The philosophers of the most ancient civilizations believed mankind to be the descendants of mother sea and father sky. Modem science has come to a somewhat similar conclusion: sunrays fer-tihzing an empty ocean. What else was there for the first hving species to descend from? At night in the ocean even the stars seemed to come closer to the water and become part of man's world again, as they had once been to the people who first gave them names and used them as familiar landmarks when travehng in open spaces. Again we had this strong feehng that only hfe in the wildemess can give, of time fading away, and past and present becoming one. Time was not divided into passing ages, only into day and night.
When we stood night watch on the steering bridge, or lay on the cabin roof looking at the topmast circling among the ever more familiar constellations, we began to feel at home in the system up there, forgotten by other than astronomers and astronauts. The stars were no longer a chaos of sparks hke the plankton of the sea. We recognized them and the time and direction of their paths, as they rotated over the bow and the sail, in the same order and with the same speed night after night. No wonder that the peoples of Mesopotamia and Egypt, with their wide-open spaces, became master as-
tronomers who knew the exact rotation period of all the main heavenly bodies, navigated by them, and gave our ancestors a proper calendar system.
There were nights on the bridge when I felt that Tigris was a skyrocket. The bundles were blue with phosphorescence and sent oflF dancing sparks, while behind each rudder oar was a long bright hght resembling the dim headhghts of a vehicle; but since we drove away from them they became more like a burning exhaust, full of sparks, while we flew with our black sail in the opposite direction, among the stars.
On March 1 the diary reads: *We started our journey in November and are still on board in March. It is incredible, but yesterday and today the sea on portside smells of fish! Is it possible that all these creatures packed just below the surface, which indeed smell above water, can send out an odor that reaches us when they are in sufficient nmnbers?*
A few days later we were suddenly torn away from the world of fish and early man. Norman had managed to establish good radio contact with the modem world, still far away. But we could clearly hear Frank at Bahrain Radio, and radio messages came with depressing regularity. Tigris was suddenly on a collision course with poHtical events. Four months had gone since we launched our reed ship in Iraq, and four weeks after we sailed from Pakistan when we ran into serious steering problems. Not because Tigris would no longer obey the rudder oars, but because major areas in front of us had become forbidden territories.
We had hoped to sail from Meluhha to Punt, today Somalia, since Egyptian records speak of this fertile part of Africa as having been visited by their sailors and merchants. Requesting permission to land there, we got the first warning from London via Bahrain Radio: "No one in Somaha answering phones yesterday as major town had fallen to the Ethiopians. Very strongly urge you not to attempt to land on any of these territories."
Somaha was at war. Yachts trespassing Somahan waters had been seized and their crews imprisoned. This meant that fifteen hundred miles of the African coast from the Gulf of Aden southward was closed to us.
So we had to avoid the Horn of Africa on our way into the Red
Sea. We must steer slightly more to the north in order to stay away from the African side of the Gulf of Aden. This meant that it was necessary to keep our course closer to the Arabian side.
Then came a warning from London that the Arabian side of the Gulf of Aden was also forbidden territory, for this was South Yemen, which had closed its borders to visitors. South Yemen filled the entire thousand-mile stretch of the Arabian peninsula between Oman on the ocean side and North Yemen inside the Red Sea. South Yemen, with a communist government, had armed border clashes with both these capitahstic neighbors.
We now had to navigate with caution and try to reach and then follow the midhne of the Gulf of Aden, nine hundred miles long, without touching the forbidden lands on either side. Our intentions caused renewed anxiety for our security among our consortium contacts in London:
Do you actually intend to navigate into the Gulf of Aden and from there into the Red Sea. Are you able to sail and navigate this course. Please beware of pohtical situation in this area as previously advised. We have had no cooperation from either the South Yemen or SomaUan Governments. Stop.
We were sure we were able to navigate that well. We aimed for the narrow Bab-el-Mandeb Strait leading into the Red Sea from the far end of the critical Gulf of Aden. Then the wind died down. Completely. There was not a gust from any direction, and we became a prey to the invisible ocean currents while there were still 1,400 miles left to the strait we had to hit. The sea became calmer than I have ever seen any ocean. Not a ripple except from us. The sail hung like a wall carpet, its beige pyramid and red sun mirrored perfectly on the surface. When we dived and rose again to the surface of this marine mirror there was no visible horizon anywhere; we became almost dizzy, floating about in all that blueness like spacemen beside a suspended Tigris, with sail and emblem dupH-cated hke the figures on a playing card. Beautiful. But the two navigators checked sun and stars and told us we were drifting toward Socotra.
Socotra was a large island well in front of the Horn of Africa and equally far from Somaha and South Yemen. It now belonged to South Yemen. As a precaution we hurried to ask for permission to land on Socotra. The answer was a new disappointment:
Have approached the Embassy of South Yemen in London for permission for Tigris to land in Socotra if necessary. Stop. They are aware of Tigris's proximity to Socotra but stated that Tigris must not repeat not attempt to land on this island before such written permission has been given. Stop.
We drifted closer. London stressed: "You risk arrest if you land on Socotra without permission. Stop." And direct from a friendly west European Foreign Office came an independent warning: "Do not go to Socotra now, you may get trouble." Unconfirmed radio messages said it was believed that Russians were installing important mihtary bases on this strategically located island which controlled the entrance to the Gulf of Aden and the Red Sea. No planes or ships were allowed to pass within sight. South Yemen simply answered that we could not approach the island unless we had advance written permission from the island itself.
Helpless without wind, we drifted still closer, while the well-meant warnings increased. We could be shot at. Court-martialed.
On March 12 the impressive moimtain skyline of Socotra rose into sight, pale blue in the distant southwest, fust where we were drifting. Carlo discovered the faint outlines just as the red sun set in the west, and we all shouted with mixed feelings of joy and concern. "Hurrah, we see Socotral We have reached Africal**
This was great. We had crossed the Indiem Ocean. There was now a very faint ripple on the sea, but not enough wind to lift the sail. Yet we must not come closer to that island. We struggled with sails and oars to keep away. The sun set and we saw nothing. We sent out new messages: we approached the forbidden island against our own will.
On March 13 the sun rose in a faint haze, with a lazy breeze still too faint to give us steering speed. By noon the haze gradually became so thin that I detected a sunlit formation of something bright but indistinct far over on portside. It most resembled an iceberg shaped hke a seated polar bear. It seemed to be part of something bigger with darker outlines. We had clearly drifted much nearer the island, but could not quite make out what we saw in the haze. A seagull came out on a visit The boys fished up clusters of floating algae.
Norman passed on a report of our imfortunate position, and got back the message that the London embassies of all nations represented on Tigris had approached South Yemen with negative result
The sun set.
On March 14, shortly after midnight, a strong wind sprang up and we started steering. No sooner were the two sails filled, when the wind turned from W to SW and S, and then suddenly back in the opposite direction.
We ran about, turning the sail and helping with the rowing oars all night, but never brought Tigris back onto course before the sail back-filled again. In the end we exhausted ourselves rowing in turns and circles, and in the dark I ran my forehead into the end of a thick bamboo rafter and got my hands and beard full of blood. At daybreak, shortly after six, I crawled out again and to my great amazement saw the entire rugged coastline of Socotra right before the bow. The seated polar bear was there too; it proved to be a colossal white sand dune running way up a hill and forming a headland in the central part of the island. Our bearings soon told us that we were looking at the north coast of Socotra, seventy miles long from end to end, and when the sun rose we were only twenty miles oflF. As it set, the distance was only fourteen.
In the meantime we had struggled nonstop all day to get farther out, or at least hold our distance from shore. With our bow turning aimlessly in all directions, our school of dolphins swam bewildered around us in a ring. The island had peaks and pinnacles that seemed higher and wilder than any land we had sighted on the voyage. Norman was constantly on the radio, and learned that an appeal on our behalf had been directed to the South Yemen Embassy at the United Nations, but to no avail. Permission could only be granted by the island itself. When Norman tried his amateur set a Russian radio ham named Valery was among those who called him back, and I asked Yuri to send a message to his superiors in Moscow explaining our unintentional drift toward Socotra. Soon afterward we got a reply through Valery that the First Deputy Minister of the U.S.S.R. Foreign Office had sent one dispatch to the South Yemen Embassy in Moscow and another to the Soviet Embassy in Aden. Evening came, and all sight of the island was lost again, while Detlef reported from the bridge that we seemed to hold our distance from land as we sailed westward along the island against a tidal current of at least one knot. That night faint gusts of confused wind sometimes brought a marked smell of flowers or vegetation, and once we thought we scented roasted cofi^ee. In the direction of land a single strong hght was once turned on for seconds, then the night was as black as before.
It was March 15. All wind died down at midnight, and we were a prey to the currents. We scouted in vain for Ughts from ship or shore. And as the black sky first grew bright green in the east and then red, we scanned the horizon for land. There it was again, and only eight miles away. We had been carried back and were once more oflF that part of the island we had left the night before, but much nearer. The polar bear was now huge and close in, and we wondered how sand could have been sent that far up the hill. The sandy hill marked the eastern headland of the main island harbor with the capital of Hadibu. For the first time we could distinguish tail trees and a few houses on the west side of the bay. No sign of life. No smoke. Strangely, the big island seemed deserted. New kinds of fish came out to us, and we were surrounded by at least a hundred triggerfish. Here again were plenty of Neptunus crabs. Birds too. But no people. The sea began boiling everywhere around us, far and near, in patches, vdth tiny silvery fish. Our dolphins were away hunting. There were numerous porpoises. There were even three big whales blowing water ofiP the cape. But no boat came out from the main harbor, and nobody shot at us. We began to speculate if the island could have been abandoned due to pohtical trouble or other reasons. Norman picked up a new message from Frank in Bahrain: "The German Foreign Office advise Tigris not repeat not to land on Socotra due severe difficulties [imderhned]."
We began to sail very slowly away with a faint breeze, made 1.2 knots over the surface, but the current was always against us. The surface for miles began to appear polluted, covered as if with soapsuds. The diary records:
This pollution increased in quantity as the afternoon and evening passed; it came in bands like the "red tide" and could be seen from horizon to horizon, in places packed like sheets of snow. On inspection we found it full of tiny brown eroded oil clots as in the Atlantic. We have seen the clots without the suds for days. Also we saw oily sHck mixed with the suds and drawn out in parallel strings like sHme. Terrible. And the crabs run in this filth, also the gaping dolphins in pursuit of the biUions of minute fish. All afternoon we have sailed here and there to escape the island, even tried to steer back and turn around its coast on the east cape, but all in vain. Now at 6 p.m. we steer for the same tall west cape we headed for last night; but our
position is much worse, for we are almost within the three-mile hmit. We are too close to feel comfortable. We see a few army tents on a cape where a trail runs uphill, and imagine seeing a truck beside them. But we have now also noted a considerable assemblage of huge modem concrete buildings mixed with some old Arab houses. Three of them he side by side at the waterfront like apartment houses without windows, leaving the impression of ultramodern plants contrasting the apparent wilderness aroimd. Fabulous mountains. Never have we seen a more beautiful island. Norman and I agree that it resembles Tahiti, where we had first met, with the sky-piercing pinnacles of the Diademe rising in the interior. Carlo got the idea of trying to contact Socotra or South Yemen directly with our own radio. We have tried, but no answer. The large buildings are getting closer, some are at the water's edge. No life. No movement. No wind. A desperate situation. Risk of drifting on the rocks is great.
Night came as we were right up under the land. To our great surprise we suddenly saw sharp electric Hghts turned on in great numbers in the modem blocks, and a few scattered hghts showed up elsewhere too. I closed the notes with the following words: *We are indeed too close to feel comfortable. I have given orders to hght extra kerosene lamps and turn all toward land so they know where we are and can interfere if we drift toward the perilous coast."
On March 16 the spectacular island was still right there in aU its impressive beauty. We were again immediately off the bay with the capital town of Hadibu, where the sultan at least formerly resided. We were well inside the three-mile limit, with two blowing whales right beside us. I told everybody to put away their cameras. If somebody came out we would explain our problems. If not, we were close enough to go in with our dinghy and apologize.
At breakfast time a small engine-driven dhow turned up on the opposite horizon, coming from the direction of South Yemen and heading for the island. It adjusted course to come straight for us. A few hundred yards away the engine was turned off, and the four-man black crew stood gazing at Tigris. Their open boat was loaded to the brim with huge hammerhead sharks. I sent Rashad over with HP to get some information about this mysterious island. As they came back Rashad explained that the four black fishermen had been
very friendly and spoke an Arab dialect. They had strongly recommended us to sail into this bay which had the only good landing beach. No problems on this island. People here were very friendly, the fishermen assured, and they had added that there were also "Russians and Chinese" ashore. This unUkely combination caused a good deal of amusement. The fishermen left, went in a big curve and disappeared around the distant east cape of the island.
Encouraged by their lack of uneasiness, I wanted to go ashore, since we had long since trespassed territorial waters anyhow. I summoned all the men for an important powwow. I reminded them that I had promised to hear each man's voice, time permitting, before I took any major decision on this voyage. My vote would be decisive provided I had one man's support, which would ensure that I was not entirely out of my mind. Now I wanted a vote on my plan to land on Socotra. Rashad could speak Arabian and Yuri Russian. Nobody had shot at Tigris, so surely nobody would shoot at the innocent dinghy if we openly went in with our United Nations flag and explained our awkward position. Either they had to accept us or they would have to tow us out again.
I did not overstress my proposal, for I was sure it was the only sensible thing to do and that everybody would be in accord as always so far. After all this island was incredibly beautiful; here we could certainly get fresh fruit, coconuts, poultry, steak, milk and good water. If there were Russians ashore they would surely give a friendly welcome to Yuri Alexandrovitch, who could even tell
them of the messages on the way from their own Foreign Office. Prehistoric mariners must have left some vestiges on a big island with this position. Never had I seen a piece of land that more invited exploration. But I did not voice all this. I briefly suggested my plan, and pointed out that for half an hour now we had been favored by a faint breeze blowing straight into the bay where we could beach or anchor.
Norman was the first to comment. I had never known him to be an orator, able to speak with so much enthusiasm and persuasion. To my surprise he pointed out that this faint breeze could also be taken in straight from starboard side and thus permit us to sail alongside the island and perhaps just carry us clear of the distant east cape with the triumph of continuing nonstop. It was certainly worth trying, he said. We should not cut the truly long leg of our trans-Indian Ocean voyage imtil absolutely necessary. We had a
chance to beat all our own records in nonstop reed-ship sailing. We had plenty of food and water and needed nothing. If we sailed into this bay we would have to be towed out again or hire more men ashore to help us row the heavy vessel out. Besides, some of us always became ill ashore. It was surely in the interest of the expedition leader and everybody else not to interrupt our voyage here.
Carlo hstened with an open mind. He, who had beamed with admiration when he caught sight of the splendid cluster of alpine pinnacles, was now completely uninterested in climbing. We had been at sea now for so long. It was better to take the risk of trying to clear the west cape and make straight for the Red Sea, where we could end the expedition.
The Tigris Expedition Page 39