AKAMA REPORT 15
13 January 2004
We made our way south and east between Sabah, The Philippines and
Indonesia. This area is reputedly very bad, full of pirates and other
undesirable sorts. The exact location of the border between Malaysia
and the Philippines (and in some cases Indonesia) is in some doubt,
which leads to the occasional skirmish. This is where a few years ago
some Philippine Abu Sayef guerrillas (they say they are separatists, but
they act more like terrorists and bandits) kidnapped a bunch of
tourists from a Malaysian resort island, and held them for ransom. We
ran through as quietly as possible, keeping well offshore, with running
lights extinguished, exchanging our observations and positions with
other yachts by coded waypoints. Nothing happened.
We filed our last report from The Sibutu Strait in the Sulu Archipelago
in the south-western Philippines, which is between the Sulu and Celebes
seas. The Sulu Sea lies between the Philippine Islands (on the west,
northwest, north, east, and southeast) and Borneo on the southwest. The
Celebes Sea is south and east of the Sulu Sea, bounded on the west by
Borneo; on the east by the Sangihe Islands; and on the south by the
Indonesian island of Sulawesi (Celebes).
Our run south through the Sulu Sea was a veritable sleigh ride, with a
following tide and favourable winds pushing us along. In the Sibutu
Strait, two currents meet, sometimes flowing smoothly and sometimes
bumping into each other in an incredible display of the force of nature.
We had planned for the former, but encountered the latter. Being in
the strait was like being in a washing machine; we were tossed back and
forth by eddies and confused currents. At one point AKAMA was pointed
nearly due east, but moving nearly due south. We had hoped to round the
corner entering the Celebes Sea to find favourable conditions, only to
be met with currents against us of up to two knots. According to our
research this was not supposed to happen.
The Celebes Sea is deep, dropping to 6,200 m (20,300 ft) at its lowest
point. Our depth sounder cannot cope with such depths and had to be
turned off to avoid false alarms. There are very few islands. One
would think that being so many miles from land, with the bottom miles
below, there would be no navigational hazards! Not so; the local
fishermen have installed FADs (Fish Aggregating Devices) here and there.
These are steel cylinders about the size of three or four 45-gallon
drums welded together (and some may indeed be so constructed), often
pointed on one end. They have no lights on them, and some float low in
the water, presenting a poor RADAR target. These are anchored to the
bottom (yes, two or three miles below) and serve to attract colonies of
fishes, which are harvested by hand lines. We are ever vigilant, as
running into the pointed end of one of these could hole the boat and
sink her, or at least do serious damage. Avoiding FADs, floating logs
and the like during the day is a simple matter of watch keeping. At
night it is more difficult. We set up an alarm zone on our RADAR, ahead
and about 20-degrees to either side. If anything comes into this zone
an alarm sounds. This might happen often if there are lots of waves.
False alarms usually sound for a moment or two and then go away on their
own. Floating logs, FADs and such present a constant alarm. We search
for the offending hazard using our night scope or stabilized binoculars
and steer around. We know of a few yachties that just plunge ahead
into the gloom, without RADAR, trusting fate; they have more nerve than
we have.
Other than the FADs, a passage through the Celebes Sea, for the most
part should be much like traversing a desert; there is nothing here.
AKAMA is on autopilot, the next land in our path is over 300-miles away
and we just look around, read, eat, and take turns sleeping. Our trip
started out that way, but the joy-ride across the Celebes Sea was
short-lived. On the night of 8 January we got rather beat up by the
weather. The forecast was for 10-knot winds from the ENE; perfect power
boat weather. By morning it was supposed to change to 15-knots, still
pretty good. What we got was 24-knots winds (with gusts over 30),
10-foot swells and steep wind waves, right on the nose. Some of the
waves were breaking and when we hit one of these we sometimes took spray
right over the pilothouse; that's over 17 feet above the water! This
instantly changed an easy passage to a very rough ride. It also
revealed a weakness in our navigation computer set-up. We had installed
the flat screen monitor on the chart table, choosing one with a good
heavy base, so it would not slide around. It didn't slide, it flipped.
As we came down off the top of a particularly bad wave, it did a sort
of somersault and smashed itself against the keyboard. LCD screens
cannot take this sort of punishment and it died instantly. Fortunately,
Maurice was able to hook up our old laptop in its place. Due to this
bad weather we have pulled into a town called Tahuna on P. Sangihe,
Indonesia (3d 36.6'N by 125d 28.4'E.
We were not the only ones in this state. Two Australian boats,
SAMPAGUITA and HARMONY-88 both pulled in here, one just before us and
one after. Two more Aussie boats, SELKIE and MUSCAT battled it out and
got here about 10-hours after we did. We're glad to have the company,
as we know all these people and have been in contact with them by radio
throughout the trip (and we know them from stays at marinas). More
importantly, we are not supposed to enter Indonesia without a permit
(called a C.A.I.T), so having company is really good. So far, the
authorities are favourably disposed to us taking refuge here, although
they want, endless paperwork, and some want "gifts" and "administration
fees".
When life dishes out lemons you make lemonade. We have filled with
diesel, as we used a bunch pushing into the weather for a day and a
half. Next fuel is about 2000 miles away (we've got over a 3000 mile
range in smooth seas). We've also visited this delightful village,
where cruising boats don't call; indeed we have not seen any other white
people. The locals are very friendly, especially the children who are
completely uninhibited. Half the town come out every day in the late
afternoon, hoping to have a chat with the three or four words of English
that they know. The children can be rather bold and want to come onto
the boat, as do a few of the adults. Everyone here seems very happy,
and not destitute, as we've seen in many other island communities. If
there is a down-side, it is in too much familiarity breeding contempt;
we had a fender stolen. To get it, someone had to climb the anchor
chain to the foredeck, several metres above the water, creep along the
foredeck, untie the fender and make off with it. We've re-stowed the
remaining fenders inside the Portuguese bridge.
We went ashore the other night to a restaurant called the Marina Coffee
House where we celebrated Philip's (a fellow yachtie) 50th Birthday. We
had a fabulous Indonesian feast. Some of the restaurant owners' family
provided live music for us so we had a great time singing and dancing.
The water here is very clean and clear. There are reefs nearby for
diving and snorkelling, but no dive shops. There are virtually no
tourist facilities, albeit there are a few hotels. One has to wonder
why the Government of Indonesia has not put more emphasis on tourism.
This whole area, like the rest of SE Asia is a great, untapped tourist
paradise.
In other news, Maurice has become a godfather...of an autopilot that is.
One of the boats travelling with us, HARMONY, blew her autopilot. The
owners, Graham and Sylvia, were considering turning back, as an
autopilot is indispensable on any long trip. They brought it over to
AKAMA and after a bit of study and a few tests, Maurice was able to
jury-rig it to work acceptably well. One of the field effect
transistors was shorted and Maurice was able to pull one out of a
non-essential circuit and substitute it for the blown one. Yachties
frequently name their autopilots, as they can be likened to having
another crew member aboard. HARMONY's autopilot has been renamed
"Maurice".
Boat Leaks: It seems that boats, including AKAMA are forever springing
leaks. These are usually rain leaks, above the waterline. It's a
continual battle. We fixed most of them a year ago, by removing most of
the deck rails and re-bedding them with 3M-5200, perhaps the world's
best bedding compound/sealant/adhesive. Recently, we developed more
leaks, which were fixed by simply tightening some screws. We blush to
report the worst of the bunch was self inflicted. We recently installed
air horns atop the pilothouse. The thing is, if air comes out of air
horns, it follows that water can come in. And it does. Of course this
revelation is based on 20-20 hindsight, after having cups of water
mysteriously show up on the helm station after each rain. How the rain
travels first sideways to enter the horn and then uphill to pass through
the orifice will remain a mystery. The quick fix was some Saran Wrap
and elastic bands; a more permanent fix will follow...eventually.
Our web site (www.nunas.com) now has some selected photos of our voyage
on it. They are only 300 pixels wide, so they will not tax your
internet bandwidth. Have a look and tell us what you think. Later on,
Kyle has promised to add links to more detailed versions of the photos,
for those unlimited bandwidth types who like their photos in great
detail.
As we send this, we are on our way eastward from Tahuna, towards Helen
Reef (Pulau) 2d 53'N by 131d 46'E. That is about 400-miles from here and
the trip will take three to four days. |
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