Cutting the Dragon's Tail

by Lynda Chidell

  A typical example of a ninety per cent job was the new exhaust fitted to the generator early on during our period in Galle. Just before returning to the UK in August, I turned on the generator. I had to turn it off again quickly because it was making a dreadful noise and there were large sparks issuing from the fan vents. What had happened was that Moditha or his assistant had somehow managed to drop a stainless steel nut, which had worked its way down and finally entered the fan casing. There it proceeded to shatter fan blades one by one, ultimately jamming the starter motor. With Wilf's help we had partially stripped it and had managed to fish out a number of the broken blade bits with a flexible strip magnet. This freed the starter motor enough to fire it up. We got the thing going but there were still sparks, coughs and wheezes.

  At this point we called in the local 'expert' mechanic. He, poor man, was only on board five minutes before he felt so sea sick he had to be ferried ashore (he had politely asked David's permission to vomit). Rather than do any further damage we decided to shelve the whole thing and wait till someone with a little more knowledge happened along. The alterations to the pilothouse seating had been made and I was anxious to cannibalise the existing cushion covers and make new ones for the new seats. In order to use my sewing machine I needed electricity. We decided to temporarily 'import' my machine into Sri Lanka and rent a room with electricity from Don for a day. It was a devil having to organise to pay bond on the machine. A lot of paperwork was involved. Once we got the machine to Don's we discovered we hadn't the right type of plug. We went out and bought one, fitted it, plugged in and... Wham! David got a nasty shock and the electronics and motor of my machine blew up. 'Oh',said Don, 'So sorry - I forgot to tell you the earth could be live'! Where else in the world would one find a live earth?

  During the first six months of our sojourn in Sri Lanka we had the company of crews from quite a few transient yachts hailing from Sweden, Switzerland, USA, Germany and Australia. There were vessels of all shapes and sizes with a wide variety of rigs. These had arrived from far flung parts and most were heading east to Thailand or beyond. Their stays in Galle varied from a week to a month. We had boats of between twenty-five and seventy-five feet in length and almost all were manned by couples on their own. We were the first boat in Galle that year waiting to go west. Eventually we were joined by a whole fleet of boats going the same way. There were one or two other 'long stay' boats, notably a very spaced-out Swiss couple who owned an Indian dhow, Aum Gaia. They had spent many years in India, and the final three of those cruising up and down the west coast learning to handle their boat. The man, Fidibus, had gone native in habits and mannerisms. They left to sail to Thailand at the tail end of the south-west monsoon season with very patched-up sails, a borrowed VHF radio and charts, and no engine. The day they left blew up very nasty with forty-five knot winds lashing us in harbour. We dread to think what it was like for them. They were relatively inexperienced and their boat's windward ability was even worse than ours. Those remaining at Galle really worried about them, and were relieved months later to hear that they had made it. However, long after we reached Cyprus, a rumour reached us that they were back in Sri Lanka again - by accident! They had attended a yottie wedding on an island off Phuket. Unable to get back to the Thai coast, their day trip had turned into an unexpected 1,200 mile downwind passage to Sri Lanka, with very little food and no water by the time they got in.

  There was a German single-hander in port for some months. He had the misfortune to be tied to the buoy closest to the big ship berth. While he was in Colombo on business one day, we watched in horror as a berthing cargo vessel was caught in a cross wind and went out of control, picking up Birgitt and the buoy on its rudder. We stood by helplessly but David had the presence of mind to take a series of photographs of the incident in the hope that it would help Löthar get some compensation for the damage. Claims were submitted and the pilot who had been in charge at the time had the nerve - even when confronted with the photographic evidence - to deny the incident had ever happened. Eventually Löthar had to leave in order to use the monsoon, and he never did get his damage paid for.

  My birthday was celebrated in Don's home, with all those yotties in port at the time. Maggie, an ex-actress on board Tanda, a large British schooner, attended as if dressed for the Queen's garden party. She was wearing a large and flowery picture hat, worn with a lovely white broderie anglaise cotton dress. She arrived by bicycle! Her husband Wilf attended in his usual scruffy boat clothes, which consisted of ripped shorts barely covering his bottom, paint-bespattered tee-shirt which rode up at the front and gave a hint of furry pot-belly, and to complete it all a towel round his neck and a farmer's hat on top. Kenny and Richenda from the yacht Sarah went to town with painted faces, which totally bewildered the customs officers and utterly confirmed their belief that yotties are crazy (most of us are). Various others attended, including Nick and Julie White, who had come down from Pelwatte for the weekend. We were kicked out of Don's at midnight and continued aboard Tin Hau until half past two in the morning. Everyone was distinctly under the weather the next day - especially ourselves, as the Whites were staying aboard Tin Hau and we had taken up where we had left off the night before.

  The tail end of the yachts heading east brought those boats sailing down to Australia to wave the British and Polish flags at the Australian bicentennial celebrations early in 1988. The tall ships of the world were congregating in Freemantle, then sailing from Hobart to Sydney. The British contingent consisted of two Nicholson 55's (Sabre and Adventure), with their support vessel, a trade wind motor-sailer of some seventy tons gross (Aztec Lady), and three crews totalling thirty-four persons.

  The Polish entry was the thirty-one year old steel ketch Joseph Conrad, with a crew of ten. Suddenly Galle was livening up socially and, with a number of nasty squalls and the British not having sorted out their anchoring techniques, there was lots of fun in the harbour with dragging anchors. Hot bunking meant the Brits were playing a kind of musical berths. We made our spare berths available to the female crew members of Sabre and Adventure to ease that problem a little. The Poles turned out to be a particularly friendly and lively bunch of young people, with a fair command of our language and a highly developed taste for folk music and sea shanties. There were several talented guitarists among them, and we enjoyed many evenings singing folk songs with our own words (English and Polish) accompanied by tunes common to both nationalities. David's accordion was a popular addition to the band. Their final night was open house on the Joseph Conrad, and a heavy night it was - Polish vodka just about blew the tops of our heads off.

  We seldom experienced less than five yachts in harbour, but the numbers had not got above ten until November, when the 'Red Sea fleet' began to arrive. Then yarn swapping started in earnest. The grapevine - where vital bits of information and gossip are exchanged - is a very important part of the small boat sailor's way of life. We always found the co-operative efforts between vessels to be outstanding, and we wish there was more of this open, giving attitude in evidence on land.

  Once the Red Sea fleet started to arrive, we suddenly had a wealth of expertise on which to draw. The generator was totally stripped down by Geoff from Arnak and Glen from St Combs, the fan was rebuilt locally, the starter motor eventually had to be repaired, and the yottie engineering team got it all back together again. Our repayment was guiding the new arrivals through all their teething troubles in Galle, boat-sitting for them when they wished to travel inland, and introducing them to the best suppliers.

  The porthole frames finally arrived towards the end of September. Fitting twenty-seven portholes at various places on the cabin sides could only be done in stages manageable between downpours. Each old frame had to be removed and the new frame offered up to the space it was to cover. This was to ensure that the boltholes were correctly positioned. In order to drill the holes accurately, David had arranged to use a drill press facility ashore. The procedure was, therefore, to mark out about si
x portholes, row them ashore, take them through customs, drill the holes, bring them back through customs, row them back to the boat, insert rubber gaskets to isolate the bronze from the steel, and bolt them in position. Bang in the middle of this exercise the customs six monthly rotation happened and we got a new chief. David was on his final trip when he was stopped by this new manager who proceeded to create problems where before none had existed. After much argument, David was allowed to pass through to get his drilling done and returned through customs with neither sight nor sign of an officer.

  The following day we were busy applying the final coat of sealant to the installation when the customs boat pulled alongside. On board, looking like a fat red turkey, hopping up and down with fury, was the new chief. Very rudely, he ordered David to report to his office immediately. David, equally angry and shaking with it, hurriedly dressed in shore clothes and rowed off to get Don before the chief returned to base. David made his appeal to Don (the friendly ten per cent yacht agent) outlining the entire farce to him. Don said that there was nothing he could do and that David would have to sort it out for himself. (What were we paying him his fee for I wonder?) David had to go and face the angry turkey and argue the toss with him as to whether or not we should have to pay 1,000 Rupees 'Cess' tax (whatever that was). We were pretty certain that there was no export tax on brass or bronze ware, which was freely available to tourists and not listed as a dutiable item at the airport. Anyway, this mad official strutted around yelling at David that 'rich' yotties could afford to pay 1,000 Rupees (about £20) easily, and why shouldn't the customs get revenue from yachts? He ended up telling David that he would not issue our clearance papers without our paying the tax in question. David laughed that threat off with the news that we weren't leaving till December and he agreed to pay the so-called 'Cess' tax if the chief could produce the customs tariff code book and show the category under which we were liable. Nothing further happened for several weeks. Then, out of the blue, the officer visited Tin Hau with about thirty friends and relations. We gave them a free guided tour and some suitable refreshment. Miraculously, the whole business of 'Cess' tax was forgotten. Another battle with officialdom was over. Although worn down, this time we felt we had won.

  The longer we stayed in Sri Lanka, the more we realised the depths of corrupt practices that were not immediately apparent. During the British forces visit we discovered that Don had presented a bill to the captain of each boat for food and drink. We all knew that the individual crew members had paid for their own drinks. The final insult was delivered when the British High Commissioner was also presented with a bill for the same food and drink.

  I had got myself into some hot water during that visit. Two of the girls who had used our bunking facilities had asked me to take them to Mrs Da Silva's batik factory. This I had willingly done, and we had a lovely morning with her and her girls. We were, as usual, pressed to stay for lunch; this was really appreciated by the two young ladies, as they had seen nothing of Sri Lanka during their brief stay. They had also enjoyed the novelty of the CTB bus rides there and back. Don got to hear of this visit and of how much they spent down at Habaraduwa. He was furious with me because I had done him out of a twenty to twenty-five per cent backhander which he would have had for sending them to his 'pet' batik shop.

  It appeared that we were already in his bad books for having chosen to shop where we did and not at one of his suppliers. Our suppliers, Bandula and Mike, were new to the yacht provisioning business. David and I were their first non-Sinhalese customers. We requested items they did not stock, and even though they were a small family business, they were willing to take the chance of buying in things that we required. This forward-looking attitude, the service they were prepared to offer, and their efforts to please paid off for them in the end. We recommended them to all the yachtsmen. This turned them into stiff competition for Don's suppliers. They had, quite rightly, refused to give Don any commission.

  Bandula and Mike became much more than just the local village store. They became good friends, too, with whom we are still in touch. We understand that they are now quoted in the pilots and guides used by yotties and seamen in that part of the world. Their good fortune is well deserved.

  It may appear, from what I have written about him, that Don Windsor was a bit of a crook. This was not the case. One must remember that we were dealing with a system different to our own. What we call corruption others see as good business practice. Unfortunately, some of the yotties were not prepared to see the difference and were convinced they were being ripped off by all and sundry, but especially by Don. The ringleader of this group of yotties was Wilf of Tanda. By virtue of the fact that we had been there longest, and probably knew him best, we felt it was our duty to defend Don, many an hour was spent trying to convince Wilf (known as 'the Filth') that Don was running a business according to the customs of his country, not waging a vendetta against foreigners. Our words fell on deaf (or heavily inebriated) ears, and eventually there was a showdown between the two. Don solved the whole thing by banning Wilf the Filth from his home and grounds.

  One of the features of Sri Lanka which I have not yet mentioned are the cool spots. A cool spot is a small wayside stall providing refreshment for the traveller. They mainly sell tea and soft drinks and snacks called appa (more commonly known as 'hoppas', a sort of pancake with a fried egg in the middle. There was a cool spot right outside the customs post at Galle harbour, which we used regularly. Cooking could be a pig of a job in the heat and humidity. We had a regular booking for a Sunday evening meal with the family who ran the cool spot. They opened up specially for this group of yotties and provided us with a super meal for 25p each. The meal consisted of a pile of rice with four vegetable curries and a little omelette or dried fish, a glass of tea, a small soft drink, and a tiny wrapped sweetmeat to finish. The cool spot was in a small block-built garage-like structure, with a door at the back leading to the garden of the owner's home. There was nothing other than a glass counter and four tables and chairs in the 'shop'. There was no front door. When we arrived - usually in torrential rain - we had to call out and the grandfather would come round through the garden in to the shop and pull out three long planks from a hole in the front wall to let us in. Power cuts were frequent, so there were always plenty of candles ready stuck on saucers and bottle necks for our use. There was no menu - the food would just be what we were given. Our only choice was the type of soft drink we could start with. Simple though it was, it was a place we always felt welcome and at home and had many happy hours both with other yotties and the delightful family who ran it.

  By the beginning of December, we had finished all our re-fitting jobs and were only awaiting some work we had put in the hands of a local carpenter. We decided we'd like to get away from Sri Lanka by mid-December and have Christmas at sea once again. David had arranged to take on the young man we had met earlier in the year as crew, together with another chosen for us in England by Derek Chidell, the main reason for crew being that we had not tested our Autohelm and didn't know if or how well it would work. David felt that the extra hands and eyes could be vital in the Red Sea. I must confess that I was reluctant to have anyone else on board and was feeling very anti-crew, principally because I disliked the loss of privacy and freedom, and having crew doubled my own workload. In addition to standing all my usual watches and so on, I had double the provisioning to work out, and double the planning and cooking. Skipper's decision overruled my reservations and word was sent to Darren (who was in India at the time) and to Martyn in England that they should report aboard by 15th December, ready for departure a few days after that.

  David got on with planning the route, allowing for various possible stops to take on water, fuel and provisions. This was an important preparation for the voyage ahead, as there were so many politically sensitive areas and places it would be advisable to avoid. Time had to be allowed for the fact that there would be long stops in the northern part of the Red Sea waiting for
the right weather. Because the prevailing winds in that sector are from the north to north-west, it was unlikely that Tin Hau would be able to do much under sail. Calms or near calms would be necessary for economic progress under power. Our pilots and routeing charts showed that these happened only rarely.

  At the time there were rumours galore that Aden (South Yemen) had an epidemic of meningitis. The Australians were being advised by their embassy to head for Djibouti on the African mainland instead. David wrote to the British authorities in Aden, who replied that the incidence of meningitis was no worse there than anywhere else in the region - that food, water and fuel were freely available, and that they would love us to visit. What a change to find an embassy that welcomed cruising yachtsmen.

  Whatever the outcome of David's planning deliberations, there was no doubt that the next leg of the voyage of Tin Hau was going to be challenging. The route is known to be one of the more difficult passages for ocean cruisers to make. We would be relieved to have it behind us.

  PART FOUR

  The Arabian and Red Seas

  David Chidell

  1. Decisions

  At long last the time had come for Tin Hau to be on the move once again. We had arrived in Galle in April in the knowledge that we could be there for perhaps as long as eight months, but there were no immediate pressures on us to decide where to go to next. As we had seen it, there were two main options and we could wait until July or so before making a decision as to which one to follow.

  Plan 'A' was to turn right and go east. This would mean departure from Galle any time before November to pick up the wet south-west monsoon for a 1,100 mile ten to fifteen day crossing of the Bay of Bengal to Phuket in Thailand. We would then remain in that area and commence life as a charter boat.