3:03.56N 72:53.25E
Bryan writes...
One of the aspects of this type of cruising that I really enjoy is the
planning... the preparation... the deciding where to go and when.
It's all fine and dandy being anchored off and island or in a local
harbour, but I also enjoy the buzz that goes with thinking about
moving on to the next stop.
We have a rough idea of which atolls and islands we want to visit, from
talking to locals, lonely planet write ups and a few scraps of information
Helen found on the internet from other cruisers. A day or so
before departure, the paper charts get spread out on the saloon table and
the callipers are applied against the latitude to double check passage
lengths. We work on an average speed of about four or five knots,
although we discovered last week that choppy seas and a wind on the nose
can easily halve that. We check the charts and different sources, and
talk through 'bolt holes', alternative destinations, should making our
original destination too tricky, or arrival not possible within daylight
hours.
We check the tides in Male and Gan; the closest tide stations on our chart
plotter; and apply a wide margin of error to cover our guess work.
Aroha's keel is 2.0 meters below the surface, although we normally
aim for 3.0 meters depth so we have a bit of clearance for a missed clump
of coral or some other depth anomaly. Both the paper and electronic
charts lack detail- none of the harbours we've stopped at are even
shown on the charts! When we get close to a harbour, reef, channel, or
something else under the water that could cause us grief, Helen keeps a
watch from the pointy end of the boat, while I drive. We communicate
using our handheld VHFs on low power.
The most tricky aspect is getting into and out of harbours, because of the
spider web of ropes that the local boats use to moor and manoeuvre
themselves in confined quarters. I often curse the locals when I see
their inconsiderate use of these lines, but have to remind
myself that it's their harbour and their method, that we have to
adapt to. Besides, the local boats are built with long shallow keels,
with a skeg hung rudder enclosing the single propeller. This arrangement
gives them limited manoeuvrability at low speeds, but when they want to
cross a floating line, they simply power towards them, then cut the engine
at the right time and glide over. Fool proof? Not quite - I've seen
three boats catch lines in their props. The way to drive the dinghy in a
harbour here is one hand on the throttle, and one hand on the top of the
engine cowling, ready to lift the engine and propeller clear of the water
at the right moment.
We have taken to following the fishing boats lead and mooring stern to.
This is the mooring method preferred in the Mediterranean, presumably
because you can fit more charter yachts against a given linear length of
key wall. The method is to reverse towards the wall (usually involving a
fairly sharp three point turn inside the harbour, whilst dodging the
aforementioned ropes), drop the anchor about two or three boat lengths
out, then secure a line from each aft quarter to the quay wall, to form a
Y shaped arrangement. The locals are usually friendly enough to take a
line and secure it. The down side is the loss of privacy, as the locals
often line the quay wall and stare across the few meters to the boat.
It's a pity - we spend a lot less time in the cockpit when moored stern
to, for fear of the shouted "how are you?" and "where do you come from?"
questions, at around the time when we usually just want to put our feet up
after a passage.
We are now anchored in the old harbour at Nilandhoo. We first came into
the new harbour, anchored in 2.6m of water near the top of the tide and
then calculated that the outgoing tide would lower this to as low as 1.6m.
Call me old fashioned, but I believe its bad luck to anchor a two meter
deep boat in water that I would stand up in. A friendly local clambered
on board, and we came through another passage in the reef (Itself only
1.6m above chart datum! We are definitely leaving this place on the top
of the tide!) to the nearby old abandoned harbour. The harbour walls are
falling in, but the breakwater itself is largely intact just below the
waterline and we have a big space to ourselves, about 0.4m deeper than the
new harbour.
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