INDONESIA TO COCOS-KEELING ISLANDS - WELL, NOT QUITE!!
05 July 2013
PHOTO: OUR RESCUERS
We left Tanjung Lesung around 0600 after a restful night with the intention of sailing down to 1st Point Lighthouse located just inside the southern end of the Sunda Strait. We left with no wind and so we motored, again mindful of the using of precious diesel, but we pressed on. As we neared our intended anchorage we could see a nasty swell from the NW breaking into the anchorage and so we opted to just continue to Cocos from there. Why not, we had to leave sooner or later and the forecasts were good. We had no wind at the time - nor, unusually, did we have any wind for the remainder of the next 36 hours. We did initially have a very strong cross-current that tried to sweep us off to the SE to Christmas Island. We at first didn't realise how strong the current was, but during subsequent plots on the chart we measured it at around 3 knots. On the second day out, Libby had just taken over watch at around 2200, when she called me back on deck to check the weather. There in front of us to the South was a weird cloud formation that was eerily glowing - it had to be a front coming through. Minutes later it smashed into us. Luckily our night passage procedure is to have a reef in the sail, this probably in hindsight saved us as the wind went from zero to over 30 knots in a heartbeat and continued to rise to 40 knots from the SW. We never again had the opportunity to put in another reef. Yes, the wind was from the direction we wanted to travel. The wave height built and built until we were facing up to 8 metre seas on a 3-4 metre Indian Ocean swell. The wave fronts were nearly vertical because the current was still persisting and so, with wind and tide against us, we struggled to make headway. Inside the boat it was chaotic. We were lurching, pitching and rolling almost in the same second of time. Not much was getting loose in the cabin, but Libby and I were both getting bashed and bruised from the violent motion inside the boat. I thought initially that perhaps once the front passed over us that things might calm down a bit - but no, the storm continued and, if anything, got worse. Flying spray drenched everything including us. The huge seas continuously buried Aquarius from the bow back to the cockpit. Libby at one stage got drenched down in the saloon as a wave rushed along the deck, up the cockpit screens and managed to get through the companion way hatch cover. Visibility was down to the next wave crest. We were miserable and were limited to cold baked beans and water due to the danger involved when trying to light the stove to warm or cook. Even so, every now and then we did manage to boil some water for a hot drink to give us a much needed boost. Libby was feeling a bit sick and I was not really in the frame of mind for feasting. We would change into dry clothing only to be wet within seconds of coming on deck. Wet weather clothing wasn't an option as we were still tropical and would be wet through from sweat. After three days and two nights of the bashing I came on deck to find a very miserable looking crew - we were past enjoying the trip and a decision had to be made - continue or turn back. The boat was starting to break - the outhaul track on the boom had been ripped off, the outhaul slide had been ripped apart, the boom-brake sheet shackle had been smashed. We had lost one life buoy that had been ripped away from its housing. I pondered on it for sometime - this was our dream, this was the reason we initially bought the boat, to sail her around the world. But, we also wanted to enjoy the journey, and we certainly weren't at the time. I knew that down track we faced possibly worse weather as we neared South Africa. I decided to turn back. Just at that moment a huge wave hit us and before I knew it we slid back down the wave almost broaching - I somehow steered out of the mess and, to my surprise, found we had turned onto a reciprocal bearing and were now in fact headed back to the Sunda Strait. Good enough sign from above for me, so I yelled to Libby we were turning back and, while she didn't breathe a sigh of relief, I am certain a smile came back to her face.
We sailed back for a further 2 days, still with no sign of the weather abating. We were constantly battered by cells within the stormy weather - some reaching 40-50 knots and the seas were still as high as ever. I started to worry about the effect of the current streaming out of the Sunda Strait on the huge SW swell and waves. As we closed with the Strait my concern was well founded - the seas became very confused and then we began to corkscrew through the huge waves. Night closed on us as we neared the Strait. We had thought that we might be able to tuck into a little bay just inside the entrance to the Strait but, as we neared the turn point, two things happened. The first was the appearance of two fishing trawlers that seemed to have some manic quest to stay very close to us and, indeed, cross our track in front of us with their weird turn patterns. We spent sometime dodging them and trying to get some sea-room to manoeuvre. Second, when we started the engine to take us into the bay, the engine ran for 30 seconds and died. It refused to run - now we were in trouble. We decided to sail as far up the Strait as we could, and if possible, continue as far north toward Belitung/Batam as possible. We guessed that sludge in our tanks had blocked the engine fuel filters and that we would try to clear them when we were more stable. Once inside the Strait we had the protection offered by Sumatra and the seas died down and we sailed along quite nicely - until the wind died. Then we drifted. The Sunda Straits has a diurnal tide - one high and one low every 24 hours and the tidal current can reach 4 knots in places. We drifted for nearly 3 days up and down the Straits, gradually inching our war to the northern end. The northern end of the Sunda Strait is a very busy area with a lot of shipping going into and out of the Port of Merak. We tried constantly to call for assistance on the VHF radio - we called the Merak Port authorities, ships, anyone and everyone. Only one ship answered and when I told him our problem - silence. Just north of the Port is a cluttered anchorage with tanker and container ships lying at anchor. In the centre of the Strait at the northern end is an island surrounded by reef and isolated exposed rocks. We were drifting in the current toward the island. We decided to lash our dinghy to the side of the hull and use the dinghy's engine to propel us through the crowded area. This worked well and we were able to manage about 3 knots with the engine running about half revs. We were very surprised at how economical the engine proved fuel wise. We gained the anchorage area just at last light and thought that within an hour we would be free of the clutches of the Strait and into more open water. No, just as we reached the middle of the anchorage a thunderstorm of enormous proportions descended upon us once again. The winds shrieked around us getting up to 40-50 knots at times, the lightning was almost constant and vivid, the rain was torrential and reduced visibility at times to but a few metres. The lightning suddenly struck a nearby power station and all lights on the nearby shore were blacked out. Now we had ourselves a situation. No reference points on the land which was very close by, the radar blanked out with the driving rain, the wind and very strong current swirling us around at will, and big ships also very, very close by us. Every now and then we would see a stern or stem light on an anchored ship appear out of the rain - again and again we would go into avoidance mode. Ships were still underway and we were worried that we might not see one until it was too late. This went on for an hour or so. Suddenly Libby had enough, she jumped into the dinghy and while still harnessed to the jacklines on board Aquarius, and holding on for grim death, revved the engine out and shouted to me to steer by the compass and head north out of the strait. It worked, we slowly made headway and cleared the Strait about 30 minutes later just as the Thunderstorm petered out. We were still in the clutches of the currents and so opted to continue with the dinghy motor until the tide had turned and we could make some reasonable ground. Every few minutes some sort of flotsam, eg rice bags or other rubbish would foul the dinghy's propeller and stall the engine. Down into the dinghy we would climb, clear the rubbish, and set off again. A nice little breeze sprang up from the SE and off we sailed. We made about 30 miles all up and were relieved that we were finally clear of Sunda Strait. Now all we needed was the seasonal SE and we could sail all the way North. Again we were foiled. Now we found ourselves in a small box bounded by oil wells and their associated very fragile apparatus to the north east, east and south east. Reefs and small islands were to our west, and we were also in a major shipping lane. Many ships passed us but wouldn't answer our calls. Tugs often appeared at night with tows that weren't lit - they often passed within 50 metres of us and we had no propulsion to avoid them. None would answer calls on the radio. The oil rigs and their tenders wouldn't answer. So we drifted waiting for our breeze. At frequent intervals over the next week squalls would generate and blow down upon us - never from the SE or SW. We hove-to on numerous occasions to slow our progress downwind onto either reefs or islands. When we could we would try to track through the oilfields - every time it appeared that we might make some distance to the east - the wind would drop out. At one stage we managed to get some signal on our mobile phone and got in touch with our friend Harun on Pulau Belitung. We needed a tow - could he arrange it?? He said he would try. He asked us to reconsider our destination and instead head for Jakarta. At that time we were about 70 miles direct line to Jakarta and this seemed a reasonable idea as we were not making any progress northward to Belitung. Harun said that he had spoken to Batavia Marina in Jakarta and they would see if they could arrange a tow for us. Time continued to march on and finally, late one afternoon, we were again bearing down on a series of reefs some 4 miles away at 1-2 knots. We saw the formation of a squall line and this time we decided to try and make it to the SE and Jakarta. The squall hit with a fury and continued to pound us with high winds and driving rain throughout the rest of the night. Visibility was down to almost nothing, Libby sat below with the radar on trying to pick out rigs and focussed on the plot on the electronic charts while calling headings for me to steer to. It was a wild and crazy night, with high boat speeds in near blackout conditions, through an oil field, with the odd reef thrown in for good measure. Looking out ahead through the cockpit windows all I could see was splattered images of yellow and white lights in inky black through the rain pouring down the windows. Neither Libby or I got any sleep that night. The breeze dropped out about 0500 next morning and so did we....totally exhausted and around 30 miles in a straight line from Jakarta. I don't know how many miles we covered that night, most of it was reckoned off the plotter charts. I remember frequent twists and turns as we blindly snaked our way through the oil fields past rigs and platforms. When light came we were to the west of a group of islands and surrounded by small trawlers and long line boats. None would come near us. Around 1000 that morning I managed to again get in touch with Harun and update him on our progress. He told me that he was not having much luck with getting local boats to tow us, but the Harbour Master in Jakarta was prepared to send a tug to tow us and the cost would be $5,000. Woah, too much and an overkill at that, so we said no to that option. He suggested we try to get a small local boat to help. As luck would have it, shortly afterwards, a local fishing trawler happened our way. Many had come close before and no matter how much we waved or called, they ignored us. This time I grabbed our emergency air horn and let go a few strident blasts. They came over to us and we tried to ask (read beg) for a tow to Jakarta. They couldn't understand. I rang Harun and he negotiated a deal for us to get them to tow us to Jakarta for $500.00. Ok, we were off, 40 metres stout tow line and about 5 knots behind our rescuers. One hour later we stop - worried looks from the fishing boat - whats wrong?? Much agitation and shaking of heads when we said and pointed toward Jakarta. I rang Harun and asked him to talk to them. They were worried that the Police and Coast Guard would arrest them. We tried to allay their fears as best we could and finally we set off again. I kept our plotter on as I was worried they may try to tow us over too shallow an area for our draft. They held a really accurate course and I began to suspect that in that old wooden boat they had a plotter - I was to later discover that it was the case. Just on dark we approached a huge fish farm area spread over many acres that had thousands upon thousands of bamboo poles driven into the bottom at close intervals to make up fences. Through this area, although up to 7 metres deep, were very narrow access channels. Our rescue boat blithely towed us though these channels in gathering darkness - us with our hearts in our mouths.
Approaching the area in Jakarta harbour where the Batavia Marina is sited, I called the marina manager and asked for directions. They were not clear and neither us or the fishing boat crew were happy to continue as yet another squall had come up, the water shallowed off alarmingly, and we were all tired. The fishing boat stopped and through hand signals, indicated we were anchoring for the night. They anchored and we hung off their stern by our tow rope. Very, very happy about that decision - first night of safe sleep in days. Next morning up early to find the guys on the fishing boat ready to go. Libby and I had discussed their payment and the problem we had was that we only had about 1.5million Rupiah. They wanted 5million. We had 500 US dollars, but Harun said they probably wouldn't accept it and would want Rupiah. Libby and I were also concerned that we weren't paying them enough as they had missed a whole day of fishing. We decided to give them 700 dollars. Within minutes of appearing on deck they fired up the fishing boat and we were off yet again. The entrance to the marina is quite shallow and need to be taken at half tide or better. The fishing boat stopped near the entrance to the channel and we dropped our anchor - they stayed tied up to us and stated they wanted 10 million. I said no way, they had only asked for 5. The negotiations continued until we got to 7 million or 700 dollars. They said they were happy and so were we. Libby gave them some blocks of chocolate that brought out more smiles and, after one small collision with us that removed part of their gunwhale, they departed with big smiles and waves all round. We decided to jump in the dinghy and do a recon of the marina entrance and our berth. We met the berth manager, Mr Putu, had a coffee with him, looked at our berth and made plans to go in just on dark. On the way back in the dinghy I decided to check the depth in the berth using our hand held sounder. As I was doing this, the marina workboat appeared and I pointed to several lines that were tied across the berth and indicated we would be coming in later and needed them removed. Off we went back to the boat - no sooner had we arrived than the workboat appeared ready to tow us in. I couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth and so hussled Libby to get the anchor up while I secured the tow. In we went, a good 2-3 hours before I thought the tide would be right. We saw 00 metres on the depth sounder a few times along the way but the bottom is obviously so silty we didn't bump. At 1400 we were secure in our berth and the nightmare over. We owe a big debt of gratitude to our friend Harun without who, we may still be sitting out is the Thousand Island Group drifting or piled on a reef.