Temperatures gradually increased as we moved further north, but the winds dropped. By the 27th we had the most unbelievably calm sea. It literally looked like a sheet of glass. We sat all night in that eerie atmosphere. Towards midnight a whale sounded right alongside, it spouted several times before I thought of getting out the Aldis lamp in order to have a good look at it. The light frightened it off, and by the time it disappeared beneath the surface I realised that I was shaking with fear.
If possible, it was even calmer on the following day even the slight swell had disappeared. David has a picture he took from the anchor cat which shows his toes reflected on the water. Land was spotted at 8.23 a.m.- a faint blob beneath a bank of cloud. We were seeing Mahé from about sixty-five miles offshore. We motored throughout the day and switched the engine off at dusk. We had no intention of entering a strange harbour in the dark if we could help it. We decided to drift in international waters just outside the twelve mile limit. At sunset we were buzzed by what appeared to be a small military aircraft. I had to do a quick scramble for cover as I had been sitting on the pilothouse roof in my version of 'the Emperor's new suit'.
Soon after the departure of the aeroplane we were further investigated by the most ugly creature I have ever seen. David spotted it first and called for me to get his camera. All I could see at first was a boiling, seething mass of movement off the starboard quarter. The churning was caused by two pilot-fish - each about three feet in length. They were piloting a large brownish fish with creamy coloured spots along its back. This creature was - we estimated - between twenty-five and thirty feet long, and turned out to be a whale shark. They are, apparently, very curious creatures as we found out for ourselves when it proceeded to nose its way alongside, gently bumping us along the starboard side of the hull. Eventually it swam slowly away from our stern. We thought it was feeding on the millions of tiny copper coloured things swimming on the surface of the calm sea. We raised some of these in a bucket for closer inspection but were unable to tell just what they were. My guess was that they were some kind of plankton, but I had always understood that plankton was microscopically small, so I was probably mistaken.
3. One Thousand Miles from Anywhere
We set off early on Friday, 28th November, once again under motor, for Victoria Harbour. On arrival at the harbour light we were immediately boarded by a host of very officious gun-toting individuals. The customs, health and immigration people were not too bad. It was the naval officer and his machine-gun-wielding lackeys who gave us a hard time. We were interrogated about the supposed third crew member whom the Lieutenant Commander claimed to know we had aboard. What had we done with him? Where were his papers? Why was he no longer on board? Who were we trying to fool saying we had made the passage with just two people on such a big boat? His band of yobbos searched the boat from stem to stern, even going through our photo albums page by page. They clumped about in hobnailed boots; I don't think they knew the 'shoes off' rule commonly followed on small boats. We had to re-stow all our goods in order to have the booze sealed into the settee lockers in the saloon. Eventually, they left us and indicated we could proceed to the designated yacht anchorage within the harbour. This yacht basin was crammed with boats of every description, both local and visiting. Given the poor holding ground, we were somewhat surprised at how close to one another they were anchored. Once we had set our anchor, we had a quick lunch, launched the dinghies and set off into town to try to make a couple of phone calls.
By the time we had got ourselves sorted out, the banks had closed and we had no means of getting any money. We had two important calls to make, one to Margaret and one to Tony. We knew we could call Margaret collect, but we could hardly do the same to Tony who was at work. We ended up asking Margaret to contact him for us. The calls could not be delayed as everything was about to close down for three days. Victoria was preparing for a papal visit. (David later joined the crowds at the National Stadium to see the Pope's arrival and hear the mass.) We were told everything would stay closed till Tuesday.
Message sent, we set off into the town for our first taste of the Seychelles. What a culture shock. After Mauritius this was really quite something. Broad, clean streets with proper pavements and neat grass verges bordered with tropical plants. Very westernised shops with their wares artistically and neatly displayed, unlike the jumble in the retail establishments of Port Louis. We did, eventually, manage to change some cash and went in search of the fresh produce market, hoping to find something left on the stalls. There was very little choice and even the local vegetables and fruit were very expensive. Most produce was imported from East Africa. One thing we found to be good value was the packs of spices. These were available as either curry or sweet spice selections in either ground or whole form.
The Seychelles archipelago is situated about one thousand miles from any other large population centre (the population at that time was about sixty-four thousand). It comprises almost one hundred islands covering an area of approximately 160,000 square miles of ocean, nearly twice Great Britain's land area. Seychelles' land area, though, only totals about one hundred and sixty square miles. The islands are unusual in that there are two distinctly different types. Low lying coral atolls, covered with sand and a few palm trees, and granite islands that have higher profiles and are typified by small cliffs and enormous boulders on the beach. The people, known as Seychellois, are descended from Africans, Indians and Asiatics, with - for good measure - a tiny dose of European too. Dark skinned, with essentially Eurasian features, we sensed they were much slower to smile than the islanders we had met elsewhere - almost as though they were looking over their shoulders, conscious of being constantly watched.
Victoria harbour was tucked under a high and quite steep outcrop covered in deep green vegetation. Cloud drifted over the summit of this hill almost the whole time we were there. The heat in the shelter of the basin was phenomenal, and we had no awnings rigged to shelter us from the merciless onslaught of the sun.
On our arrival we were granted the two week visa generally issued to visiting yachts. We had to submit an application for an extended visa if we wanted to stay any longer. There were additional special permits needed if we wished to go to any of the designated anchorages on the outlying islands or elsewhere on Mahé. We planned to get the application in and processed before Tony's arrival, then go to either La Digue or Praslin for Christmas. We also needed time to carry out permanent repairs on Tin Hau's foremast tabernacle. We had not done these in Mauritius, having decided instead to await Tony's arrival - no one in Mauritius could touch his expertise. Our temporary repair had certainly been good enough for the coastal cruising there, and David had gambled that it would also be good enough for the relatively easy passage to the Seychelles (we did not have a lot of choice). However, it was not a good idea to go any further without carrying out these repairs, as we had less confidence in the weather and sea conditions beyond the Seychelles.
In view of all the uncertainties, David and I decided we would do little or no sightseeing until after Tony had joined us. We used our time to get things done on Tin Hau. We made sail covers, looked for a boatyard, and started making arrangements to buy and import an autopilot. We'd reached the point of feeling it was a necessity - we didn't want any more manual steering on short-handed passages. Delivery of parts and equipment for boats was said to be relatively easy in the Seychelles. David wrote letters of enquiry to various autopilot manufacturers around the world, and we took advantage of the postal service to send out about one hundred Christmas cards, using postcards as these were easier to find.
Something we always do when we arrive for a lengthy stay in a new country is to register with the British High Commission. We did this in Victoria. As a result we were invited to attend a cocktail party aboard some visiting Royal Navy ships, HMS Andromeda and HMS Nottingham, accompanied by the RFA Orange Leaf. We were the only guests to arrive by water and had a fairly undignified scramble up the quay wall near the gang
plank where all the ratings were lined up, resplendent in their whites. Other guests were being dropped off in chauffeur-driven vehicles. Our somewhat dishevelled appearance did not preclude us from being greeted with smart salutes and being piped aboard like everyone else.
Officers told us the Royal Navy had not had an easy time on arrival either. First of all they had had to re-anchor three good sized ships because the authorities were not happy with the places they had selected. Then they were moved a second time. They were not allowed alongside till virtually the last minute, which had made their arrangements much more difficult. The final straw came when they were told they would have to leave before five o'clock in the morning. I got the impression they were no more charmed with their reception than we were with ours.
In spite of the heat and humidity, David found the energy to take several longish early morning walks to various parts of the island with Dusty, Tasmanian owner of a very attractive wooden boat called Sagan. On one occasion (on a public road) they found themselves being grilled by armed men. What are you doing? Where are you going? Where have you been? Apparently they were within close range of the State President's house. Like many leaders of similar countries France Albert René the head of state, was paranoid about his personal security. Anyone and everyone who was in any way out of the ordinary, either in looks or in behaviour, was immediately and automatically deemed a suspicious character. This was evident from David's walking incident, from our interrogation on arrival, and particularly from our subsequent treatment.
Our two week period was drawing to a close. We had quietly completed a number of outstanding jobs and managed to get to know some of the other cruising folk. We'd spent several hours in the delightful, friendly, yacht club and had received daily parcels of mail from different collection points. Some letters, well out of date, had travelled backwards and forwards several times before finally reaching us.
On our 13th day in Victoria, David went to the immigration office to find out how our application to remain was progressing. He was shattered to be told that we were not being granted an extension and that we should prepare to leave the following day! David patiently explained to them that it was practically impossible for us to leave at such short notice as we were unseaworthy owing to damage and being short-handed. At this information, they agreed to defer a decision until we had been visited by an inspector from the harbour office who would assess the damage. This inspector came and inspected and told us he would recommend that we be granted an extension of at least three weeks in order to carry out essential repair work.
The following day, Friday, we received a summons from the immigration office. This summons did not reach us until half past four in the afternoon. David shot up there and was astounded to be handed our passports, already stamped out of the country with that day's date - Friday, 12th December, 1986. He was given the following letter:
Mr. David Chidell Our Ref: IMM/7/4/2
Skipper Yacht 'Tin Hau’
c/o Seychelles Yacht Club 12th December, 1986
Victoria.
Dear Mr. Chidell,
RE: YOUR APPLICATION FOR EXTENSION OF YOURS AND YOUR WIFE'S VISITORS PERMITS
Reference is hereby made to your above application, but I am to inform you that your request has not been approved.
You are henceforth informed to make the necessary arrangements to leave Seychelles this very day (i.e. 12/12/86).
Yours sincerely,
S. POMPEY
FOR: DIRECTOR OF IMMIGRATION AND CIVIL STATUS
David left that office, shaking with emotion. Can you imagine the responsibility of trying to mobilise a sailing vessel at such short notice? How could the authorities in a country so involved with the sea show such a total lack of understanding of nautical matters? First, it takes time to plan a route and a sailing boat cannot just leave in any weather. Second, one requires time to replenish stocks of food, fuel and water. Third, the crew needs to be in a rested state, both physically and mentally. Finally, what on earth were we going to do about Tony's arrival on Sunday? We had no way of getting in touch with him to apprise him of the situation.
At this point we decided it would be wise to contact the British representatives on the island in the hope that they could find out why we were being refused the time needed to get Tin Hau into order. We went ashore to make a phone call to the British High Commission, the first time we had ever made an appeal for help to any British government department, at home or abroad. David was told that unless he was arrested and jailed there was little they could do before Monday. We would have to sort out our own problems in the meantime.
As though there were not enough reasons already, we hadn't a hope of complying with the demand to leave that day because we could not get to the harbour office - it was closed - and they had our ship's papers. We could not leave without these. So we decided to lie low throughout the weekend till it was time to go to the airport for Tony. That we did, by bus - half fearful of being picked up and arrested as illegal immigrants. There we met up with an expatriate friend who had kindly offered transport back.
Once we had Tony safely installed on the boat with us we explained the situation to him, pointing out our options as we saw them. First, we could appeal to the authorities for time just to get the work done, then leave the Seychelles, with Tony finishing his holiday on board another boat (Dusty and Mary - and others - had offered to have him). Second, we could appeal for time to get the main work done, then put out to sea for the remainder of his stay, returning to Victoria just before the day of his return flight. Third, we could leave as the authorities wanted - with Tony if he so wished - but with the risks of an unseaworthy boat and of being short-handed... to sail where? Our choices of destination were severely limited at that time of the year. Back where we came from was out of the question because of cyclones. West to Mombasa was possible, but how were we to know if the authorities there would allow us to stay? North to the Red Sea? David did not want to tackle that difficult area without first having the chance to improve Tin Hau's seaworthiness. The only real choice was east to the Chagos archipelago, British Indian Ocean Territory, directly downwind and as far away from anywhere as the Seychelles. It was uninhabited, except for one atoll, Diego Garcia, leased to the United States as a military base. As far as we knew, we would be allowed to stay there until the winds were favourable for the onward passage to Sri Lanka. This would mean at least five months anchored within a deserted atoll. There was something extremely attractive about that proposition after all our troubles with governments and authorities.
We discussed all these possibilities with Tony and decided to see what would happen ashore the following day. Assuming the worst, Tony adamantly declared that he would go with us; we needn't worry about being short-handed. Also, he would help solve the problem of the foremast tabernacle, somehow. He was not one to desert his friends in a time of need, he insisted, whatever the cost to himself.
Once again, it looked as though Tony was going to be our lifeline, and he had only come to us for a brief holiday! We scanned the two charts we had of the Chagos archipelago and concluded that the target to aim for - mentioned by other yotties as being good - was Salomon Atoll.
On the Monday morning we armed ourselves with a long letter of appeal to the immigration authority explaining our position and how we could now - because of Tony - get our repair work done quite quickly. We took a copy of this letter to the High Commissioner and asked him to get us an interview with a senior officer at Immigration - as high up as possible. This he did - first having thanked them for not having arrested us over the weekend! He then asked for some indication as to why we were being treated in this manner. The answer to that was that it was a matter of internal security. The High Commissioner was no wiser than we were as to what exactly that signified. We took our letter of appeal over to Immigration and were instructed to come back at three o'clock in the afternoon for their decision. Meanwhile, we had a few hours to get emergency provisioning a
nd refuelling started.
David reported to Immigration at the appointed time and was immediately called in to the presence of the lady minister responsible for the department. He was told in no uncertain terms that we had to leave. He spent half an hour trying to have the decision reversed, but without success. Finally, he asked if we could have at least until the following day to get all our preparations done properly. This request was granted grudgingly. In view of their unreasonable attitude towards our unseaworthy state, he told them it was the least they could do. We felt their attitude was unreasonable because it is accepted virtually anywhere in the world that boats or ships in distress have the right to be able to enter a port for the purposes of repair or to seek shelter during serious heavy weather conditions or when medical problems warrant such action. Furthermore, according to David's notes on maritime law, the decision as to whether a ship or boat is seaworthy or not rests entirely with the master of the vessel. In addition, insufficient crew is, in itself, enough to make a boat unseaworthy for certain voyages. We had been able to make considerable use of Number Seven between Mauritius and the Seychelles, as the winds had been mainly from the beam. But the downwind passage to the Chagos islands would be altogether different - skilful and physically tiring manual steering would be necessary all the way, with the possibility of accidental gybes ever-present. Add to that the dubious tabernacle, still unrepaired. We were convinced that the Seychelles government was contravening international maritime law, but they obviously did not see it that way. The impoundment of Tin Hau was beginning to look like a distinct possibility. We really did have to go.
Cutting the Dragon's Tail Page 16