Halfway Around the World

Screen Shot of Our Chart Plotter as We Crossed Our Halfway Around the World Way Point

In late 2010, as Ruthie, Corie and I were in the final throes of preparation to cross the Pacific and head for points further west, occasionally someone would ask how long we anticipated we might be gone. "Three or four years," I would say, shocking the person asking the question. Who goes traveling for three or four years? It's rare that someone goes for three or four months and even three or four weeks can be seen as a lengthy trip amongst many people. Our present passage across the Indian Ocean is where we have crossed our halfway mark - 062°46.17' East. I calculated this coordinate based on the longitude that's printed on the cocktail napkins at the San Diego Yacht Club. Who would have thought that a cocktail napkin would be the source of information for a navigational computation? Granted, we're not at SDYC's antipodal - we'd have to travel almost 1,500 miles south from here to reach the exact opposite side of the world to do that and there's some very rough water down there.

So, our trip is longer than planned. Amongst our cruiser friends who are also on the Round the World route, we're going much too fast as we've only been gone 4 years, 5 months and 17 days. There are cruisers who have spent that much time in Southeast Asia alone and quadruple that for their own RTW route. There is so much to see and so much we have missed that often when we're making a decision about what we will see and what we won't, we kiddingly say that we'll see the missed sights on our next time around. Our perspective on time has certainly shifted - while in Southeast Asia, time was divided by the monsoons and now that we're heading to the higher latitudes of the southern hemisphere, we once again concern ourselves with the traditional four seasons.

If we're now halfway around the physical world, does that mean it will take us another 4 years, 5 months and 17 days before we get back to San Diego? That's hard to say. This year will see many miles under Rutea's keel while last year saw virtually none. We should be in Madagascar by early June and we'd like to be in South Africa by July, however, we'll be transiting the Mozambique Channel in the beginning of the southern hemisphere's winter and it has a nasty reputation even in the best months. Still, we know of people who did it last year and there's excellent weather forecasting available so we're optimistic. If things go according to plan, we'll fly home in August (hopefully visiting our son in the UK first) and then return to South Africa in November.

This passage has been good so far but the winds have been very light and we have a very limited amount of fuel. Our criterion for starting the engine is if our speed drops below 3 knots per hour and it's entirely possible that we might have to adjust that down even more. On the other hand, our weather router for this passage has warned us that we will need to brace ourselves for the high winds that are usually found around the northern tip of Madagascar. It might be uncomfortable but at least we should make good time. The weather now is fine - hot to be more specific - the Indian Ocean is a deep sapphire blue, the sky bright blue spangled with puffy white clouds.

This lifestyle still appeals to me. The people we've met, the friends we've made, the places we've seen, and even the long passages at sea have made durable memories that are my treasure. Rutea remains incredibly solid and her systems continue to function well albeit with the occasional hiccup but that's part and parcel to cruising. Our expectations have been exceeded. We journey on, confident in our ship and ourselves.
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At 5/27/2015 2:49 PM (utc) Rutea's position was 08°59.58'S 062°34.63'E

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Arrival!

We actually arrived at the entrance to the lagoon at about midnight but only a fool would try to enter without broad daylight. So we hove to until about 0730 when we felt the sun was high enough so we could spot the coral heads. With Ruthie at the helm and me perched on the bow, I was supposed to be our 'google eyes' that would hopefully prevent us from wrecking Rutea on a coral bommie. Our anchorage was to be about three miles away and we were eager to get our hook down as it had been something of a challenging passage. I had no problem with running the engine at normal cruising RPM and we were making good time in the flat water. I suddenly saw the water starting to shallow and a split second later a bommie appeared right in our path. "RUTHIE!", I shouted, "HARD RIGHT!" Ruthie spun the wheel quickly and we were able to miss an almost certain disaster by a few feet.

We're no strangers to bommies. After much time in the South Pacific and more recently in the Maldives, I think we're pretty good at spotting them. Perhaps it was still too early in the morning to have a good view but this bommie wasn't apparent until we were almost right on top of it. We slowed the engine to a speed barely above idle and picked our way across the rest of the lagoon.

Nine other boats were anchored here already, a couple of them known to us. The choice of spots to drop the hook was terrible as the bottom is solid coral. Sure, you might be able to get the anchor to hold (but, then again, you might not) but retrieving the anchor that's well-hooked on a big piece of coral might take putting on the scuba gear, diving down to free it or just abandoning the anchor altogether.

The islands are thickly covered with palm trees and a thin strip of sand separates the water from the trees. The water does not have the visibility that we were used to in the Maldives but I have been able to see several large reef sharks from Rutea's deck, which is always a good sign.

Not only were we tired from lack of sleep for the last three days but the weather is extremely hot and humid (one of my favorite bumper stickers reads "I know Hell is hot - but is it humid?"). We took it pretty easy, only doing the chores that were absolutely necessary to get the boat out of the passage mode and into anchorage mode. Sundowners were on a nearby boat and once back on Rutea, deep sleep came easily.

Still Underway

Our breeze held up almost all day yesterday and we made good time except for a strong east-setting current which took us far off course. We were hard on the wind the entire day which can be tiring but at least we were able to sail. Things got quieter at night and the squalls were less severe than they had been. I think we're getting better at dodging them.

This morning is glorious and we're able to make almost 4 knots per hour in slightly over 7 knots of breeze. The seas are a little lumpy but we're in good spirits and everything is working well. Our fleet has spread out quite a bit but we still have a visual on our friends on Merkava.
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Uhderway from the Maldives

There was one topic that dominated the conversation amongst us three boats: The Weather. Everyone cited the details from a different website and soon Analysis Paralysis set in and it was difficult to make a decision. On one hand, the day was beautiful and there was a gentle breeze from the northwest, which was ideal. On the other hand, a couple of websites showed heavy convection activity right in our path. First one boat called and said, "We're leaving!" and it wasn't long after that that another boat pulled up their anchor. We soon followed.

As we left the atoll, the seas were quite lumpy but it smoothed out as we got further away. The sky looked like it was promising a fair day - until about 4 hours later when dark clouds with flat bottoms developed right in front of us. We tucked two reefs in the main, furled the genoa altogether and deployed the staysail. The squall struck quickly and the wind reached 27 knots. Heavy rain fell but we had put up one side of our cockpit enclosure so we were staying dry. The seas got lumpy all over again. We had to hold on tight for about a half hour and then we were able to unfurl the genoa.

The wind held up from the west and we were able to make some decent time. Day turned to night and we settled in for our night watch routine. It was close to midnight when another squall formed, sucking up all the wind and leaving Rutea to wallow. Not wanting to face a squall without some propulsion, we started the engine. The radar was showing a large line of activity heading straight for us and there was going to be no way to avoid being hit. So I thought, Why not just turn right into it and get through to the other side as quickly as possible? Big mistake. We made a 90-degree turn into the squall but the squall stalled and grew. The radar kept showing that we were right in the center of the squall, with torrential rain and winds to 37 knots but no matter how hard we tried, we stayed in the center of the damn thing. The wind was now coming across our port side and we had no enclosure coverage there. I was steering by hand and the rain was hitting me so hard that it stung. Forget seeing the radar screen, I could barely see the compass right in front of my face. This lasted for almost an hour and for the first time in many months I started to feel a chill as my clothes were completely soaked through and my fingertips looked like prunes.

We are now making some progress but we're almost 30 miles off course. There's another squall that's bearing down on us so I'd better go help Ruthie.

All is well on board.
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At 4/10/2015 3:24 PM (utc) Rutea's position was 00°40.58'N 073°11.87'E

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Maarehaa, Maldives

At anchor off Maarehaa Island with Arigaththaa Island in the background

As our stay in the Maldives draws to a close, we once again are amazed at how quickly the time has gone.  We’ve had our cruising permit extended once and even though we’d like to stay longer, weather patterns in the Indian Ocean are starting to change and in order to maximize our comfort and safety, we must move on.  Despite our minimal contact with locals (visiting local islands was prohibited by the Maldivian government in 1980 and only rescinded in 2008), we have experienced random acts of kindness that we’ll never forget.  Like the one time we were coming back from a snorkel and men on a fishing boat that was anchored not too far from Rutea were waving wildly at us.  Not sure if we had done something wrong or if they wanted something from us, we pulled our dinghy along side.  They handed us a very nice, fresh snapper.  “Wait,”  I protested, “I have no money.”  No, no, they gestured, it’s a gift.

Pakia Tea

Merkava

We have been traveling with a delightful group of other boats and we have become very close friends.  Two of the boats are from Austria, one from Germany, one from Canada and one from the UK.  There’s one 3-year old who has stolen everyone’s heart and he has taken quite a fancy to Ruthie.  He prefers to speak German but patiently speaks English with Ruthie and has the understanding of the difference.  I ask him from time to time how to say things in German and offers translations without begrudging me.  His parents are both marine biologists and it couldn’t be better than to have experts in these islands and atolls with such rich marine life.

Our little fleet gathers frequently for ‘sundowners’ or a game of Mexican dominoes.  For evening libations, we’ll often gather on Rutea’s foredeck which has been renamed The Bow Bar.  Sometimes we play Mexican Dominoes on board but everyone’s favorite place to play is aboard Pakia Tea, as they have a large dining room table in between the two hulls of their catamaran.  While there’s never much of a breeze here, it’s by far the most comfortable place to play in this merciless heat.

Moorish Idol Zanclus cornutus

One way to escape the heat is to get in the water, even though it hits 95˚F at times.  The snorkeling and diving are some of the best anywhere in the world.  I am not an avid diver but most of the people in our ‘fleet’ are very active divers and I’m often invited.  The water is still warm at depths of up to 90 feet so no wet suit is necessary.  As with many places we’ve visited, much of the coral is dead but at least there are many places where the coral is showing signs of regrowth.  The lack of sharks is worrisome as they’re one of the best indicators of a healthy reef and their absence is a sign that there’s a long way to go until reefs have fully recovered.

White Tipped Reef Shark Triaenodon obesus

Rainbow Runners Elagatis bipinnulata

Tonight we’ll make our final passage in the Maldives and we’ll probably cross the equator at around midnight.  Silly, but we’re all hoping that once we get south of the equator, it will start getting cooler.

Spotted Eagle Ray Aetobatus narinari (Ruthie took this photo from the deck in about 20' of water)

Faanu Mudugau, Maldives

Rutea on the left, at Fussaru Reef.  Photo by Mark Aisbett

Many of the countries we have visited have had a theme or purpose.  My recollection of American Samoa, for example, was mostly about provisioning.  The overriding theme in Indonesia was the rally in which we participated.  The year-long stay in Thailand seemed to be mostly focused on boat repairs.  Our cruise through the Maldives is all about being in the water.  Not so much being in the boat in the water but swimming, snorkeling and diving in the water.  For a good reason, too, as the water has some of the most spectacular visibility of any I’ve seen anywhere.  Brilliantly colored fish call the reefs their home and don’t seem to mind sharing it with us.  The water also provides a brief respite from the unrelenting heat – we’re just a few degrees north of the equator and it just never cools off here.

Oriental Sweetlips

This 470-nautical mile long archipelago has over 1,100 islands (only a small fraction are inhabited) and probably many times that in reefs.  As with many places we’ve visited, the coral has lost most of its color but, at the same time, there’s evidence of the coral regenerating.  Many claim that the loss of coral is due to global climate change and that it could have a catastrophic environmental impact.  The reefs rise abruptly from impossible depths to just below the water’s surface, changing the water’s color from a royal sapphire blue to a pastel blue to a gin-clear cover for the reef.  At a place we snorkeled yesterday, our underwater visibility was in excess of 30 meters.

Red-Tailed Triggerfish

The enormous depths between atolls can create wicked currents and the patterns on the water’s surface often belie what’s going on underneath.  These same depths can give us headaches when it comes to anchoring.  I dislike anchoring in depths that are too deep for me to dive down to free a fouled anchor and fouling an anchor on coral is always a possibility.

One of the highlights of our cruise through these stunningly-beautiful islands, atolls and reefs are the group of friends we’re traveling along with.  A lot of cruisers prefer to be by themselves but we’re really enjoying the company of our friends.  The Maldives are a popular destination for tourists and there are lots of resorts that cater to mostly European and Asian travelers but still it’s sparsely populated and this can make it seem desolate amongst the atolls.  I think I’d feel isolated and perhaps lonely if we weren’t with our friends.  A common routine for our little fleet, once we anchor in yet another outrageous lagoon, is to go snorkeling, then go back to our respective boats and then gather on one of our boats for evening cocktails.    The camaraderie that develops from these unique shared experiences is intense.  Fortunately, we’re a very like-minded group.

Rosie, Ruthie and Mark

Rutea is doing exceptionally well.  The maxim, ‘cruising on sailboats is nothing more than doing repairs in exotic ports’ has not been the case for us, at least not for the time being.  We still try to keep up with the continual maintenance but she remains a well-found vessel in which we have a tremendous amount of confidence.  This is the fun side of cruising – flat seas, clear water, good friends and all systems working well.

Malé, Republic of Maldives

We have recently returned to Rutea after what we hope is our final provisioning trip;  it’s late in the afternoon;  it’s very hot and I’m sipping a very refreshing margarita that’s jammed with big chunks of ice.  Earlier in the afternoon, we were given a large plastic bag of fish by some local fishermen who were prompted into their generous mood by our offer to give them the old batteries we were replacing.  To look at their faces, you might have thought they had just won the lottery instead of eight badly worn out golf cart batteries.  I’m sure the fish didn’t represent an extravagant gift on their part but it was a polite effort and the size of fish immediately made me think of fish tacos.  Hence the margaritas to go with them.  Several well-calculated stops at various duty-free shops in airports around the world have secured the necessary ingredients.

Presidential Residence

The national capitol of the Maldives is Malé and we’ve been anchored just outside of the city for the last 10 days.  While I wouldn’t call the city cosmopolitan, it does have a definite flair and cache – from time to time you’ll see a big, black Mercedes-Benz sedan with consular flags on the front fenders, something ironic in this city of mostly motor scooters and very narrow streets.  The city’s population is busting at the seams of this small island, in which you can walk from one end of the island to the other in less than an hour.  Many, if not most, of the people who work in the city live on another island called Hulhumalé, a man-made island that is also home to the international airport.  There are plans to build a bridge to connect the two islands but for now a fleet of ferries haul passengers, motor scooters, freight and the occasional cruiser back and forth.  The cost is 5.5 Maldivian rufia, or about US$0.33 each way and takes about 15 minutes.  The ferries hold about 100 passengers and about 20 motor scooters;  there are wooden benches where white plastic resin chairs have been screwed down, their legs cut off.  The ferries are always crowded.

 

Malé does not have any trendy shopping centers, upscale coffee shops or liquor stores but it does have very interesting markets where produce from all over the world is on display.  Being a nation of coral atolls, the Maldives cannot grow even the simplest crop with perhaps the exception being coconuts.  Everything is imported.  Fish is a big crop though and the wharfs are lined with 60’-70’ wooden fishing boats, low in freeboard and free of bulwarks from the midship aft.

 

The Maldives are a very devout Islamic nation and many stores close several times a day for prayers.  All stores close for the lunch hour and Friday is their day off.  Women who don’t wear a burqa or even a hajib are in the minority.  No one has said anything to Ruthie about not having her head covered but this country depends heavily on tourism so it’s unlikely anyone would actually say something.

Alas, our time in Malé draws nigh and we will miss this unique city.  We have enjoyed the restaurants, the amenities, the hustle/bustle that is often so contradictory to our cruising way of life.  There is much left to explore in the Maldives but the clock on our visas is ticking so we’ll soon weigh anchor and continue sailing the Indian Ocean.