Tu 7/13/99 -  Alphonse Island, Seychelles - 7 00.64 S, 52 48.82 E

I woke at 8am, woken only by my mind and body happy with the quantity and quality of sleep - that felt wonderful. The New Zealand boats Tillerman with Rod and Betty, and Kingston Rover with Scotty and Sheila arrived., and they looked good sitting in the sun stern to shore to our starboard.

My life aboard Hi Velocity at anchor today was fairly normal. I laid awake for ten minutes clearing my head and peaking out the port hole to check the sun and clouds, then rose just before 8am. After a pee in my loo, I hand pumped the bowl through the through-hull into the sea, flushing the system with salt water, then ran barefoot - always barefoot on the boat - to the starboard hull and down into kitchen to make breakfast for myself - one bowl of Cornflakes with powdered milk made from Port Victoria water since it tastes much better than the desalinated water made onboard, two pieces of boatmade bread with butter and lemon marmalade, and a cup of tea with sugar and powdered milk. Tea is nearly my only source of liquid, although there is LiquiFruit juice stored somewhere on board. Helen is up earlier and outside drinking tea and reading. Her tea was finished so I ran back down to throw hot water and a tea bag and milk powdered into her cup then sat outside again to eat breakfast.

I hadn't showered or shaved in two days and decided to wait until late afternoon, before dinner, after swimming and working on the boat for the day. As a guideline there is only  one quick shower per person per day - the desalinator only makes xxx liters per hour, the water tanks and water hold 800 liters, so we need to replenish water whenever possible, which we did in Desroche since we had used nearly one of the two big built-in tanks up.

After lunch, which Helen prepared, I washed dishes. With the a red plastic bucket I scooped salt water from the transom (back of the boat) steps, threw food scraps through the window into the sea and rinsed off small bits and grease down the drain - also running straight into the sea - before using dish liquid detergent in a sink of salt water and rinsing in a small amount of fresh. Of course the pans, pots, plates, cups and glasses - all plastic - drip dry.

All boats are different, some more outfitted, others less. Hi Velocity has much more electronic gear than my 36 foot boat at home for the last three years, Dulcinea. Dulcinea has the bare essentials for navigational ad communication gear:

- boat speed
- water depth
- windex (a pointer to where the wind originates)
- telltales on the sails (for setting sail angle by showing air flow over the sail surface)
- VHF radio
- handheld GPS
- Loran (not used)

Hi Velocity hasn't a Loran and the windex is on electronic display, but there is a full console inside plus displays in the cockpit:

- radar
- autohelm
- navigational maps (cartridges)
- sensors to various electronics are hull speed, GPS latitude and longitude, wind speed and direction, and water temperature. Besides the straight sensor readings, every imaginable calculation of these can be programmed for display and the history plotted. Normally displayed in the cockpit are hull speed, depth, apparent wind speed and direction, and autohelm rudder heading
- normally displayed at the nav station are latitude and longitude, graphic display of current location and way point,
waypoint distance, waypoint bearing, speed over ground,
hull speed, speed over ground, course over ground, and sometimes radar

Hi Velocity's other items include sink with cold and hot (not used) water, desalinator, four burner propane stove, propane oven, electric refrigerator, deep freeze (not used), solar panel, wind generator, and a grill off the stern.

During the afternoon I threaded a third reefing line on the main and helped Chris with an electrical problem where only one of two will work at once - either the autohelm or the electronic navigational charts. After hours of playing around, we found a bad connection with the main Autohelm module, the Navcenter, where it mounts to a cradle for support and electrical connections. I suspect most electronic problems on a boat are wiring and connections that go toes up.

Later in the afternoon Helen and I drove the dinghy the short distance to shore and walked the long quiet runway to the northern point to catch the sunset. Here is also a lagoon, very calm and serene out of the weather, but too shallow to allow boats to anchor. The beach to the sides of the runway and around the island are short, scaevola shrubs  grow to the high water mark and help prevent erosion. In the distance, 500 meters across blue Indian Ocean, we could see waves breaking on the reef. The whole scene, at least away from the runway, was idyllic - a bright green shore of coconut palms scattered amongst scaevola and causarine trees, the brilliant short sand beach, the bright blue lagoon water extending to the reef and breakers. Ahhhh - vacation!

Walking back across the island in the fading afternoon light we detoured to scope out the building of a new resort, the first for the island. There were a large group of Indians, Sri Lankians, South Africans, and Seychellois working on chalets to be followed by a central building and facilities. These people were living in big tents now lit by lantern and had small auxiliary buildings to the side. We wondered if this resort would be successful, a dozen chalets lined the very short beach. With the remote access the resort would cater to the wealthy and the question was - could they make the island hospitable enough for the guests.

Chris story: While in Seirra Leone, he visited the current dictator to described his humanitarian work. Within five minutes the meeting ended when the dictators gardener from Miami Beach called for a silly problem. Soon afterward the dictator orchestrated his own coup, passing power onto a friend, took his accumulated wealth plundered from the country to retire in America.

We 7/14/99 - Alphonse Island, Seychelles - 7 00.64 S, 52 48.82 E

The wind was cranking again, the boat rocking and rolling, damn we're on the wrong side for pleasure, but there wasn't much choice.

I helped Helen clean the boat, finished work on the reefing lines, then a group of us - Chris, Helen, Scotty and Sheila, and I - went for snorkel by dinghy to the water Helen and I watched the sunset in yesterday evening. The dinghy ride itself was fun for me, the first time speeding through lagoon, bouncing over the waves, spray in the face, and watching for coral heads. The dive was also great, clear deep blue water and large fish, not many bommies, but a good snorkel. Chris speared a grouper.

This fierce and relentless wind - the monsoon this time of year is from the southeast and is a rougher time than the northwest monsoon. Chris and the other sailors blame it on Cap D'Ambre, the cape on the northern point of Madagascar that accelerates the winds around itself and into the Seychelles. The best season to be in the Seychelles for diving is on the changing monsoon, October and April, otherwise May to October for sailing.

So, we weren't sailing through the Seychelles during the best diving season because of the winds, but the snorkelling is okay, and for diving I guess a little research is needed to find a good spot. As a conciliation, we keep hearing very enticing reports from yachts in Madagascar.

Th 7/15/99 - Alphonse Island, Seychelles - 7 00.64 S, 52 48.82 E

Helen and I cleaned the stainless pulpits and stanchions. I was barechested for an hour in the sun, I was getting brown, but today I was burnt.

After lunch, Helen and I spun away in the dinghy, the pressure was on via Chris's endless ribbing for me to spear dinner. This would be only my second experience at spearfishing, the first experience was a couple of summers ago with Gary Krystopick when he overturned his kayak at Ledge Rd.

In the lagoon not far from where we anchored Hi Velocity were nice bommies, but the best fish I could find were small parrot fish. I first hesitated to shoot at them, but when I realised how thin the choices were, I tried. And tried. Damn, they're fast - I'd aim straight at them only to see them wiggle and duck and dart and flee before the spear could strike.

The water was cold enough so that after forty five minutes I needed relief and I saw that Helen was already in the dinghy. We used the cold as an excuse to ourselves for a walk we looked forward to. On the low tide we dragged the dinghy into shallow water, set anchor, and walked along a very long spit of sand only visible at high tide. The scene was very pretty with many textures and colors - blue sky and sun, ripples of sand left with patterns by the outgoing tide, colors of sand changing across ribbons of dry and wet. There were long black and brown patches beyond the waters edge in the lagoon - seagrass and coral, and further out were the light and dark blue of the lagoon water at depth. We watched as a small dark colored moray eel in knee deep water snaked along and fluttered its long spinal and dorsal fins, then slither into a coral hole. To the south the spit of sand and the patterns and textures went on to touch infinity, ending only at the far away breakers. Without another reference it was difficult to see actually how far away the spit terminated.  We walked for fifteen or more minutes, looking left and right and spinning around to see where we had come and to spot the dingy. A truly beautiful sight. Without local knowledge of the spit, we wondered how quickly the tide would rise over the sand, already the long stripes of seawater were gaining width. So we played conservative, I was mostly concerned of my camera, and walked back to shore.

With one last chance at providing dinner, we quickly checked two bommies, but nothing. The tide was returning to the lagoon, so visibility had worsened.

Back on board I helped Helen prepare dinner for the three boats, we would all depart toward Providence tomorrow morning, and this was a kind of see-you-there and good luck dinner. Pizzas, coleslaw, and mass puddings (desserts) of mixed fruit and apple crisps and cream!

Chris story: On a flight to Lilly's wedding in the Seychelles, the flight crew asked for a physician. Chris hesitated because often such requests are for hysterical teenage females hyperventilating. But this time he found a 35 year old women on honeymoon, very blue and without respiration. Chris set to work with the women in the galley between first and second class. He's a chest specialist, and - excuse me for not being technical - he beat on her chest, stuck a tube down her throat, one in her neck, and all the while had a poofter steward behind him with a flashlight assisting in a squealy voice. Chris realised the women had air in her chest cavity. Reviving the women was against odds, and Chris found the whole situation sureal, inane. Still he tried. To relieve the chest cavity of air, he requested that the pilot decrease altitude, thus decreasing cabin pressure. After ten minutes of deliberating, the pilot pitched the plane suddenly and the girl and tubes went rolling into first class to the shock of passengers. The women lived to later thank Chris and make another voyage to the Seychelles for her honeymoon.

Fr 7/16/99 - Sailing from Alphonse Island, Southwest

I made a conscious effort to rise early and work on the journal, typing at 630am in the cockpit with the wind and sunrise. What did I do to deserve this relaxing life?

We were leaving Alphonse and our destination was uncertain. About a hundred miles south is Providence, a relatively large island that may make a good stop for a few days. With the southeast monsoon, the island should provide good shelter. The immediate plan for all three boats was to head there. [note - Only Tillerman and Kingston Rover went to Providence and found the anchorage so horrible they left after three days in bad weather and were beaten badly about, both suffering damage]. There were a handful interesting islands between us and Mayotte, a French island in the Comores that Chris said he was definitely in for, but because of time constraints we would only be allowed a couple of stops, and Chris was considering Aldabra as one.

Aldabra is a very remote island, preserved for it's wildlife, an island few people ever have the chance to visit because of isolation and costs. And without the contact Chris had there, a temporary warden named Lynn, we would never be allowed to stop. It all sounded fabulous and I hoped hard it would materialise.

0830 : Anchor up, moved out of lagoon with outgoing tide, wind to nose, big mother waves at lagoon mouth

0930: Out of lagoon and sails up

1000-1200, Bob's watch: The seas were similar to our last voyage, like 2-3 meters. I kept an eye out for squalls, watched the fishing lines, ad day dreamt.

1200: Heading: 222 Wind: SSE 19 seastate: moderate swell Lat: 7 14.55 Lon: 52 33.62 Sails: 2 reefs main and full genoa

1600-1800, Bob's watch: Flying fish scared by Hi Velocity, near 100 glide away from starboard side

1800: Heading: 222 seastate: moderate swell Lat: 7 41.22 Lon: 52 13.81 Sails: 2 reefs main and full genoa MilesToWayPoint: 116

2200-2400, Bob's watch: Phosphorescence every night

2400: Heading: 222 seastate: Wind: SSE 15-20 Lat: 8 07.35 Lon: 51 56.42 Sails: MilesToWayPoint: 76

Sa 7/17/99 - Sailing Southwest Through Seychelles

0400-0600, Bob's watch: Helen is on watch before me, this morning she commented that there was a big lull, but that wind was back again. At 445 the wind came up to 25 knots, Helen came off the saloon couch and we reefed the genoa more. Wind then picked up more, topping out at 29, it was a blast cruising over 8 knots, sea heavy, wind cranking. I did worry about reefing and was waiting for apparent wind gauge to hit 30. There wasn't a guideline for wind speed and reef settings. Chris came out a bit upset I didn't wake him and we reefed the main to the 3rd reef and the genoa more. That calmed things down.

0600: Heading: 222 Wind: SSE 25-30 SeaState: heavy Lat: 8 26.71 Lon: 51 39.25 Sails: 3 reefs main and 1/4 genoa MilesToWayPoint: 60

1000-1200, Bob's watch: storm at shift change, broad reach

1200: Heading: 225 Wind: SSE 20-25 SeaState: heavy Lat: 8 40.49 Lon: 51 07.39 Sails: main and genoa MilesToWayPoint:

1400: We caught small yellow fin tuna trolling. Chris says we are not stopping at Providence, surprise to me, and that we would be 3-4 days under sail - eek!. Heading for either Aldabra (Seychelles) or Mayott (Comores).

1600-1800, Bob's watch: Broad reach, nothing to report otherwise.

1800: Heading: 265 Wind: SSE 17 SeaState: moderate Lat: 8 52.84 Lon: 50 35.00 Sails: main and genoa MilesToWayPoint: 248

1930: Helen cooked the yellow fin - incredible! Slightly sautéed, called Sashimi, probably spelt differently. Chris talking now of stopping at Assumption.

2200-2400, Bob's watch: Clear, stars, airplane. Waves are 1-2 meters, some 3 meters! Went to third reef on main. Doing 25 knots in 20-22 apparent. It is dark, but I can see the horizon and we seem to be sailing on a huge ink drop, and looking at the stars above - I laugh and wonder who may be watching us, like we are a ink drop in a petre dish. The circle of horizon border is 4 miles away - only 12.5 square miles.

2400: Heading: 254 Wind: SSE 21 SeaState: moderate Lat: 9 08.37 Lon: 49 51.67 Sails: 2 reefs main and 1/2 genoa MilesToWayPoint: 207

Chris story: Chris flew postal route around eastern Africa and Indian Ocean islands "for some pocket cash".

Su 7/18/99 - Sailing Southwest Through Seychelles

0400-0600, Bob's watch: Airplane, satellite, crescent moon setting low of starboard bow, southern cross off port bow, big dipper off starboard - very nice.

0600: Heading: 254 Wind: SSE 21 SeaState: heavy Lat: 9 18.96 Lon: 49 14.43 Sails: 3 reefs main and handkerchief genoa MilesToWayPoint: 168

0800: Pumped bilge and other little chores.

1000-1200, Bob's watch: Came out for watch with black notebook in hand, sat, and whoosh - nailed by wave over saloon - nothing left dry in cockpit - yee ha! Would not be the only such wave, Chris has never seen this before. Over 4 meter seas. The big sea and high winds are attributed to the monsoon winds rounding Cap D'Ambre, the northeast point of Madagascar.

1200: Heading: 250 Wind: SSE 27-28 SeaState: heavy Lat: 9 33.10 Lon: 48 38.51 Sails: 3 reefs main and handkerchief genoa MilesToWayPoint:

1500: Caught 3 foot Dorado, as big as they get, pretty stripes of green and yellow. Steve Callahan fish in book "Adrift" about 76 days in life raft across Atlantic. Glad I've seen one, now we get to eat it!

1600-1800, Bob's watch: Rainbow.

1800: Heading: 252 Wind: SSE 20 SeaState: heavy Lat: 9 4919 Lon: 47 57.84 Sails: MilesToWayPoint:

1900: Showered and nearly blew stomach from tight quarters and boat flailing about. Ate Dorado stew after shower then rushed to sleep to ward off nausea. Heard Chris on radio - we're going to Aldabra!

2200-2400, Bob's watch: Woken from deep sleep for watch, strange dreams. Broken sleep for days is becoming strange, feel out of it Some 3+ meter waves.

2400: Heading: 270 Wind: SSE 15-20 SeaState: calmer, southerly current Lat: 9 52.00 Lon: 47 19.39 Sails: 1 reef main and genoa MilesToWayPoint: 69

Mo 7/19/99 - Sailing Southwest Through Seychelles to Aldabara

0400-0640, Bob's watch: Helen just rained on, not me! Came abut to avoid Assumption Island. Crescent moon higher in sky, straight ahead, then it set behind clouds. Watched genoa flap for the two hours, running off port stern. Clouds filled over stars. Boring until sunrise.

0600: Heading: 342 Wind: SSE 15-20 SeaState: southerly current Lat: 9 39.24 Lon: 46 38.66 Sails: 1 reef main and genoa MilesToWayPoint: 27

0700: Turned into most magnificent sunrise, but no pictures, helped Chris tack to avoid rain squalls.

1000-1200, Bob's watch: Very calm, hull speed 4-5 knots, southeast of Aldabra. Sailed along shore, all three of us stared, sometimes with binocs, took pictures. Mystical and elusive land for us. Aldabra is very flat. Original land of the giant tortoise, nearly extinct at beginning of century, now 150,000-200,000 here.

1200: Heading: 019 Wind: SSE 5-10 SeaState: Lat: 9 27.42 Lon: 46 12.08 Sails: 1 reef main and genoa MilesToWayPoint: abeam Aldabra

1300: anchored off from Lynn's home.

After an unknown destination - Chris kept rethinking what would be best - I guess. We went from having a destination of Providence to Aldabra or Mayott to Assumption to Aldabra. That was frustrating and in the end, neither Helen or I had any influence in the matter. It is sometimes tough to be crew, to be dependent on a person, especially someone like myself who is always self spoiled. We have to go along with his decisions, have to be conscious of what he expects even though he doesn't always voice himself. There is only one dinghy, so at anchor we have to follow his schedule, relax when he does, move when he does. I counted the hours of leisure time since we left - about 13 in 13 days - and that is low for my vacation, and so I wonder what the next week and a half will be like. Will we spend most of our time working on the boat when at anchor in Aldabra and Mayott. In Aldrabra Chris knows a women named Lynn, a South African ornithologist, a bird women. I suppose we will have time exploring here, but I am anxious about Mayott - maybe I should leave the boat there to regain control of my days again. Hmmm. I guess I am experiencing cruising and that is valuable and foremost. Unfortunately I am quickly learning from Chris, Scotty, and Rod and others too that cruising involves constantly working on your boat.

Aldabra is a truly special spot on earth. Although the remote atoll was pillaged early on for Giant Tortoises, the largest in the world, the tortoises have made a comeback and the atoll is refuge to many unique and protected species of plants and animals - a UNESCO World Heritage Site and scientific research station. Aldabra is the largest raised atoll in the world, 34 km east-west, 14.5 north-south with four islands (Grand Terre, Malta, Picard, and Polymnie) and ten inlets. The lagoon itself is 20 kilometers by 9 kilometers - huge.

total land area 155 sq km
Grand Terre 110 sq km
Malabar 26.4 sw km
Picard 9.3 km
Polymie 1.8 km

Aldabra, Arabic for "green land", is best known for the 100,000 Alabran Giant Tortoise, being home to the largest congregation of nesting green turtles in the Indian Ocean, the world's second largest breeding population of Frigate birds, and the last flightless bird species in the Indian Ocean, the Aldabra Flightless White-throated Rail.

Aldabra is remote - 640km southeast of Mombasa, 420km northwest of Madagascar, and is home to only six Seychelles Island Foundation workers. Occasionally, scientists are present for studies and tourists visit, but fees for both are prohibitively high.

So, knowing full well that Aldabra is a special spot and that access is very limited, when Chris mentioned he had a contact here I was gung ho for visiting.

We parked at Aldabra on the northwest island, Ile Picard, in a easterly breeze and current near Lynn's home. From the boat we could only see a few kilometers of shore including the main settlement, but not the famous lagoon of the pristine paradise. We were sitting on calm sea, by far the most calm since Hi Velocity left Port Victoria eleven days ago. I looked overboard and down into the water, the depth gauge read eleven meters, I could see through the deep turquoise to the bottom, and this good visibility pricked excitement. Three hundred meters the waves broke over a small barrier reef, before the stretch of white sand was a narrow lagoon, and on shore were a handful of small various styled houses set in some coconut palms but mostly casuarine trees. One mile directly across Picard is the famous large lagoon, and I wondered with delight what magic it beheld.

We relaxed in the saloon, congratulated one another for completing the arduous crossing, a long three days and five hours, and although we were all tired, we promised that we would sleep, but instead Helen and I jumped in the clear blue for a snorkel while Chris returned to my Tom Clancy novel "Rainbow Six". He'll surely pass my place in the book with the speed he reads.

The snorkel was amazing! I set off into the current and almost immediately saw a black tipped shark cruising the bottom below. I was especially excited for I have only seen a minimal number of sharks while diving - docile nurse sharks and reef sharks at a distance. The sighting widen my eyes with excitement and hopefully unnecessary caution, hell, he was bigger than me, but not big enough to be interested. I was amazed at the quantity of fish and how large they were - parrot fish, skipjack, and trevally. I watched a turtle glide past, then turned and saw a mother of a turtle - big! I dove to the bottom a few times, but at a depth that I find a little uncomfortable, so I swam a to where the depth is a little less, and then because of the clarity I didn't need to dive. Wow! On the return trip drifting in the tide toward the yacht a huge grouper passed - huge! I would later hear from Lynn that a form of giagantism exists and is studied here in Aldabra.

We went ashore to meet Lynn and I felt privileged to set foot on Aldabra, yachties are not allowed on shore, unless of course we paid the exorbitant fees. The tide was nearly high, we surfed cautiously over the reef and dragged the dinghy onto the beach. Chris and Lynn had a big hugging hello for one another. Lynn seems a very nice and warm late fifties-ish women from Durban.

Lynn explained that a wealthy Chilean had taken over the island and small staff, probably paying tens of thousands of dollars. Within sight were this man's two beautiful boats - a huge ketch and a bit bigger motor boat, Anakena and Antartica, 142 feet and 150 feet respectively.

Chris anchored with the pretence of electrical problems and hoped that Lynn could smooth the road for a few days for us, but the plan was now a mess, she wouldn't be easily available. Lynn would not be able to dine on Hi Velocity tonight, she was asked to dine aboard with the big man and she had to go. The Chilean just arrived and would use Lynn and staff for a few days.

For Hi Velocity to stay on would only happen on the sly. We learned that a yacht recently arrived with island supplies from Reunion and was told to shove off because they hadn't the necessary permits. The management of Aldabra isn't interested in dealing with yachties, their money is in the big boats. We might also be requested by the government to leave this paradise. Damn!

Chris story: Chris' grandfather, his father's father, was a very wealthy trader living in Aden (Yemen) where Chris was born. The eccentric man built an empire trading between Europe and east Africa. Jacque Costeau persuaded him to appeal to the European powers to save Aldabra from development. He bought Costeau's first Calypso for him.

Tu 7/20/99 - Aldabra Island, Seychelles, .9 24.01 S, 46 12.01 E

We woke to sun and flat calm sea, dozens of dolphins passing off starboard, fish mouths poking at the surface around us, and the magnificent deep blue clear water.

Chris went ashore at 8am, came back saying the millionaire or billionaire has twenty such boats spread around the world, that Lynn and co-warden Louie would come on board for lunch, and that they would send a fax to the home office reporting that Hi Velocity was anchored off under repair. A negative reply to the fax means we way anchor, no reply may be the best hope.

My chores for the afternoon included making bread, which I screwed up by either adding too much oil or not enough water - it could have been used as an anchor.

I had asked Chris yesterday about using the dive gear, and today, even though it was late, Helen and I went overboard for fifty minutes. It was a great relief from sucking water and the frustration of having to resurface after a minute, as in snorkelling. The dive itself wasn't too notable though. we found a couple of nice bommies circling with life, and some more jumbo fish, but no sharks or rays. However, still enjoyable, even with the long exposure to the cool water without a wetsuit, and the worry of finding the yacht again (we cheated navigation and went to the surface for a peek).

Helen made a fish stew from remainder of the Dorado, and had Lynn, and co-workers Brian and Jacque aboard for drinks and dinner. We sat outside in the calm, to the stern was Anakena and Antartica lit white like Christmas trees, and watched Chris tease Lynn about seeing rare birds neither have ever seen. Chris buttered up the men to help smooth out our stay, treating them great respect, showing interest in their work, and providing a tour of Hi Velocity.

We had half of Aldabra's stationed crew on board. Jacque has the  responsibility of maintaining monitoring equipment, Brian is into electronics and acting as guide. There aren't very many visitors here, especially since casual visits from yachties  is very discouraged, besides the exclusive big-bucks tourists that the island staff to look after, there are visiting scientists who stay in provided huts in the settlement on Picard. Soon two South Africans will arrive to study the Aldabra Flightless White-throated Rail for two months. The only scheduled transport is the IDC cargo boat, Lady Genivieve, once every two months, so shifts for workers and scientists relaying on the boats are on two month increments.

In conversation, Lynn remarked at how coincidences happen. Her son Brian had worked for the same Chilean aboard a equally impressive boat named Melinka, sailing through Newport, Seal Harbor, and Camden. To his standard reputation, the Chilean had drove Brian made, and he left the boat after one season.

The Chilean boats had scheduled  a night walk to see the large green turtles crawling from the sea to borrow and lay eggs ashore. Lynn asked if we also would like the adventure, having Brian as our guide, and we all ecstatically agreed.

Around 9pm, two hours after sunset, the six of us piled into the dinghy and arrived ashore fairly dry. We walked to the left, away from the small settlement of huts, and searched for green turtle tracks up the beach. I felt as though we were in Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, without the television set. There were many tracks, they looked like giant tractor tire impressions, and direction is determined by which way the fin points, downward means the turtles are heading up the beach. Brian deciphered whether the tracks we came across were fresh. Some new tracks came up the beach, it must take an hour for the lumbering sea creatures to make there way, then turned when the turtle encountered rock, and turned again to the sea when a suitable spot wasn't found, like a computer game robot turned when bumping into objects. Very interesting, deeply patterned tracks from 400 pound turtles, the fins very distinctive, the pointy tail making squiggles after the broad bottom shell smoothed the sand flat.

We seemed to walk on for a long time, I wished I hadn't put a T-shirt under my short sleeved casual shirt, I was starting to sweat from the work even in the cool night air. I walked alone close to the lapping waves, the night was beautiful with a bright half moon shining across the calm sea, I hoped to spot a turtle rising from the sea on her way to perform, but that didn't happen. We reached the beach end, well around the island's curve and away from the bright Chilean boat lights, and my excitement sunk for fear of not witnessing this feat of nature. There were sets of tracks here running up and down the beach and turning at clumps of coral rock, and - ah ha - a turtle was in the shadows of the causarines, deep down in her hole! My first observation was that the shell was over four feet in length, huge.

She had laboriously made her way up the shore, a duty performed every two months for adults that mature in 25-40 years. With flicks of her huge fins she dug and dug to search for suitable sand to lay and bury her 150 eggs. The consistency must be right - no sticks, sand that doesn't fall too easily, and if this spot is unsuitable she'll clamber out and look again.

The whole process from sea and return takes three hours. Brian covered a flashlight with fingers and looked under her bottom for eggs, none yet, but once a turtle starts laying, she wouldn't be bothered by humans lurking about. Otherwise she be set nervous and return to the sea. Brian determined pictures would be okay at this point, and then something was wrong, she started the task of leaving the hole. Did we disturb her? No, there were twigs in the sand so she moved five meters and started digging again.

It was all very interesting and exciting, but we weren't about to wait another hour to see if this den was suitable. As we walked away a large contingency from the Chilean boats arrived. We all stood about talking quietly.

An interesting man was there named Roger, who I met yesterday, and again was packing serious photographic equipment. I talked to him for a long while there and also strolling back along the beach. He was currently on assignment for Bird International and does a lot of work in the yachting world. Six years ago the mad Chilean saw and admired his work and contacted him, since then Roger has been a guest on the Chilean's adventures around the world. He also aids in publishing a $150 once a year magazine called "Super Yachts", featuring 21 boats over 100 feet. He is assisting the Chilean in sorting through his next boat to build - with one bigger one he can fit all family and guests aboard the one ship instead of sailing two smaller, 150 foot ones. The new yacht is to be 72 meters and was originally concepted to also be a ketch. The problem is that a ketch would need a 70 meter mast and the Panama Canal bridge is 62 meters, so they are instead tank testing a three masted schooner.

I also learned that the Chilean, named Edwards, was 72 years old, fifth generation Chilean and made his fortune in the nitrate and phosphate business.

We 7/21/99 - Aldabra Island, Seychelles, .9 24.01 S, 46 12.01 E

I woke to see bright blue sky, then realised the sea was rocking the boat quite well. The time was 830am, Chris was visiting with Lynn, and Helen was on the radio to Rod on Tillerman who had left Providence for Mayotte, "wind was 40 knots true, now picked up to 45, seas 4-5 meters". Our beautiful calm weather turned, the wind was 20 knots, and Tillerman and Kingston Rover were in a mess from the Cap D'Ambre wind, sailing from Providence to Mayott, now 24 hours east of us, east of Astove. They were getting battered, and Rod nervously worried about damage, Scotty had already burst a foresail the first night out from Alphonse, and now damaged a communications bridge.

As a special treat, Lynn organised Tony, Brian, and a workboat for a voyage into the huge mystical Aldabra lagoon. Visiting the lagoon in Aldabra was our most fascinating activity while here. Until now I could only think and imagine whimsical of the lagoon. From the boat's stern, I mused earlier, the lagoon was across a few hundred meters of water, and then a half kilometer over land through bush, but with the constraints of depending on the captain and because of our uncertain presence in Aldabra, I was teased, I couldn't just walk there across the water to the lagoon on my own. Teased, the lagoon is the real beauty to Aldabra.

The yellow fiberglass work boat is flat bottomed and with low sides, not an open sea boat, and we paid for that. The ride was a test of perseverance, we all sat cold and drenched with waves smacking us constantly in the brisk wind. The sea passed into one ear and out the other, miserable. But, it was worth the effort, we were in search of the famous Aldabra Flightless White-throated Rail, the last flightless bird in the Indian Ocean, the bird Chris was most excited about seeing. He had talked about it daily now for days.

After twenty minutes of salty sea in the face, we entered the lagoon through Grand Passe, the sea calmed, and we were able to open our eyes to enjoy the scenery of changing blue ocean hues according to depth and the unusual mushroom shaped coral stands, cut underneath by the tides through the eons. The vast lagoon was without end, and I wondered about nature, how it could create an area so large - twelve by six miles and with an average depth of ten feet - that nearly emptied and filled twice a day. We passed  hundreds of frigate birds, hot in the mating season, and landed upon a small steep coral laden beach.

The group walked ten minutes along a trail cut into the brush, stopping every few steps to notice colorful tropical birds such as a sunbird or a bulbul. Tony started a whistle and tapped two pieces of coral together. Was he calling the Aldabra Flightless White-throated Rail like a dog? Really? You can actually call a bird? He was imitating the rail's call and I never learned how the clicking interplayed. Cutely waddling out from the bush and across the trail was the curious small short winged bird with a brown back, red-brown chest, and a white throat. The three yachties were thrilled, eyes wide, and mouths open - the Aldabra Flightless White-throated Rail!

We had to hurry back for the tide was exiting, the lagoon would be dry except for the main channel, and again I was amazed by thinking of that vast amount of water moving back and forth twice a day - at up to twelve knots through the main channel.

Before leaving the lagoon, we spent a few minutes observing a breeding colony of the Greater Frigate and Red Footed Booby on a larger coral head island. I truly felt a part of Wild Kingdom. The frigates, large black sea birds with a v-shaped tail and ominous forward angled wings, blanketing the sky.  In the thinly decorated branches of high shrub the birds also sat at rest and in nests. The males have a dispensable red pouch which is inflated to attract females, a bright red bag flopping from their throats in flight and at rest - a strange thing to see particularly in flight. Chris, Helen, and I each stood in the bright yellow boat under God's work and snapped our cameras madly. And to ice the cake we passed very closely to a baby Red Footed Booby, an innocent and curious bundle of soft fluffy bright white feathers, very adorable.

The ride back wasn't quite so rough, not so wet.

While relaxing on the stern of Hi Velocity, we witnessed a flurry of activity from the sea. Suddenly from the sea leapt a large tuna, what was chasing him? And there were pods of Spinner Dolphins, fifty or more passing ten meters off the yacht. Spinner Dolphins look similar to bottle nosed dolphins, their dorsal fins gliding smoothly from the water and down again, rhythms of graceful movement in numbers. Remarkably, the Spinner Dolphin will bound from the water and quickly roll, spinning, water flinging off the sleek bodies before returning to the sea in a wonderful splash.

I sat with Chris and Helen in the saloon, relaxing as the sun's color warmed  in its descent to the horizon, and talked of how wonderful this remote paradise is. Then Chris suddenly did a "oh, no!" with seriousness on his face, jumped up, and ran outside. Hi Velocity had slipped its anchorage and pushed by the wind had moved offshore a few hundred meters. This is the burdensome worry of every captain, always scratching in the back of his mind. The reef falls off rapidly, and when we attended to the anchor, it hung straight down into the sea. The depth gauge didn't register, it only blinked a few meters as it does when we're very deep. We reeled the anchor up, moved into shore, dropped anchor again in ten meters, paved out the seventy five feet of chain and another uncertain amount of rope, maybe an equal amount.

Although we had planned dinner at Lynn's, Chris thought a landing in the rough sea and strong winds was too dangerous, so we stayed aboard for the evening. Chris was convinced we - or I - could catch a fish by simply dangling a line with bait over the side. Hell, fresh fish for dinner, that was worth the effort. I forced a few chunks of leftover scrap fish onto the hook and within a few minutes something from the blue was chopping away and then hooked. I carefully kept tension on the line - I really know nothing of fishing - to avoid the fishing jumping off. A large mouth came to the surface followed by the rest of an ugly Marbled Coral Grouper, about five kilos. He was a decent size for two meals. I placed a plastic bucket around his butt and hauled him over.

Not only am I green with fishing, I am even less experienced in cleaning the creatures, and Chris wasn't much help at all. "Kill him by sticking a knife behind of the eye, Bob", was about the only help yelled from the couch. The large fish was laying on an old cutting board in the cockpit. I took a long kitchen knife and pushed into bone, hard enough to watch the knife break into two and see the metal blade fly across the boat. Hmm, good thing that didn't hit me. The grey-purple fish flopped in protest, but I found another knife from the galley and tried again. Careful of bending the knife as I pushed, the knife pierced the animals skull and went into the head. I yelled to Chris, "The knife is in his head, but he's not dead!". The reply was to twist the knife around to hit the brain, which I tried - "Okay, the knife is in one side and out the other, but he's still not dead!", and that got a laugh.  It just didn't seem right, I must have done something wrong, and with the knife in one side and out the other, the fish looked a bit silly, but still it flopped around, and I tried not to think humanely about it all.

I just wanted to get the episode over with. It was my first fish cleaning since childhood when I stream fished for trout with my brother John. I really couldn't ask for too much help and lose face over a simple fish, hell, people back home are always killing and cleaning these things. It's just that it would have been much easier if the fish was dead and not slapping my leg with it's tail, and slapping my mind with guilt. Well, Chris said it was close enough to being dead, and he's a doctor, he'd know. I figured the quicker I finish this the better.

Helen gave me a hint on how to filet the live fish and asked that I skin it while on. She squirmed when the fish moved but I reassured her it was really dead, the manly thing to say. Eck, it kept jumping, even when the first filet, a quarter of it's body was off and in the bucket. This is how it went - I would think, "It's has to be dead now", I would cut another piece off the fish and it would be still flapping around. I stared down at it, half of it's body gone and still moving. Damn, just get it over with. Then with three filets off, has to be dead, nope - still jumping. Even with both sides of the body off, four filets, it was still moving! I was grossed out. I quickly cut off the tail for bait and threw it overboard. I wondered how it would taste.

Th 7/22/99 - Aldabra Island, Seychelles, .9 24.01 S, 46 12.01 E

Lynn came out with Tony to say she couldn't reach us on  VHF and that Sue and Brian would be leaving soon for the two day camp on Grande Terre. After tea and coffee, Chris, Helen, and I went ashore to meander.

We left Lynn to organise herself for the camp trip in the small village, really just a set of buildings ten meters off the sea's edge, and walked toward Passe Femme to the south. Amongst the buildings are many of the famous Giant Tortoise whose shells are in length from hand to hand when arms are outstretched, and I took a couple of photos with Blacky. Then on the trail we passed a tortoise lounged out and sleeping in the shade, neck and head and legs like an elephants stretched and flopping, like a bean bag toy.

At the trails end laid before us was Passe Femme, one of the dozen inlets to the lagoon. It sparkled in the sun, shades of blue and green in ribbons, open sea to the right, the mysterious lagoon to the left. At the far side herons hung in the sea breeze. A plaque in English and French commemorated the Seychellois gift to humanity - Aldabra. We took turns photographing ourselves with the monument.

After more tea and coffee at Lynn's abode, she guided us on a walk along the shore to the north and then inland which was great. With Lynn's local knowledge of the Aldabra's plants and birds she peeked our interest of the life and geology. Two bulbuls flitted from branch to branch behind us, cutely following us along. We passed dilapidated buildings from earlier days - a manor house once overlooking the sea, the jail, storage sheds. The somewhat marked trail snaked through the bush over fossilised coral and passed very rough coral with deep pools of seawater trapped after the outgoing tide.

I am not a "birder" by any means, but with experience travelling and listening to people that are seriously interested, I have been a little more appreciative. In my first trip to southern Africa I was amazed by the varying color in the feathered animals. My first enlightenment involved a young boy named Sean, the seven year old son of the Cheesman's who live on the 250 kilometer long Lake Kariba, Zimbabwe where the backyard is hippopotamus and crocodiles. Sean was cute, blonde hair, freckles, and a bright smiling face. With a glossy bird book in hand he excitedly asked if I wanted to see his favourite bird, and I agreed. With great enthusiasm he pointed to the Lilac Breasted Roller. I smiled with the boy and had to agree, the bird was unusually attractive, a hot of metallic greens and blues and purples varying across his body. Yes, there was something to appreciate here.

Following are the birds that I had help identifying by name:

Greater Frigate
Baby Red Footed Booby
Green Backed Heron
Aldabra  Sacred Ibis
Comoro Blue Pigeon
Madagascar Kestrel
Madagascar Bulbul
Souimanga Sunbird

After another good meal of grouper for lunch, and the common afternoon relaxing chat, I went off to snorkel alone. I had a quest, and instead of hanging deep, I swam to the reef. The waves raised and lowered my body cyclically and I laughed at the life of the small fish here - they were whipped one way with the ocean motion, then abruptly back again on the return. For each direction of wash they would quickly turn to face it. I searched the water cloudy with sand for feelers and found a few, lobsters, they do hide here. I only wished I had a hook rod and net bag to claim them for a meal, I am very curious to try their taste. I saw the normal set of beautiful fish - trigger fish, parrot fish, surgeons, sweetlips, groupers, etc - and came across a hundred strong school of emperors.

Louie, Tony, and girlfriend and co-worker Muriel joined us for a sedate dinner. Louie was the most animated until he joined Muriel outside to lay down because of seasickness.

Chris story: While in Samoa, in the middle of the Pacific, Chris and a friend hired locals to carry them to outer islands in exchange for petrol, in low dugouts whose seaworthiness was questionable. They often capsized in the open sea (the locals happily bailed with smiles) along the 300 mile offshore run. They ate what they could forage on islands and catch from the sea.

Fr 7/23/99 - Sailing from Aldabra Island (Seychelles) toward Mayotte (Comores)

It was a calmer morning with bright sunshine across the glittering Indian Ocean, the stern pointed west to open sea. I looked in earnest again for spinner dolphins, finding them an exciting sight, realising a photo would be difficult but amazing if the coincident allowed.

We were away quickly from Aldabra, anchor up at 930am, flying at 7.1 knots in 25 knots apparent wind, bearing 203, way point (Mayotte) distance 200 nautical miles. Aldabra faded away and I wondered how the open sea conditions were and attempted to imagine what Mayotte was like and how I would get on in a country where English isn't used.

1100-1200: Bob's watch. Saw a Blue Faced Booby. Chris insisted that I helm by falling off both sides of the passing waves, a requirement new to Helen and I, the advantage being less stress on the rudder and less pounding on the boat. Certainly the autohelm doesn't know of this technique.

1400: Chris at helm, the biggest wave yet washing over saloon and bimini, and into cockpit - a large volume of sea water crashing onto Chris and filling the cockpit with six inches of water.

1530: Whales off starboard, first sighting. Visible was a white fin straight into the air, the dark colored back, and spouting water.

1600-1800: Bob's watch. Tried to avoid a big squall, mass rain, 40 knot winds.

2130: Helen stuck in tack, genoa flapping hard, sheets in huge knot, Chris comes from bunk and takes ten minutes untangling mess. Says foresail is ripped and we'll have to motor to Mayotte.

2200-2400: Thin clouds, half moon does a good job with lighting. Sailing still isn't right without Oreo cookies.

Sa 7/24/99 - Sailing to Mayotte (Comores)

0400-0600: Bob's watch. Clear, stars. 10 meteors, 1 plane, no satellites, a bit of Phosphorescence. One particularly bright falling star caught from corner of my eye and turned quickly to watch, so bright it must have been close by. Saw twinkle of white, red, and green on horizon that I though to be a masthead light, no, a star, perplexing then amazing. I watched this star rise and the twinkle turned solid yellow-white. Noticed a second one doing the same.

1000-1200: Bob's watch. Beautiful morning - clear blue, sunny, warm. Ink dot effect very prominent - with clear circle of horizon and dark sea it looks like we're sailing on an ink dot. Did you know that the Oxford definition for "blue" is "the color of the clear sky"? Sighted tanker off port bow - big. Chris made bacon and egg and fried toast breakfast with juice.

2200-2400: Bob's watch.

2330: Navigational lights of Mayotte sighted.

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chart - Indian Ocean, Islands North of Madagascar INT 7731 718. Has Aldabra, 8 charts on one.