exchange rate 5.3 (ATM) Seychelles Rupees to US$1
exchange rate 7.75 (Black Market) Seychelles Rupees to US$1

Fr 7/2/99 - Victoria, Mahi Island, Seychelles

A long time ago, mid-eighties, my workmate and lunch buddy Ray Roberts was somewhat fixated on a archipelago called the Seychelles somewhere in the Indian Ocean. It was a preserved mid-ocean wonderland of over a hundred islands, few inhabited, with sparkling beaches and sea, and unique species of animals. The Seychelles then became a reoccurring lunchtime conversation theme for years, and when I came across articles and programs on the Seychelles my ears and eyes perked. Finally I was told stories by Peter Prynn who visited many times and then Seychelles became more of an obsession.

Of the 115 islands, divided into five groups, the four main islands are granite - Mahi, and nearby Praslin, La Digue, and Silhouette, the others are coral atolls. The Seychelles are well known for their perfect granite boulder strewn sand beaches and clear blue water, some say the best in the world.

The Seychelles were first visited by Arabs then Portuguese, ruled by the French then the British, and obtained independence in 1976 as a republic to the Commonwealth. The period up to 1991 was fraught with internal struggle for power with coups, bombings, and murders. Besides the turmoil, the Seychelles was also an outpost visited by spies from both sides of the cold war, international political intrigue Ian Flemming may have written about when he visited.

Of the 75,000 people that inhabit the Seychelles on 150 of the islands, 65,000 reside in Mahe alone. The only city, Victoria (pop 27,000), is on Mahe is also the capital. The people are a mix of African, European, Indian, and Arab and supposedly the percentages of these lineage are not possible since many Seychellois are very promiscuous.

The Air Seychelles plane crossed the equator into the Southern Hemisphere and arrived Victoria at 4am, six hours flight time and minus four hours clock time from Singapore.

I hit the visitor information window, coming away with one map and a dreaded reassurance of the costs here, then immigration, baggage pickup, and passed through the "nothing to declare"  aisle and into the real world of the Seychelles.

I tensed for the coming high costs of the Seychelles.

A taxi to the only city in the country, Victoria, costs 60 rupees ($12) for a 10 kilometer ride so I opted to wait for the first bus (3 rupees) at 6am.

I noticed a young blonde women waiting for her baggage while I was in line for immigration and realised she was about the only twenties-ish western person I've seen about the quiet airport. Outside I asked her if she was taking the bus or a taxi, maybe we could share a ride. But the French  girl with a strong accent wasn't sure were she was going, something quay, she hadn't been to the Seychelles before and I wasn't much help. The strange long narrow bundle she wheeled was a windsurfing sail and more interestingly she was meeting her parents aboard their catamaran  (two hulled boat). Wow, that would be something, getting aboard a sailboat as a guest or even a hand. She decided on a taxi, I walked to the chairs outside the sidewalk restaurant to await the bus

I sat and talked to a Floridian working for his PhD at the University of Massachusetts, Boston. Long stringy hair, glassy, a bit geaky and nervous, he is a marine biologist here for three weeks doing research, and on his way back to Boston. We talked about coral, how it has been bleached around the world from the global ocean warming. He specifically mentioned places hard hit including the Seychelles, Palau, and Belize. Re-establishment of the coral to previous state will take twenty years. I asked that he have clam chowder and lobster for me back home and went to search for the bus stop.

The darkness was lifting as I walked out of the small terminal area and to the east was a great sunrise, streaks in shades of purple and pink. The bus sat across the street at the stop and as it left I waved and the driver stopped again. As I boarded I passed him a 50 and glanced the length of he packed bus at sixty dark faces looking back. All of the small seats were taken, the aisle was narrow, and as carefully as possible I brushed by people half way down and slowly managed to turn myself to face forward. It was the rush hour for work I suppose. I stood there and tried to command  my leaning and swaying body away from people for the half hour drive to the main terminal. No comments were directed to me, the bus was quiet, and only after reaching the terminal a man came to the rescue and assisted with directions to the cheapest listed hotel.

The listed rate for the Hilltop is 175 rupees per person, $35 dollars, an exorbitant amount to pay while backpacking, the most I've ever obligated myself for, but there was little choice.

I talked with Marie Antionette, owner of Hilltop and the Marie Antionette Restaurant. Marie is a big fun talking old women with black sagging eyes and a leather brace on the bad leg she limps on. An Indian women raised in Seychelles, she has eight daughters - one married an Englishman, one an  Austrian, and the other six to Germans. Seven live abroad, the other separated from her English husband who lives in Germany while she returned home. Two sons also live in Seychelles.

I then sat and talked with a blazing blue eyed man from Bombay, a Muslim and granite salesman trying to start business in the Seychelles. We talked about granite and he pushed India as a travel destination for me in an accent I sorted through in waves.

Late in the morning I escaped all the talking and walked down the hill and into the town for a reconnaissance mission. First stop was the tourism board, and with the map I was given I saw that the Seychelles Yacht Club was close by and I thought of the French girl and her family catamaran.

Nearby I bought curry lamb and rice at the take-away (20 rupees, $4), unfortunately the cheapest way to eat in Victoria. I then sat outside near a German girl named Doris working on her thesis in tourism, here for seven weeks. We talked for an hour, I hadn't much to do and felt a bit isolated from humanity by travelling here alone, and I received more scoop on the islands.

I then strolled to the small Seychelles Yacht Club with a little wharf area and boats moored off it. I passed the signs "members only", walked between a dozen or so white tables where people were eating, saw the French girl sitting with her family at the railing, and headed straight for the end of the deck to look over the harbor and plot a strategy, nervous of being tossed out of the club.

Next to me was a well tanned older women with short dark hair and a friendly look. I caught her eye and she smiled, so far so good. I was nervous of being asked to leave and wanted to look as if I belonged. I asked if she was a member, with a thick French accent - well, nooo, I am here on my boat. The  conversation went on - she was with her husband, they were from Reunion, an island 1000 km south, and are cruising the Indian Ocean. Did she have an idea for a crew spot? Yes, there were a couple of boats, one with a man named Christopher who was sailing south to Madagascar. By the time I left, I was feeling very good about life. I had good conversation with people in the hotel, I met a German who may be one to hang with, and now I have met Ann-Marie and her husband France-Marie and looked forward to meeting their contacts. I was to return at 6pm, the time when yachties are about socialising.

My mind spun with the idea of sailing the Indian Ocean, the  motivation twofold - to experience offshore sailing ("blue water"!) and to simply have a piece of the sailing life I've been missing back home.  I had been in the Seychelles for just hours and I may leave within a couple of days. I would have to come back to see these islands and that would be an issue, maybe another airline ticket, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity.

I ran into Doris again, made plans to meet tomorrow at a beach  across the island from Victoria called Beau Vallon, then went back to yacht club a 6pm to meet Christopher and his mate Helen.

Chris and Helen are sailing Chris's 40 foot catamaran that he bought in Thailand. He's spending a year sailing to Cape Town. Helen joined Chris in the Chagos, a remote and very protected archipelago to the 1000 miles east of the Seychelles.

I sat with Chris, a balding red hair man with a quick smile, pleasant manners, and warmth about him. He explained the plan - to arrive Madagascar by July 28th in time to meet his girlfriend, and to visit some of the Seychelles outer islands as they sailed southwest. Being remote, the islands are pieces of the world that few people chance to see, superb atolls with unique wildlife and pristine beaches and very good diving.

The boat is a four year old South African  (Saldanha Bay) made Deen 40 catamaran with four berths and three heads. Sailing a catamaran would be unique for me, and simply because of it's design as a catamaran,  it should be a fast and fun boat.

I was dumbfounded. I had prepared to sign up with Chris and Helen for a few weeks of sailing to Madagascar, I didn't know that the Seychelles outer islands were on the way and that diving was also on the agenda. So let's think of the potential - sailing bluewater on a 40 foot catamaran, island hopping, and diving through the Indian Ocean along the Seychelles outer islands to Madagascar. Okay think - none needed - I wanted in!!

Chris(topher) Besse says he is French and now a physician in England - well, that's how he introduced himself for simplicity, as time went on I would find out more about this man and his thoroughly interesting life. Helen Palmer is an ex-British naval reservist, a geology major with an advanced degree in landscape architect, from northern London, St. Albans. She had been working in Malaysia where she started crewing on a different yacht.

Ann-Marie and France-Marie were also at the club, and I also met an older new Zealand couple named Rod and Betty, and a Kiwi named Scotty who offered me a position aboard his ketch and told of a paid crew position aboard an 80 foot motorboat called Southern Cross heading to the Mediterranean and on to North America via the Red Sea. Although he owns a yacht, he was considering the position for the experience. No, I would rather sail and dive.

So I socialised and talked in detail with Christopher and Scotty about the positions on the upcoming trip - they were both heading for Madagascar. Chris explained that the Seychelles outer islands extend to the southwest, a series of groups of islands, some of the most remote in the world, with unique sea and land life. Hey, I was happy with considering the sailing experience, throw in the cool captain and first mate, the pristine remote atolls, and the diving - I was very happy with the upcoming possibilities.

I asked Chris about expenses on my part, only food, a straight $15 a day and I would share the work load. I would have my own cabin, and he had all the dive equipment needed with a compressor. Gee, how can I express myself - yahoo! I told him I would take the spot if all went okay up to departure, and that was within the next two days, dependant on weather. Psyched!!

Sa 7/3/99 - Victoria, Mahi Island, Seychelles

In the morning at the Hilltop I spoke with an Israeli guy who was vacationing from his job in Nigeria. He had worn two East Africa T-shirts and I started our conversation there (Nairobi, Kilimanjaro, Ngorogoro Crater), and then went into details on lodging and beaches on nearby Praslin and La Digue. The information was specific and very helpful and included heads-up details like the dangers of Narobi.

I was late to meet Doris now, but still wanted to walk up and over the steep hill to Beau Vallon instead of taking everyone's recommended bus - wimps I thought. The walk was steep, especially right from the Hilltop, then I joined the main road to crest the pass and venture down the far side. The road here was tight switchbacks without room for pedestrians so I crossed the road countless times to the outside curves since cars float to the inside, but I enjoyed the walk. Forty-five fast paced minutes later I arrived sweaty at Georgina's Guest House to met Doris.

The guest house is opposite on the beach road, we walked five minutes to a good section of beach, my first beach here  in the Seychelles, sat and swam and talked non-stop then ate pizza nearby at Baobob Pizzeria. Doris's English was rough and at times I would tire, but she was happy to have company and the energy expenditure must have been greater more her.

Late in the afternoon we strolled the beach to a fancy hotel to meet a second German girl who Doris met on the plane flight from Hamburg, also in tourism. While Judith showered we waited by and in the pool of the international hotel, wonderful to feel fresh water wiping the salt away.

The three walked back toward Georgina's so Doris could then get ready - women - and as we waited I checked out the enormous spiders in the electric and telephone wires over the road. I switched to my longer lens in hope that the sunset would be decent, there was a big ketch sitting parallel to the shore, the sun would fall behind it, and in the distance was a high large looming island, Silhouette. Alas, before setting, the sun fell behind clouds. Later, though, the sky turned brilliant colors and three of us snapped away.

We decided on again Baobob Pizzeria on the beach for dinner, the girls choice, but I was okay with it, I would have pasta, but no, I ordered incredible smoked fish with salad and fries.

We walked down the beach afterward to the Bay Beach Resort and Casino, a restaurant, bar with band, and casino spot. Around 11pm the girls went back to their hotels and I walked back to Victoria over the hump, careful to avoid cars that could not see me well on the curvy dark road. This time I walked in the center of the road and kept a keen eye for cars in front and behind and repeated to myself, "Down left, up right", meaning if a car came down the road I would find safety by moving quickly to my left. In the haste of scampering left or right I didn't want to regress to the American roadway  system and choose the wrong side. The strategy would work well unless a cars came from both directions simultaneously.

Su 7/4/99 - Port Victoria, Mahi Island, Seychelles - 4 26 57 S, 55 29 84 E
 
I helped convince Doris and Judith to assist Scotty in the morning by translating a fax in German he received concerning boat insurance. When I arrived the yacht club before 1030a they were there and Chris sat at a table talking business with another man. With Helen and a new main we drove the dinghy to Hi Velocity, my first look at my potential ride to Madagascar.

Last year I measured, ordered, and replaced the sails on Dulcinea and from that experience I found that for a three sided piece of cloth, sails can be complicated and rarely fit properly when replaced. Had I been Chris I would have been screaming. He had waited three months since ordering the main from North Sails in Cape Town and now that it was finally here we found many things wrong - the cloth weight was lighter than the original sail, the luff ten inches too long, the mast slides too narrow, no telltales in the body of the sail, a broken baton, and three nylon blocks were the wrong diameter to fit screw-in slides.

Before I left the boat I asked Chris if I had the position and he confirmed - yes! - so I pushed only a little further and asked if I could move to the boat today and received another okay. That would put insurance on the position although I probably didn't need it, and would also save me from paying $35 a night at the Hilltop.

Helen seemed anxious to spend a few hours on the beach and I joined her for a bus trip to Beau Vallon.

Chris earlier asked if I wanted to eat with them at Lilly's, and I immediately replied yes - it would be good for some early camaraderie with Chris and Helen although I didn't necessarily want to spend bucks at a restaurant. But Lilly's wasn't a restaurant, she was Chris's nanny. I was puzzled - his nanny lived in Victoria, that must be an extreme coincidence, I was confused. I later learned that Lilly lived with Chris's family in Tanzania, Ethiopia, and France for 26 years.

Lilly's was great. She's an old and laughing Seychellois women married to Francois, a quiet non-English speaking man. Chris and Helen had visited and eaten with Lilly a number of times during the past month while around Mahe, and again she provided a huge spread including chicken and pork chops, veggies, and even pudding (dessert). I was all eyes in her home, it's literary full of kitsch knickknacks and non-matching floral furniture - a bronze guitar clock, a photo of the Queen, a framed cartoon map of the Seychelles, porcelain figurines, and so on. But this was her life, this made her home hers, possessions she bought and was given and proudly displayed through her own tastes. Very interesting and fascinating - imagine the stories behind these things.

Since Lilly was Chris's childhood nanny, I kidded through the meal that we had to hear some good stories of Chris's youth, which would be good ammo if needed later. Lilly never humoured me.

Mo 7/5/99 - Port Victoria, Mahi Island, Seychelles - 4 26 57 S, 55 29 84 E

I had spent my first night aboard Hi Velocity and I was quite please. Both Chris and Helen seem very pleasant and I have my own berth with a head (loo, bathroom) adjacent. Because the boat is a catamaran, there is a lot of room in the saloon (sitting area, navigational station) and on topside.

We were to sail today after modifying the boats immigration papers to add a crew member, but a southeast monsoon and a low  pressure area combined to kick up winds that beat up boats coming into and leaving Mahi - 40 kph winds gusting to 80 kph.

There are a few sources for weather information, but one stands out. In Kilifi, Kenya is a retired British officer named Tony, an overseer for the many yachts plying the waters of the Indian Ocean. He assists sailors by relaying important information, providing weather reports, and helping in emergency situations. Tony's weather report this morning called for high winds for the next three days then with a possible respite. I can control weather as well as the next guy and so I have to wait as well as the next guy. My thoughts - I don't want to sit around a harbor with tremendous islands to be had next door (Praslin and La Digue) and wait for a decision to move according to the weather. My original big plan was to make East Africa for the wildebeest migration which starts about June, well, adding Nepal to the itinerary moved the schedule out  month, now  the lure of blue water sailing, diving, and seeing outrageously beautiful isolated islands is irresistible. I guess I'll sit tight and hope for a good outcome.

Because I was leaving the Seychelles, I changed most of remaining rupees to US dollars (5.53 to 1) and then walked two blocks to change $150 to rupees (7.75 to 1) at a small merchant on the black market, a 40% difference. This would cover my first ten days with Chris. In changing the money, I softly asked if I could have "7.8" and the Chinese man looked nervously at two people still in the store and replied quietly, "wait". It was kind of fun, the first time I could take advantage of a black market in money, and this guy seemed spooked. He ran his calculation for me to see while I waited on the far side of a row of shelves, counted money with his hands in a drawer below his counter, and again looking nervous at the door, quickly handed me a wadded roll of rupees.

In 1976 the Seychelles obtained independence and became a republic within the British Commonwealth. A period of turmoil followed involving a military coup and a thwarted attempted coup staged by South Africans, and thus a couple of streets in the city center were named. I walked from the yacht club and up Independence Ave past the popular Pirates Arms to the silver clock tower in the middle of the intersection and turned right again on Albert St, the proper's main road. I walked past our black market money exchange and the large SMB grocery store and left onto Market Street. Market is for pedestrian traffic only, full of small stores and shops, just a short distance along is the ornate produce and fish market. A few blocks up into residences and a left turn, I then came across a fortunate picture - a group of boys and young men standing, sitting, and waiting for something around the street sign "Revolution Avenue".

After sneaking a picture, a boy yelled something - I was caught and so laughed and asked if I could take another, they agreed with varying gestures, and as I snapped a bus came to the stop twenty meters down the avenue. I made a silly sound and ran off and was laughed at.

And again I was at Beau Vallon. I swam and was tired so laid and tried to sleep but only rested. I met Doris and Judith for dinner at Lynn's restaurant, a funky English local who invited Doris to live with her in Lynn's gorgeous mountainside home with a view of the sea and Silhouette Island. After dinner Lynn sat to chat and introduced us to an older Italian man. This interesting man had worked logistics for cruise liners, with the tobacco giant R J Reynolds, and with Russian shipping companies, I was captivated by his stories. He invited the lot of us for dinner, real Italian spaghetti and I suspect good wine. To meal at another home in Mahe would be a good experience. I anticipated that we would hold off from leaving Victoria for at least another day due to strong seas, so I readily agreed to the invite.

I walked back over the hump again, arriving the yacht club 1030p and phoned Chris for a lift in his dinghy.

Tu 7/6/99 - Anse Majeuse, Mahi Island, Seychelles - 4 37 61 S, 55 22 89  E

I rose later than the others, 7am, fumbled around the kitchen again trying to find things, and ate granola cereal with powdered milk, plain bread with butter and marmalade, and a banana. Similar to moving from country to country or location to location, I will have to adjust the content of my food, that's part of what travelling is all about, it's sometimes annoying, but normally fun.

Chris, recently 42, was born in Aden (Yemen), raised in East Africa in a family of French hereditary, and attended boarding school in England. He attended Oxford for medical school, practised as a surgeon, turned chest specialist, then general physician. Lastly, he started a company now six years old with 400 personnel, a non-profit called Merlin Emergency Relief International which provides humanitarian aid in world crisis situations.

Chris has a friendly,  sometimes authoritative and knowing manner, and so appears older than his years. Born to an advantaged family, well educated and with an intellect, energy, and love for life, he's been around the world and full of interesting stories.

For a birthday gift last year, Sue and I drove to Chatham on Cape Cod and visited Sue's father's hard playing mate of a few years past Jim McDevitt. Jim sports a long handlebar moustache and smiled with a glint in his eyes as he remember rowdy times with Sue's dad. He pilots for American Airline, runs Chatham Airport and a pilot training company, and owns and pilots an vintage aerobatics biplane, a Pitts S2B. Both Sue and I were taken for a thrilling all-out aerobatics ride in the beautiful red craft, part of my present.

Afterward Jim told of a job he had in the Seychelles for a few months. He flew a twin engine from the States over Greenland,  Ireland, England, across Africa and into the middle of the Indian Ocean. He was hired to scout for illegal whaling in the tropical waters by the government and in his off time socialised with the locals in town. With the camaraderie Jim was convinced into shaving his handlebar moustache that was then placed on the wall in the bar. I searched the few possibilities in Victoria unsuccessfully.

In the afternoon Chris and I were walking down the dock and a very irate man trust an invoice in Chris's hand for using his mooring without permission. The incident provided the final precipitous for leaving Victoria

Hi Velocity sailed east from the harbor, north between Mahi Island and Ste Anne Island, and then around the top of Mahi. On shore were pretty white houses with red roofs sitting along the green mountainside with fabulous views.

I looked across the water. North 2,000 kilometres is Oman which abuts Saudi Arabia, ten days sailing east is the high acclaimed Chagos where Helen started with Chris, and 1,400 kilometers west if Tanzania.

1530: Heading: Wind: SE 20-25 SeaState: Lat:  Lon:  Sails: 1 reef main and genoa MilesToWayPoint: abeam Mahe

On the west side I was able to see Beau Vallon from the water, a different view of the beach I spent the last three days visiting and as I looked at the shore I telephoned Lynn to cancel my dinner date for the evening there.

The wind was howling in the open sea and even with the protection of the 900 meter peaks of Mahi, the wind was still a concern. We sailed past three possible anchorages, and turned back for the first, Anse Majeuse (Major).

1830: Heading: Wind: SE 20-25 SeaState: Lat: 4 37.61 Lon: 55 22.89 Sails:  MilesToWayPoint: anchored at Anse Majeue

Helen made a nice dinner of pork chops and veggies, my first meal at sea, but we became suspicious of the pork, the smell wasn't right, and tossed the meat away.

We 7/7/99 - Sailing between Mahi and Desroches, Seychelles

The refuge of Anse Majeuse was functional and very pretty. From the boat, beyond the blue water, were two small beaches wedged within a coastline of sea carved gray granite, coconut palms, and hearty trees and shrubs. The large islands of the Seychelles are well known for their beautiful beaches with granite, so I was particulary excited to see the details of these beaches.

I swam to the closer beach through very small clear jellyfish, similar to those found in Newport but these stung ever so slightly. I then picked through the coral and shells for twenty minutes then returned.

Photographs from an anchored boat are interesting, but the angle over the water is a bother. Beach photographs are sometimes better done from the shore or from a high vantage point. Since I had no helicopter and climbing the mast may have proven too difficult, I threw the two horsepower outboard onto the dinghy and buzzed to the larger beach. I had an interesting landing with the dinghy and waves, then played hide and seek with the sun, but I believe I was successful with picture taking.

Back at Hi Velocity I learned Chris was sick twice during the night from the pork, not a fun night. We all had taken a bite from our portions.

Chris set noon as our anchor away time for Desroches Island, hoping to cover the 123 nautical mile distance in twenty hours, arriving about 8am. Before leaving we lowered the main once more to reset two batons, then we were off, sailing south in blue water.

The impetus for this sail trip came from a simple yearning for a sail, the chance to see the outer Seychelles islands as only a yachtie can, to dive in a remote part of the world, and to find practical experience in blue water sailing. Thus far my total sailing experience has only brought me twenty miles offshore, to Nantucket island, and listening to tales of the deep blue ocean, such as trips between Newport and Bermuda, the huge seas and doldrums, have intrigued me.

Only one concern though - sea sickness. One time sailing Dulcinea I lost my oats over the side on a very rolly afternoon after a storm had passed, but many times I have felt nauseous, and so I was nervous. The first day, only a few hours of sailing, went fine, but with the excitement of being on the water again after nearly a nine month hiatus kept me on deck and looking about - the best medicine for seasickness.

We broke the helm work into two hour shifts - on helm (the autopilot is non-functional), standby, and off duty. My helm times were assigned as 4pm to 6pm, 10pm to midnight, and 4am to 6am. I was happy with the times, they would put me at the wheel for sunset and sunrise.

During the early afternoon Chris went below to make tomato, lettuce, cheese, and chutney sandwiches. They were good, I had two, and I wouldn't eat again for twenty four hours.

At 4pm Helen came off and I went on to helm. The sensation of moving along quite quickly for a sailboat, 7 to 8 knots in 20 to 24 knots of apparent wind on a beam reach, was thrilling. The sky was shared between clouds and sun, and the wind in my face as I sat in the starboard chair felt fine, we were on a starboard tack, nicely making way. Psyched!.

On the horizon and quickly coming at us from port were squalls, black clouds with a dark rain columns underneath. The speed with which they were blown to intersect our path was amazing, and the first that crossed sent a dousing over me. We sailed out the far side and the air cleared and I was wind dried.

A catamaran sails differently than a conventional monohull. With one hull the sea causes a rolling back and forth and a sizeable wave will crash the bow into a spray that will fly into your face. Hi Velocity doesn't roll much unless there is a large side swell, it jumps side to side as a wave passes underneath, and tends to hobby horse more than a monohull. That's all good, and bad. The sensation seems to throw an additional movement into the catamaran, one some people take dislike to, but nothing is free - the advantage of a cat is speed and some broad living space.

1825: Heading: Wind: SSE 18-23 SeaState: moderate swell Lat: 5 03.25 Lon: 54 46.09 Sails: 1/2 M and 1/2 G MilesToWayPoint: 76.9

At 6pm Chris was back on the helm again, and mistakenly I visited the loo below. I felt a bit queasy so returned afterward for air. The sunset, which was a dud, had passed and Chris needed to explain the workings of the safety harness. I fumbled to straighten the harness out and felt an inch more nauseous. Finally I had it on, it was dark, and Chris asked that I turn the cockpit light on. I stood at the console, bounced side to side, and my stomach rebelled at the unearthly movements. I hastily stumbled to the lee stern corner and watched the remnants of two salad sandwiches fly overboard and onto the steps. I felt better and heeded Chris's advise to lay down. Somehow I quickly fell asleep and the nausea abated.

The next day Helen explained she was also sick, twice, and that made me feel better somehow about the experience.

The shift changed again at 8pm, and at 10pm with my safety harness clicked in, I was in the captains seat and at the helm again. My stomach was empty and I felt good, in fact, my mind tingled with awareness - I was at the helm with cool black air blown into my face in the middle of the Indian Ocean, southern hemisphere, in very dark and turbulent water, the boat moving quickly and bouncing unpredictably in every direction.

Most captivating was the darkness that we moved through. The only lights in my black world were the few on the boat - the shy glow of the nav station from a crack in the curtain, four readouts backlit in soft white light above the cabin door, and the red-orange illuminating the magnetic compass just in front of the starboard wheel. Behind each hull was a torrent of white-blue wash with sparks of light - water lit by phosphorescence - that I found unusual and exciting. High at the top of the mast is a tricolor navigation light, I could see the white facing stern, and a piece of green and red to the sides. Above was a hole through clouds showing clear bright stars.

In total, there was actually very little light, especially beyond the cockpit. The horizon was a fuzzy blending of black ocean into dark gray sky, and the ocean was full of one to three meter waves and big chop although I could see none of it, so the boat jerked and bounced and plunged and rose - none of which could possibly be anticipated in the blackness, and if not for holding myself with a hand or bracing my body by foot I would have been tossed from the captains chair.

As I sat braced in the chair I checked the compass bearing and corrected to 240 degrees every ten seconds or so, and otherwise scanned the horizon for ships or something else interesting - I don't know what.

During the daylight, the helmsman also has the  responsibility of monitoring the two fishing lines dragging behind. Earlier we snagged one skipjack tuna that was returned since they aren't tasty.

But now, at night, the more interesting occupations were staring at the stars and watching the phosphorescence.

2020: Heading: 240 Wind: SSE 23 SeaState: Lat: 5 11.17 Lon: 54 35.36 Sails:   2 reefs main and 1/4 genoa MilesToWayPoint: 63.6

Chris came next on helm. I laid outside on a long padded seat while Chris steered, and I fell asleep. With Helen on helm, I moved inside to the long couch in the saloon and sleep more. At 4am I was helmsman again with only 2.8 nautical miles to go.
 

Th 7/8/99 - Desroches Island, Seychelles - 5 40 95 S, 53 40 23 E

With the strong wind and help from the tide, Hi Velocity made better time than Chris anticipated, so we arrived earlier than expected and in the dark. Already at Desroche, Chris earlier asked Tillerman to leave their anchor light at the mast top on for our reference, and that made finding our way to anchorage easy.

Within the hour we were searching for good bottom to anchor on and after two attempts Chris was happy with the holding, although we later found that the anchor sat in only sea grass and the boat held only on the weight of the 75 foot chain.

0335: Heading: Wind: SSE 20 SeaState: Lat: 5 36.99 Lon: 53 47.63 Sails:   2 reefs main and 1/4 genoa MilesToWayPoint: 5.3 Comment: Light of Pointe He'lene in sight

At 530am the boat was secured and the other two were in bed immediately, I laid and read and was also soon asleep.

0530: Heading: Wind: SSE 20 SeaState: Lat: 5 40.95 Lon: 53 40.23 Sails:   anchored MilesToWayPoint: Comment: anchored in weed and sand

At 10am I shuffled on deck and curiously noted an ocean roar although we sat in the lee of the island - we could here the surf from the far side of the island, it's only half a kilometer wide, strange, a testament to the southeast monsoon and choosing to anchor in the lee of the island. After a draining crossing, we moved slowly, eating breakfast and swimming and talking into the afternoon.

We anchored further offshore than necessary, about 500 meters, and the island from here is one long line of white and green. The sea to Desroches is flat and dark blue, a good anchorage, and is followed by additional layers of color and texture - white stretch of beach, the green border of the leafy scapvola (bwa manioc) bush, green frawns of coconut trees and below the blue sky the taller casuarine trees (a type of pine). These layers of nature stand before us left and right for a couple of kilometers only disturbed by a few facility buildings under construction at the boat landing area directly in front of us. Behind is endless ocean. To see any human activity around is a very long wait. Rod and Betty aboard Tillerman are a far few hundred meters north of us and there is no activity from tourists lodging at the expensive resort to the south within our view. We are very comfortable and quiet here.

Desroche, the eastern most island in the Seychelles' Amirantes group, does not have ferry service, it's remote, but it is one of the more than a dozen islands with a runway which serves the $500 a night hotel at the southern end. This quiet island and a half dozen others are managed by the government run company named Island Development Corporation (IDC). The hotel staffs twenty five people, and  IDC who maintains the island, in particular the robust coconut plantation for copra, employs eleven people here. So all told, with the hotel that runs sixty percent capacity,  there aren't very many people on this 6 km by 500 meter island.

We made a dinghy run to the island where we met Eric and Leslie Roest from Durban, South Africa, the couple managing the island for IDC.

About 3pm the three of us loaded up the dinghy for a snorkel east of us along the sausage shaped island. I spotted  three sea turtles, three lobsters, and a pretty cowry shell worth keeping for a present. I found a spot with a quantity of fish, but the coral was bleached and dead.

At 6pm Eric and Leslie came to the boat for a drink, which led to Chris's mixed pasta and white sauce dinner. Eric is an old salt, has sailed the world and has exciting stories to lend. He has a full head and beard of silver hair, a face wrinkled by adventure and age, but most memorable is the accent which is typically South African but with an inflection that raises his tone at sentence ends, reminiscent of a boy reaching puberty, and also with funny whistling sounds to annotate points. Leslie is quiet, a sparkle in her eye, reserved and also good witted.

Eric told a few good stories about how lazy the Seychellois can be, nepotism and corruption in the government but best are the sailing stories including one of Hurricane Hugo. Eric and Leslie were cruising through the Caribbean aboard their  snazzy 54 footer and were in St. Martin when Hugo struck. They removed everything on deck to shore including all running rigging and hunkered down with three doubled chain sets, six anchors in all to ride the storm. Winds reached 147 miles per hour, the hurricane lasted thirty six hours, a ear deafening rampage. Many charter boat customers simply cleared off the boat and didn't prepare them for the storm, and those, along with many other yachts came dragging there chains through the harbor toward Eric and Leslie's boat. In the fury Eric was in the water diving for the loose anchors ad throwing them away from their own anchor lines. They  mistakenly left the dinghy tied to the stern and saw it horizontal and spinning before it broke free. In the end only three boats in the harbor survived, including one with three 70 year old Swiss people, "I'd love to have a drink with you, but there's no alcohol left!". I was captivated.

Fr 7/9/99 - Desroches Island, Seychelles - 5 40 95 S, 53 40 23 E

I woke and leaned over onto my right side to peer outside the small port hole, the sky was a layer of dark cloud, then I fell onto my back and wondered why my head was so full of cobwebs. My Casio watch said 8:10am and I quickly rose, I didn't want to appear too lazy and enjoying myself too much, but the boat was so quiet I wasn't sure that the others were up. At the center of the saloon is a large coffee table, catamarans are good for space here, so I pulled my handheld from the old half cut sock which acts as a cover and started typing. Once again I was far behind. I had only terse notes going all the way back to Singapore.

I joined Chris and Helen for a scouting of the island. We pasted a  manor house to see Bertie and his very complete vegetable garden. Bertie supplies produce to the hotel and sells to the workers on island and the occasional yachtie. We walked amongst spices, sweet potatoes, cabbage, lettuce, tomatoes and on and on. Bertie also raises pigs, cows, and chickens. This is paradise for boat types craving fresh food.

We strolled across the flat island through coconut and casuarine trees to the east side, it's only 500 meters across the island, to surf pounding on coral. The water looked clearer without sediments washed up from the  sea bottom. It was rough enough to avoid diving and snorkelling which could have mixed outcomes, but given the chance I would like to try since yesterday's snorkel was a bit lacking. The tide was high and the beach thin, so I walked carefully between the casuarine trees and the splashing waves to avoid wetting my camera.

The bottom eighth of the island is separated by a runway curved diagonally across the island, the largest scar on the wild island, and before reaching it, we cut back towards the east side, using one of the few dirt roads when possible.

Late in the afternoon I donned a snorkel and mask to scout for bommies (coral heads) in front of the boat for tropical fish. We anchored in six meters and with the sea cloudier than near the reef yesterday, I swam against the tide for some time before sighting the floor. The area is covered in a green leafed seaweed with seldom patches of sand - I didn't find any bommies and returned with the only reward of exercise.

Chris is an extraordinary socialite. He surpasses all the requirements - enthusiasm to met people and show interest in their lives, a great memory for names and details of stories, and a flair with interaction. Tonight we were to go ashore with the Tillerman's, as they're called, to dine with Eric and Leslie.

We jumped into the dinghy with a fifteen horsepower Yamaha, carrying along Helen's quiche, a bottle of South African red, and some beer.

Eric, called Peg Leg by his wife for obvious reasons, had a big round black Weber grill smoking with locally made charcoals from ironwood trees. Ron and Betty brought along steaks of yellow fin tuna, Eric had made boerwurst and spicy chicken. Add salad, bread rolls with butter potato salad and ummmm ... I was to love this meal.

Rod and Betty, Chris, and Eric are all happy talkers and conversation never waned through the night. Eric can become very involved in his stories and I wondered how fish grilled for forty five minutes would be, very dry, but it was part of the nights humor, a very nice night.

I watched Eric and his one long straight hard plastic leg with interest as he digressed with the beer and stumbled around more as the night went on. How did he lose it? We were curious but no one asked.

By 10pm I was tired and longed for my berth and Clancy book, I didn't feel it my place to suggest leaving, and instead sat quietly listening and consciously poking my energy reserve to be attentive. Ah, I made my berth by 11pm and read a bit and fell asleep facing the port hole and the sea beyond.

Sa 7/10/99 - Desroches Island, Seychelles - 5 40 95 S, 53 40 23 E

I woke at 7am, read, grabbed breakfast, then Helen and I went ashore with Rod and Betty for two hours to collect vegetables and a piglet we would share, all from Bertie.

Lunch was back aboard Hi Velocity - salad, crackers and pate, and papaya. Afterwards I was tasked with cleaning windows - my mom would faint!

The idea of a snorkel is never taken lightly, it's always to be excited for and such a relaxing activity, especially in such a quiet anchorage off the green Desroche. Although the water was a bit cool, I ignored the chill and poked around, seeing four green turtles, a school of small yellow and black striped Butterfish, a moray eel black with yellow spots, and loads of other brightly colored fish and some big mommas too. The snorkel was good, but the coral quite bleached, the same story around the world.

Betty and Rod extended an invitation for dinner aboard Tillerman, their 54 foot New Zealand built monohull. Chris, Helen, Eric, Leslie, and I attended the very casual affair. This was my first chance to see the boat, very nice, with a high enclosed bridge and deep saloon, loads of teak.

Su 7/11/99 - Sailing between Desroches Island and Alphonse

In the morning the three of us went ashore for water and quick showers at Eric and Leslie's. Chris talked with the president of IDC who had just landed on the island about a job as a flying doctor. I helped Leslie out with questions about her computer.

Before we departed company with Eric and Leslie, Eric pulled out a large photo of himself thirty years earlier standing by a hanging 270 pound grouper. It was an amazing black and white picture - the comparison of size between the man and fish was staggering - the fish was huge! He had speared the monster and had difficulties bringing the fish in, Eric already had a 70 pound trevelly on his belt. A friend pulled him exhausted and near drowning from the water by his hair. Phenomenal, especially considering this man has only one leg.

After scrubbing the dinghy bottom which took a lot of muscle from the three of us, we then accepted an offer for  leftovers on Tillerman.

We departed Desroche at 330p and held the same watches as our previous passage.

2000: Heading: 218 Wind: SSE 20-23 SeaState: 1-2m Lat: 6 07.39 Lon: 53 18.84 Sails: 2 reefs and 1/2 genoa MilesToWayPoint: 77.7 Comment:

During the night, Chris told a couple of interesting stories, the first of many I would be glad to listen to.  The first happened in 1991 where he led a convoy into Kosovo  to retrieve Red Cross workers and Yugoslav wounded from a hospital. When the convoy was leaving the battle zone with the wounded and nursing staff, they were attached by Serb forces with Mig's and mortar fire. Coincidentally three news crews were on hand to film the attack. Two nurses were badly hurt in the explosion, one suffered heavy wounds to the face and legs, and remains deaf and walks with canes but still works for the Red Cross.

The second story took place three years ago. He and his staff were captured by Russian soldiers before an attempt to leave a battle zone in xxx. The soldiers heard of the planned departure and demanded money, which they had none of although Chris had left $40,000 with a trusted colleague the day before. The soldiers stripped them to their underclothes in an open concrete building in freezing weather and tormented and tortured them for an hour and a half. Chris's interpreter, a women, was in  extreme fear and along with the others, completely shook and fearing for her life.

When the soldiers asked who was in charge, the staff looked at Chris - gulp. The soldiers said they would shoot him, and so brought Chris outside and lined up a six gun firing squad, but no, the leader asked for money once more and without any success kneed him hard in the crotch leaving him to fall into the snow. The soldiers pointed, aimed, and fired at Chris, the bullets passing just by his head and into a fence behind. They then dragged him to a shed, the staff believed Chris shot,  and brought out another man for a similar exercise. Eventually they were released, Chris suffered a broken nose and rib.

Chris had previously vaguely mentioned that he was writing a book, and in parallel I wanted to suggest that he write a autobiography, he could write one now and another equally interesting one in a decade I'm sure. Curiously, this book he had mentioned is autobiographical - twelve short stories of interesting happenings in his life. I hope he finishes the book, I'd love to read it.

Mo 7/12/99 - Alphonse Island, Seychelles - 7 00.64 S, 52 48.82 E

In the early dawn a gray profile of Alphonse was visible to port and I congratulated myself at nearly completing my second rough blue water crossing, this time with stomach intact.

We sailed clear to the west and then clear south of Alphonse  to find the entrance through a coral passage into the lagoon. We followed the direction of the Nautical Pilot of the Seychelles, but the route was hairy. The guide gave good direction, noting that the channel buoy markers were now missing, leaving only three steel poles for guidance, although one of them was now missing also, leaving two, one tall one at the entrance and one on the channel through the reef. We swung wide around the island, noted the two channel markers, and lined up the two small southerly laying islands of St. Francois and Bijoutier to break within the surf, the three islands together comprise the Alphonse group.

The two mile wide lagoon and reef is amazing, a huge earring of generally shallow water hanging on the southern side of the island. The tide was high spring at 5:45am, now the time was 7:30am and so the tidal waters were leaving the lagoon via the channel and in small breaks through the reef. At the same time the southeast monsoon pushed waves toward the entrance, the collision of the two made for waves large enough to surf and swamp the cockpit over the transom.

Helen and I both stood guard on the foredeck for reef and bommies although she certainly has vast more experience and certainly more confidence with coral reefs. Because the sun was low and somewhat ahead of us, seeing through the water was difficult. At the first marker the channel begin with a change of bearing to 25 degrees. Then the waves subsided and I then wondered why no documents specified how wide the channel actually was. We moved slowly along, actually at full engine speed but the outgoing tide pushed against us, and finally passed the second marker, which we assumed to be the last of the original three and turned to 350 degrees toward a cluster of small buildings straddling the runway.

An hour later Chris was satisfied with the hook.

0830: Heading: Wind: SeaState: 1m Lat:  7 00.68 Lon:  52 43.79 Sails: anchored in 8m at Alphonse MilesToWayPoint:

Unlike the long shaped Desroche, Alphonse is triangular in shaped, with a rounded top and a runway carved through the middle of it. The bottom of the triangle faces south-east, here sits the large lagoon, two kilometers across,  and the main anchorage area. With a southeast exposure and the current monsoon winds, the lagoon is brisk with wind and rough with chop.

My tasks for the day included an attempt at fixing the CD player, the radio works but it chokes when trying a CD, and making and baking bread - imagine that! Hey, in Desroche I also cleaned the windows - my mother would faint.

We were all in bed early, 830pm, and I read until 10pm.

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