwork. He then agrees with the others how much Alan should stump up. "It wasn't a verbal request, either," says Alan. It was a written request on the back of a napkin - 75 dollars."
"When I ask them if that's it, they say yes. What I didn't realise at the time was that I'd just purchased three packets of crisps at 25 dollars each! I was taken to some little old lady's house to collect them, where the guy tells me 'I've just made this lady very happy'. I was taken back to the boat on the back of a motor bike, and by the time I arrived, there was a queue of people holding their hands out for dollars."
"Our fuel bill was 437 dollars, which is OK. But then there was a 25 dollar quarantine bill, a 75 dollar immigration bill, 30 dollar harbour bill, 15 dollars for something else and 25 dollars just for tying the rope to the bloody pier. Countries like this have no future until they come into the real world," says Alan. "This is daylight robbery, and I've had enough of it."
So could this be yet another world record for Spirit of Cardiff - for purchasing the most expensive potato crisps ever? It's the usual story - local people couldn't be nicer, but the officials corrupt and rotten to the core. After a stay of just two hours, at least now we're on our way, heading for the Strait of Malacca, and Singapore.
Clive Tully
FACTBOX
Galle - Sabang
Time of leg: 1 day 23 hours 48 minutes
Distance covered: 950 nautical miles
Average speed: 19.87 knots
Fuel consumed: 2,029 litres
Average fuel consumption: 2.13 litres / nautical mile
Next stop: Singapore
ETA: Wednesday evening
Copyright Clive Tully ©2002
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