We owe a debt of gratitude to Jean-Marc Gabriel for being willing to slot into the sixth berth at the last minute. His practical skills were valuable so many times. His physical strength and stamina took a lot of beating.
Our intrepid 'pioneer of the last frontier', Barry, had never set foot on a sailing boat before but cast his lot in with ours for the duration - whatever it might yield. His unflagging enthusiasm for getting the most out of each new experience was very moving. He gave us so much in the way of entertainment as well as a magnificent treasure trove of pictures which span the life of Tin Hau from birth to the loss of her maidenhood.
Jax, that little girl who joined us for the adventure of a lifetime and who returned to her parents a much matured young woman, proved her worth beyond anyone's expectations. She was always cheerful, even though she must have been dreadfully homesick at times and terrified at others. Jacqui is that rarity - a natural at the helm of the boat. She was willing to take on any job to ensure the smooth running of her watch, and the same for the efficient running of the ship. When the rest of the crew had to leave us to return to their 'other' lives, Jax remained with us for another few months. I'm glad she could and did stay on to enjoy Tin Hau in pleasanter circumstances; it was a just reward for her determination and sheer hard work during the trying times.
No words can express what it meant to have Jeff, our far too modest watch leader and Skipper's right hand, with us. He offered patient support in all things, right from the earliest planning stages. Knot Often was the most admired dinghy wherever she went, and we had loads of fun in her. We could never have done as good a job of building her as he did. Jeff's dry sense of humour and wonderful enjoyment of ridiculous things gave us endless pleasure and helped to keep things in proportion when so often they may have grown too much to bear. We still owe you an 'easy' sail on Tin Hau, Jeff.
A skipper's job is never an easy one. David's was no simpler for having a raw crew and untried ship to command. He was surely the most patient skipper in the Indian Ocean, and kept us all together without a cross word. We were all full of admiration for his navigation skills (rare in these days of Satnav), which were spot on.
As for myself? Well, I survived to tell this tale and more...
PART THREE
Indian Ocean Islands
Lynda Chidell
1. Land of the Dodo
We had a total of four and a half months in Mauritius - just long enough to get a feel for the island and its very varied people. It was a colourful country in every sense of the word. The tropical vegetation was not just the gold and green associated with swaying palm trees, but a whole rainbow of bougainvillaea hues from the palest lemon to vivid reds and purples. So many of the plants growing wild and in gardens were of varieties seen by the rest of the world only in hot houses and botanical gardens. The pride of all flowers in Mauritius was the wonderful anthurium, the beautiful waxy lily-like flower grown in shades of pink, orange and red.
The population of the island was no less colourful, drawing, as it did, from four ethnic groups French/English Europeans (generally ex-colonists), Indians (mostly ex-slaves or indentured labourers from the sugar plantations), Africans (mostly ex-slaves) and Chinese (immigrants over the last century). The year before our arrival the population had passed the one million mark. So many people occupying such a small area of land (thirty-five miles by twenty miles) should be applauded for their example on how easy it is for diverse groups to co-exist in relative harmony. Each follow their own cultural traditions and religions, giving rise to a number of festivals and holidays, many of them celebrated publicly in the streets of the villages and towns. We witnessed the Festival of Lights (Divalee), but regret we missed the Chinese dragon festival, where homage is paid to Tin Hau. Jax was invited to an Indian wedding a great honour for her, as it was a traditional wedding to which tourists would not usually be invited.
During our stay we managed to get to most parts of the island. We went to many places aboard the boat, but started inland explorations with a hired Mini-Moke. That did not last long as driving around was a nightmarish experience. Driver behaviour was definitely French in flavour, although people drove on the left side of the road. Roads were narrow, often dirt tracks. Cyclists and pedestrians abounded, not to mention household pets and next week's bacon. Animals were a continual hazard, and if we were not wide awake we were likely to get a thorough soaking from the overhead irrigation systems adorning the cane fields. The fields occupied every available inch of arable land on the island. Sugar was the main export, with textiles close behind.
We visited various places with Tin Hau. Cap Malhereux/Kuxville was the northernmost place where we anchored. We dropped our hook just off the private beach belonging to the small holiday complex owned and run by a charming German couple, Fritz and Elke Kux. They invited us to take Tin Hau into their anchorage; it was probably the largest boat ever to have done so. We measured 0.9 metres on the echo sounder and knew that we touched at 0.8 metres (add 0.8 metres for the true depth). We must have scraped over the reef at high tide. It was a fairly unsheltered anchorage and the only protection was provided by the surrounding reef. It was there that Mark and Tandy had their first taste of coral reef diving and tropical fish viewing.
Grande Baie, the north-western end of Mauritius, was our base for the duration of our stay. It is a large enclosed bay, well protected from the wind and sea, and our choice of 'cyclone hole' should we have needed one. Moreover there were no mooring charges or regulations. Grande Baie was built up on all sides, though not so one felt it had in any way been spoilt by development. The entire village of Grande Baie consisted of a main road which wound round the bay, with a few small branch roads and little else. Buildings were more or less all on the landward side of the road, leaving the beach with palms and casuarinas clear down to the water. The village was well endowed with restaurants, including three Chinese, 'la Jonque' (how apt), 'la Pagode' and 'la Charette' All kinds of 'noddles' were listed on the menu including 'shrink fried' ones, presumably meant to be shrimp fried noodles. A steakhouse owned by Nobby someone-or-other, 'Phil's Pub' offering European-style pub grub, and two excellent French restaurants, 'le Grillon' and 'la Perle Noire' At one time or other we tried them all (they were not expensive), and found each to be good.
Grande Baie had a notorious roll. Boats at anchor were constantly moving to the rhythm of the sea. Even when the ocean beyond the reef appeared calm, there would be a gentle rocking to and fro.
Sound is greatly amplified when it passes across the water and this was something we experienced in no small way in Mauritius. During one of our spells in Grande Baie the local elections were being held. The candidates drove around from midday until mid-evening, exhorting the local populace to vote for them, daily for two weeks. We felt very uncomfortable having to listen to this electronically amplified racket, doubled in volume, passing across the water. We were also bombarded by what we took to be an eisteddfod taking place in the nearby Hindu temple. Next door to this was the Moslem mosque (complete with minaret and muezzin calling the faithful to prayer at the prescribed hours every day). The somewhat quieter Catholic church was also nearby.
There were a few tourist hotels including probably the best on the island. Grande Baie was definitely the place for visiting yachts to head once formalities had been completed at Port Louis. It was a must for all those boats on the 'coconut run' (circumnavigators doing the Australia-South Africa-Panama-Pacific route). Réunion islanders with sailboats tripped across for weekends and holidays. And there were South Africans doing a three to six month stint of island hopping. The lovely yacht club in Grande Baie opened its doors to all who wished to join as temporary members. On Bastille Day the French contingent arrived from Réunion, rafted up their boats and proceeded to throw the most magnificent party for yachtsmen and yachtswomen from all over the world. We met and made friends with so many people during our stay a number of them transients like ourselves, but others who lived and worked on that
lovely island.
Port Louis, the capital of Mauritius, was probably the scruffiest and smelliest town I ever had the doubtful pleasure of visiting. If one could just hold one's nose long enough to get from the harbour to the up-town area, then it was a fascinating and rewarding place to explore. Like most capital cities, it was sectioned into distinct areas with differing functions. Where we found one 'Quincaillerie' we would find a whole host. In Port Louis, they occupied a whole street a stone's throw from Chinatown. The latter consisted of numerous little stores - all with the same jumble of brightly coloured plastic whatnots vying for one's attention with pyramids of equally interesting looking jars, tins, packets and boxes filled with curious cure-alls of the traditional Chinese medicinal kind. All the buildings housing these were once so beautiful - chalet style, with steep pitched roofs of timber shingle and pretty shutters at the windows. When we saw them, the shutters hung from rusty, broken hinges and little paint remained on the woodwork. All had seen better days. Of the two or three floors, the upper ones were used as homes or gambling dens. At night the click and clack of Mah Jongh tiles and poker chips formed part of the background buzz of the city.
All government buildings and offices were painted a cool grey. Government House was no exception. Standing in the square beneath this once imposing building, flanked by two magnificent 'flamboyante' trees, was a statue of Queen Victoria. What amused (or should I say bemused) us was the attached plaque, which described the late lamented as 'Our much regretted Queen' We have yet to find out if it was her association with Mauritius or her death which was much regretted...
You may get a negative impression of Port Louis if I continue in this vein. There was a great deal to be enjoyed and admired about the place; for example, the natural history section of the museum, and the Merchant Navy Club, which offered hospitality to visiting yachtsfolk - a relaxing, cool refuge in a steamy town.
Riviére Noire is a small village at the south-western end of the island. It is shown on the map as two distinct sections, Petite and Grande - we tried the former, but chickened out as the depth sounder showed less and less water under our keel. We mainly visited the Grande section when we went down south. It is a large indentation in the land mass, with high hills giving good protection from all directions except to seaward. There is no reef protection. In the unlikely event of the wind coming off the sea, it was advisable to get out. It was utterly peaceful - especially after the bustle of Port Louis - and was the only place in Mauritius where we were aware of land birds. Unrestricted views of the sun setting over the sea were marvellous. From there, too, many of the tourist 'musts' were much more accessible. We made forays inland to Cassela Bird Park – magical - and La Vanille Crocodile and Monkey Farm. We travelled up the Black River Gorge to the falls (written about by Gerald Durrell in Golden Bats and Pink Pigeons), and tried to get to Chamarel to see the coloured sands. Black River was the centre of the big game fishing industry. Marlin of gigantic proportions were regularly caught from boats operating out of the area, then taken back for processing in the smoking factory. Smoked marlin was a delicacy on the island.
Some of our readers will be wondering how we kept ourselves occupied. Our days became less routine than for years, and no attention was paid to clocks or calendars. We kept an ongoing list of jobs which needed doing on board and each of us had daily chores to get through. Other than working on these, we spent most of our time getting to know the land and its people, and trying out new and unusual local foodstuffs.
We also spent time reading about the history of Mauritius and generally absorbing the atmosphere, in preparation for what might be the start of some charter work.
Even though the area we had originally planned to do charter work was Greece, we wondered if perhaps we had already reached the ideal spot. Calmish seas (on the west coast, at least). Good sailing winds. Sunshine. Coral reefs and interesting bays, all close to a perfect base, Grande Baie. Moreover there were hundreds of holiday-makers keen to spend some of their time afloat, especially on an unusual looking boat. We thought we should try day-chartering instead of our initial plan of having guests on board for periods of a week or more. With Tin Hau's large amount of deck space, day chartering would work well. So why should we go any further?
We started making discreet enquiries about the regulations. David did all the ground and leg work on this, and spent hours to-ing and fro-ing between the boat and the official departments twelve miles away in Port Louis. He was assured, at the highest government level, that chartering was 'No problem' (the stock phrase for everything in Mauritius - even printed on souvenir tee shirts). He was guided by the Minister of Tourism into the maze of officialdom he had to negotiate in order to legalise our intentions. We duly set out to comply with all the requirements, which seemed quite reasonable. The first step was a survey by the Mauritius marine authority - quickly accomplished, and Tin Hau was certified as having passed muster at the scrutiny. The other two requirements were a work permit and a residence permit.
At this stage in the proceedings we were approached by the owner/skipper of one of the charter boats operating in Grande Baie. He asked if we would be prepared to consider a link-up with his operation. We had been very impressed by his methods - or what we could see of them - and of the three extant charter companies operating out of Grande Baie, his was by far the best. We agreed, after a great deal of discussion, to go into an association with him and his wife. Desmond and Terry Cohen had started their business with Hummingbird, a sleek modern yacht. They had reached a point where they had more guests than they could handle and needed a second string to their bow. As they had many repeat guests they were happy at the idea of being able to offer a different kind of sail as part of their package. They had cornered the upmarket end of the trade and Desmond's marketing strategy had secured their future for some time.
Their idea was to retain us for a given number of day charters per month at a fixed rate, and any extra days were to be paid on a fee-per-charter basis. Des and Terry would see to all the catering for both boats at their shore base as well as looking after all the administration work. All that and heaven too... Yes, well, it did seem too good to be true. All we needed to set the whole thing in motion were two bits of paper. David made numerous visits, wrote endless letters and made lots of phone calls to try to speed things up so we could start work in November. Nothing seemed to help. We had endless visits from officials from this and that department (complete with uncles and aunts); a veritable stream of visits from magistrates and police officers, leading to impromptu tea parties aboard Tin Hau.
During this time we had Margaret over for a visit from the UK, and between the official visits we were able to do some sightseeing with her. We also introduced her to the wonders of snorkelling on coral reefs.
Just before she left us at the end of October, we received a bombshell of a letter, a reply to our months of hard endeavour:
IP 111/86-1 Passport and Immigration Office,
Police Headquarters,
Port Louis,
Mauritius.
29th October, 1986
Sir,
I am directed to inform you that your application for a residence permit has not been approved.
You and Mrs Lynda Elizabeth Chidell should leave Mauritius forthwith.
I am,
Sir,
Your Obedient Servant
Passport and Immigration Officer
Mr. David Wallace Michael Chidell,
c/o Yacht Tin Hau,
Grand Baie Yacht Club,
GRAND BAY
The signature was illegible, but the letterhead looked official enough. We had had our answer. Not the one we had wanted or were expecting - in fact it was all totally unfathomable - but at least someone somewhere had given a firm instruction.
With the onset of the cyclone season imminent we had to make a vitally important decision. Should we stay and fight the decision? If so, what would we then do if our appeal failed? We didn't want to set o
ff to sea knowing that we might have to contend with a cyclone. Or should we leave within the next few days before there was any possibility of a cyclone, just the two of us, towards a very uncertain but, perhaps, exciting future?
Our immediate decision was to enjoy the three remaining days of Margaret's stay and then sort out our problems in ('no problem') Mauritius.
By this time, too, we had lost Jacqui, who had returned home to start her university education.
Once we were on our own again, we made up our minds. We would head northwards to the Seychelles. The prospect of one thousand miles of trade wind sailing across an ocean was appealing. David had had enough of his endless trips to Port Louis and ceaseless interrogations at the police station (at one stage he saw a piece of paper stating that 'D.W.M. Chidell is not wanted by Interpol'. Although we were bitterly disappointed not to be working with Desmond and Terry, the time had come to leave.
Our most urgent task was to provision the boat. This would have to be for one year, as we had no idea of what lay ahead and no time to find out. Des and Terry, though devastated by our ill-fortune (and theirs), helped us through that hectic run-around in every way they could. They accompanied us down to Port Louis on the eve of our departure and spent the evening with us at the Merchant Navy Club. We all had a fairly shrewd idea of why things had gone wrong but no proof to back those suspicions. We strongly suspected that the Immigration Office had been given false information about us by persons not wanting the competition of another charter boat in Grande Baie. Perhaps the signature on the letter was not even that of a bona fide government official? Desmond and Terry worked at finding out the true reasons for our abrupt dismissal long after our departure, and though they had even stronger feelings that our ideas were right, they never did gain any conclusive proof. It was very sad saying farewell to them - they had become such good friends, and we had built such dreams together...
Cutting the Dragon's Tail Page 14