Posts By :

Phil

Above The Clouds: Climbing Mount Kinabalu

As the sun rose over the turquoise waters of Pulau Tiga, 30 nautical miles south of Kota Kinabalu, I made my way out of my comfortable bunk and onto the deck of my boat. The soothing swell of the South China Sea put a smile on my face. As I looked up to the horizon, I saw the powerful mountains of Borneo, and, rising above all, the magnificent rugged crest of Mount Kinabalu.

The tallest mountain in Malaysia gives its name to the city that lies at its feet, Kota Kinabalu. This city would be our next port, and climbing the mountain our next challenge, a dream I had been pursuing for many years.

A few hours later, we secured Dali’s lines in our berth at the Sutera Harbour Marina and made our way to the Amazing Borneo Tours office in town. They would be taking us up the mountain, providing a guide, accommodation and food during the three days and two nights it would take us to attempt the hike.

Any fit person with the necessary determination can climb Mount Kinabalu. We were told it is a tough but safe hike, yet although we have had some mountaineering experience in the past, our fitness level worried us: it was at a low after too much time spent in the city and the marina.

Our first night was spent at Sutera Sanctuary’s Lodges near the Kinabalu Park Headquarters. We felt refreshed by the low temperature but concerned by the clouds that covered the mountain with fog and rain. On a rainy day, the climb cannot be attempted. We started praying to the weather gods that watch over us at sea. Hopefully they would have their say on mountain weather as well. We went to sleep in our comfortable double bunk beds, dreaming of sunny mountaintops.

Dinner with a view at Balsam Restaurant

The next morning the clouds parted for a few minutes and revealed the mountain from a shorter distance. What a sight! Due to the tropical climate, Mount Kinabalu has the particularity to culminate at over 4000 meters while being free of all snow, a sight I had never witnessed before. The jagged granite rock speaks of the history of time and I stood still in front of the power of this mountain.

Aki Nabalu seen from the Park Headquarters

It was time to hike. A lot of steps have been carved in the soil of the mountain and facilitate the climb, but my muscles were out of practice indeed. The first section goes through the humid rainforest and we were panting and sweating but slowly making our way up. The many rest stops came as a relief. We could drink water, adjust our clothing according to the change of temperature, and entertain ourselves with adorable fat squirrels fed by the many tourists that attempt the climb everyday.

The second section got us into the rainy clouds, but the vegetation changed and revealed little fluffy trees and colourful flowers that made us feel as if were strolling through a carefully designed Japanese garden. Enthralled by the beauty of nature, we pushed through the last of the 6 kilometres that brought us up to Laban Rata, the base camp for the climb to the summit.

Bonsai Pines, Rhododendrons and Shrub Raspberries

Balcony at Laban Rata Lodge

2AM Smiles

We were extremely impressed with the quality of the facilities that we found at 3200 meters. A nice restaurant with an exceptional view, great food and very soft mattresses, an incredible achievement, taking into account the fact that every single piece of equipment has been carried up the mountain by human power. We shared our room with a lively bunch from Sarawak. Our night was short, as we had to wake up at 2AM for a very early breakfast.

The excitement grew as we started climbing in the dark. The sky was clear, and it felt as if we quickly made our way up the last steps that led us out of the trees and onto the rough granite rock that lies bare at the top of the mountain. The half moon was smiling above us and we barely used our headlights to find solid grip at every step taking us further up. I felt like I was on another planet, a soft cold breeze pushing me towards that goal I had been dreaming of for so long. Ropes helped us through the more technical passages, and we arrived at a gentle slope as the light started illuminating the sky in the east.

Reaching the Summit at Sunrise

My breath got shorter due to altitude, but I was on a high. We could finally see the summit, and the lights of the climbers ahead of us set a final goal for our heavy legs. The last steps were slow but determined. The sky finally turned pink as we touched the summit of Mount Kinabalu, 4095 meters above the sea. We had reached our goal. We put on all the layers of clothes we had and enjoyed the breathtaking view.

The next part was pure joy: a couple of hours on top of the world, the sun piercing out of the horizon, playing with the texture of the granite and warming our bodies. I had never seen anything like it. The sweeping clouds far beneath us contrasting with the sharp peaks of the mountain created a feeling of elevation I wished I could hold onto forever. Everywhere I looked, I was in awe. Iva and I looked at each other, a huge smile on our faces, no words needed to express our feelings. The long strenuous journey up the mountain suddenly felt like a forgetful detail of my favourite hike up to this day. I thought of my family, my friends, and the rest of living beings on this planet. All I could wish for was for them to experience a similar feeling, at least just for one short moment in their lives.

Climb Mount Kinabalu

Experience the adventure we went on by booking a 3D2N package that will take you to the summit of Mount Kinabalu at 4,095 metres above sea level!

Top 5 Surprising Discoveries during the filming of “Dreamcatchers”

The first season of Dreamcatchers was filmed while sailing aboard our boat Dali around Indonesia. This exciting journey was full of thrills! Here are the 5 surprising discoveries we will never forget:

1. The Mystical Shores of Lake Toba

During the 8 months of our trip we only left our boat once, in the city of Sibolga on the West coast of Sumatra. We rented a car and drove up into the mountains to discover the magical Lake Toba, created thousands of years ago by the biggest volcanic eruption the world has ever seen. The cool air of the mountains, the lovely Batak people and the Tugu graves surrounding the giant lake give this area of Sumatra a very special feel.

2. The Engine Failure

As we reached the most remote island we had visited, Pulau Sanding off the West coast of Sumatra, our engine broke down. We were on a deserted island with no possible outside help, and to make matters worse, our satellite phone and SSB radio stopped working: a tribute to the expression “when it rains, it pours”. Luckily, our boat has sails. We had to dig deep in our mental resources, change our plans and sail towards Jakarta against the strong wind and waves.

3. The Encounter with an Orca

We left Pulau Sanding, with no communication and no working engine, the boat healed on its side and hitting the waves. Our moral was low and we were starting to have enough of this trip. The following might seem hard to believe but it actually happened: 10 seconds after I said out loud “I would love to see a whale to cheer us up” a giant fin came out of the water and headed for the boat. As it got closer, it turned to its side and the black and white body of an Orca came out of the water. Iva and I looked at each other in disbelief. This supernatural event gave us the strength to continue our journey.

4. The Power of Krakatau Volcano

As we dropped our anchor in front of the active volcano of Anak Krakatau, we realized we had discovered our favorite anchorage to date. On one side a perfect black sand beach and on the other, the permanent cloud of smoke forming over the volcano. We had this place all to ourselves, no one around for miles. As we hiked up the black slopes of the living mountain, we could feel the power of nature and witness the passing of time.

5. The Friends We Made On The Way

We spent eight months just the two of us, living on Dali and constantly on the move, travelling from one remote place to the next. This makes every encounter very special. The Indonesians are very open and warm people and we felt welcome every place we went. The times we spent with our Dreamcatchers, sharing their daily routines and collecting their stories, brought us close together and we built true friendships that will last for life.

SAILING AS A SPORT | Part 3 of 3: François Gabart

Photo: O.Blanchet

Photo: O.Blanchet

…Continued from here

François Gabart did it again. He crossed the finish line of a singlehanded transatlantic sailing race in first position.

At 33 years of age he is a very young French sailor and like Mozart, Picasso or Messi, he is a true genius. Never had the world of singlehanded sailing seen such a talented sailor at such a young age.

As a kid François sailed around the Atlantic with his family for a year, that’s where he developed his passion for sailing. He won a lot of races on small boats as a youngster, while securing an engineering degree, but it’s singlehanded on big boats that François became a star at before he even reached 30 years of age: a rare thing in the world of sailing where experience is key.

Photo: Jean Marie Liot

Photo: Jean Marie Liot

In 2011, at 27, he takes part to the Transat B to B, his first transatlantic race on his monohull Macif and wins it.

In 2013, he takes part to the Vendee Globe, considered the toughest singlehanded sailing race around the world on the same boat, and wins it on his first try, after an incredible duel against Armel Le Cleach, the runner up of the previous edition.

In 2014, nobody can beat him as he crosses the Atlantic victoriously during his first Route du Rhum, still on Macif.

Photo: Stephane Mahe

Photo: Stephane Mahe

The Vendee Globe and the Route du Rhum enjoy large media coverage in France and Gabart is now a prominent figure in the world of French sports. Because of his young age, blond hair, blue eyes and incredible achievements, the media nicknamed him “Le Petit Prince”. That’s cute and it makes a good magazine cover, but what the general public often doesn’t know is that François is an extremely hard working technician. He is very much involved in every stage of the design and building of his boats. He asks a lot of questions and writes everything down. He is the combination of a scientist and an athlete with the mental strength of a warrior.

Photo: Vincent Curutchet

Photo: Vincent Curutchet

François Gabart has already won everything on his 60ft monohull. In 2013 he convinces his sponsor to build a giant: a 100ft trimaran (30m).

Vincent Curutchet

Photo: Vincent Curutchet

This completely different type of boat is a whole new ball game. Everything is bigger and requires even more physical energy. Rolling a sail in and unfurling another one out is equivalent to a hardcore one hour gym session, and has to be done up to 10 times a day. The handling of these giants also comes with a new dramatic factor: the stress level is much higher that on monohulls, as these multihulls reach hallucinating speeds of 40knots (80km/h) and can easily tip over.

Photo: Vincent Curutchet

Photo: Vincent Curutchet

But François enjoys a challenge and after another incredible duel, this time against Thomas Coville a 48-year-old expert at sailing these multihull giants, he crossed the finish line of The Transat Bakerly in first position last Wednesday. On his first try. Mind-blowing.

Photo: Y. Riou

Photo: Y. Riou

SAILING AS A SPORT |Part 1 of 3 : What is it like to race sailboats?

 

Over the years I have become a cruiser. I use my boat Dali as a home, and to travel the seas for leisure, discovering amazing coastlines, new countries and cultures. But my passion for sailing first came from racing sailboats around buoys. Sailing as a sport is a whole different world compared to cruising. It is not the most popular sport out there, although to me, sailing is the most complete sport there is. read more

Boat People

We write a lot about beautiful beaches in this blog. Too much. It is true that we keep on discovering remote islands, their gorgeous sand laid out in front of their jungle, and we keep on marveling at the different shades of yellow, green and blue the nature offers us. But I worry that for our readers it all sounds the same.

IMG_1399

The nature is only half of the experience, the other half is the people we meet along the way. The different shades of characters we run into is often richer than all the colors the scenery has to offer.

kuah 524

More specifically, I am always amazed at the variety of sailors we encounter during our travels, or “yachties” are they are called amongst the anglo-saxon sailing community. These are people who, like Iva and I, live on their boat. One often thinks of leisure yacht owners as wealthy people with a passion for varnished wood floating on water, but there is actually a whole spectrum of yachties.

They come from all over the world. The most common nationalities sailing around SE Asia are Australians, Americans, French, German and English. But we also meet sailors from Canada, South Africa, New Zealand, Brasil, Spain, Portugal, Italy, Turkey, Belgium, Argentina, Ireland, Czech Republic and Russia.

kuah 456

The largest group represented is probably the retired couples in their sixties or seventies. These are usually wealthy people who had been sailing during their holidays in their home country, and decided to circumnavigate the world once retired. They’re usually the first owners of nice boats over 40 feet long, spend quite a bit of time in marinas and hire experienced people to do the maintenance. These couples are usually very welcoming and love to have young people on board to share their stories of long ocean crossings and grandchildren. What drives them is the love for sailing, travelling and meeting other sailors. Their boats are usually white, the stainless steel is shiny and they know a mechanic in every port. Their outboards engine always start on the first pull of the rope.

kuah 329

On the other side of the spectrum you have the budget sailors. There is no age rule for this group, you meet relatively young sailors – I say relatively young as I am considered an infant in the sailing world at 34 years of age – as well as people in the seventies. They usually don’t have much money, spent the little they had to buy their boat and use the little they make to maintain it. They know how to fix everything on their floating house, and make a living fixing other people’s boats (that often belong the category above). Their hulls are usually colorful, and a lot of innovative DIY projects can be spotted on board, that saves them buying the expensive part from the expensive dealer. They are always looking for a new job; often leave their boat on anchor in a protected bay, go work in their home country for a few months and save enough money to last them until they run out again. What drives them is their love for self-suffiency. They love to live on the margins of society.

kuah 344

Amongst this category you often meet the singlehanded sailors. They live and sail alone on their boat. They have spent so much time alone that they somewhat live in a parallel universe, where they are their own god and master. They love to meet people and chat. For hours on end.  They mix very well with the local communities, always making friends. It always seems they need to fill the void of people on their boat. And then they sail away, alone again.

kuah 407

Some of these singlehanders  are quite eccentric characters, that could be categorized as sea bums. Their boats are tiny and messy. You wonder how they are still afloat, yet they have sailed across many oceans on them. They have long salty beards and walk barefeet. They usually don’t mind spending these long lonesome crossings alone at sea, removed from a society that they have trouble adjusting to. Their outboards never start on the first pull of the rope.

kuah 353

kuah 420

And then there are the families. A lot of couples actually raise their children on board their boat from the youngest age. I’ve met families with up to four children on board! The children are always home-schooled. In families with a single child, he or she is usually extremely mature since they are only confronted to adults. What they gain in maturity they usually lack in social skills, as they are rarely confronted to children their age. These families on boats therefore often stick together so that their children can socialize. They usually have large boats, often catamarans with enough space for the children run around, and a steady income insured before they left everything to go sailing. Their boats are crowded with food, clothes, toys, homework notebooks and game boys.

kuah 390

Another category of sailors you meet a lot are the captains and crews. They don’t own their boat but sail rich people’s boats around the world. Millionaires who only take a few weeks off every year to go sailing on their yacht, and have professionals take them to the next destination they would like to sail in the meantime. These sailors know a lot about boats, as much as the owners are clueless. They sail the boat in a different way than the people who own their boat. They are responsible for it, yet don’t necessarily have this astonishing bond that the owner-captain has with his ship.  They always seem freer and less worried. The boats they sail are always astonishing in size, maintenance level and sometimes in beauty.

kuah 504

Obviously not all yachties fit perfectly in one of these categories. Some of them belong to none, some, to a few. Iva and I often wonder which type we are going to end up as…

kuah 336

What unites all these different sailors is their passion for the sea, the sailing, the discovery of new countries and cultures. Despite their different backgrounds they are all in search for freedom, a special kind of freedom you can only find on the water. All of them also love that on the sea, you are your own master, no uninvited guest will come on board your boat. If you want peace, you just sail to the next deserted anchorage.

kuah 449

What is interesting to note is that this yachtie community basically reproduces the models of society as we know it on land. There are the rich and the poor. The loners and the large families. The generous and the stingy. The open minded ones and the ones full of prejudice. The nice ones and the mean ones. The anal ones who meticulously take care of their boats everyday and the ones that seem to live in a dump. The sociable ones and the hermits. They’re just humans, but on the sea. The one big difference with the humans on land is whatever their background, whatever the relationship they have with each other, they will always, ALWAYS help out another boat in need. They will give each other a hand in the middle of the night if they see a boat dragging your onto the reef. They will tow each other through bad weather if the engine fails. They will combine their skills to repair a sinking ship. When it comes down to helping each other out, this community reproduces the true nature of sailors: they will never let another sailor down.

Phil

kuah 460

Fear and Failure

IMG_8981

Back in the water…The boat is finally moving again, gently cradling us with the soothing motion of the tranquil waters of Phang Nga Bay.

A month earlier, life on a boatyard.

IMG_8170

It feels so good to be back on Dali and getting the boat ready for the coming year of sailing…but it feels so strange to live “on the hard”.

Dali is out of the water, sitting on land. We need to climb a ladder three meters above ground to get to the boat. I miss the motion of the boat. After months spent on Dali, we’re used to the gentle movement of the swell. But on the hard, the boat feels so unnaturally still.

IMG_8798

We chose this small new boatyard because it is cheap, calm and relatively cool. Whatever the monsoon, NE or SW, we usually get a fresh cooling wind that limits the liters of sweat that drench us while working in the tropics.

IMG_8739

It is difficult to explain how hard it has been to tackle the technical difficulties I have been facing since I decided to leave my comfortable and predictable job to live on a boat. When I acquired Dali, I knew how to sail and navigate, but when it came to mechanics, electrical systems, composite materials, paints, woodwork, plumbing, painting, sanding, gluing, isolating, screwing, drilling, polishing and so many more areas of expertise, I had no idea. It was scary to know that I would have to develop these skills quickly to be able to fix my boat on my own, in order to attain self sufficiency in deserted places and to try to limit the repair budget to a minimum.

I had a little insight from my years of sailing to the problems encountered on boats, and some theories about how to fix them. I had helped a lot of friends to do repairs on their boat, watched them use certain materials and tools. But clearly, the only way to improve my skills was to face the repair alone, with a lot of advice to pick from, but with my own hands and tools to operate.

securing the rudder

Securing the Rudder

Accomplishing a task for the first time on your own, with little or no guidance always involves a lot of stress.

I’ll try to illustrate this. Let’s say, you lightly kissed a rock with the bottom of the keel a few months back. Now on the hard, it’s fixing time. You must sand the area until you accomplish a smooth surface of fiberglass. That means you must know how to use a sanding machine, or just go for it. Then you need to prepare a mix of epoxy resin (two part – a resin and a hardener) and microballoon (micro sized glass bubbles used as a thickener) to fill all imperfection and, once sanded, prepare a smooth area to apply the fiberglass. This is no easy task for a beginner. Measurements must be taken, estimations are also a key. Doing this for the first time is obviously an unnatural feeling. It’s not easy to just go for it with no experience and technical learnings.

bottom of the keel sanded and ready for filler and fiberglass

Bottom of the keel sanded and ready for filler and fiberglass

preparing the epoxy/microballoon mix

Preparing the epoxy/microballoon mix

time to just "go for it"

Time to just “go for it”

Then the epoxy resin is applied, the fiberglass cut to dimension pressed against it and absorbed in the resin. After it has dried for a while but is still sticky, epoxy/microballoon filler must be applied again, then sanded. Finally, another layer of resin and the primer paint are applied on top when the resin is still sticky. The theory seems simple, especially after you’ve seen someone do it in front of you, but until you put your hands at use, smeared with the products that you manipulate for the first time, the whole thing just seems extremely complicated to achieve.

Chopped Strand Fiberglass Mat

Chopped Strand Fiberglass Mat

The same feeling came upon me when I had to repair my diesel engine for the first time, only using phones and books. Or the outboard engine, that I keep fixing and discovering parts I haven’t dismantled and cleaned yet, or the engine shaft that I have to take apart on my own for the first time the other day. It often brings me back to the first business trip I did in South Korea in 2001. I was an intern in small French multimedia start-up in Hong Kong and replaced my trusting boss on a trip to Seoul. I had to meet with executives of the top Korean web businesses of the time to try to establish partnerships. It was organized in conjunction with the French Embassy and one of their translators was guiding me around the high-rise buildings of Seoul for five days. I was twenty-one years old, and terrified. I was wondering what I was doing there, what the justification for my presence on this trip was, since I had no prior experience. Everything seemed complicated and unnatural. I was putting a lot of pressure on myself, afraid of failure. But I forced myself to try.

As a young inexperienced businessman in Asia

As a young inexperienced businessman in Asia

Over the years I realized that there is absolutely no reason to be afraid of failure. It is such a natural feeling that keeps us from trying new things. The boat has been a good friend and let me experiment with the feeling. Today, I still stress out when something breaks for the first time. The other day a water pump was leaking and I had to fix it. It took three tries to dismantle it, clean it and put it back together to make it work. The frustration, the first time is annoying. The second time it is almost unbearable. But I have accepted that I might have to try it a third time, and if it doesn’t work, bring it to somebody and pay him to repair it. I’ve noticed with great surprise, that usually, the third time, it works.

Luckily I have a very good consultant/worker

Luckily I have a very good consultant/worker

Another important component of the fear of failure is the importance we put in what other people may think. What will they think of us if we can’t even succeed in a small task that is so easy for them to achieve? What will my friend, who’s worked on boats for 20 years, think of me if I live on a boat and can’t even fix a little water pump? What will my boss think of me if I fail in a task that he seems to accomplish with his eyes closed? We are often paralyzed by other people staring at us. I realized over the years that first of all: who cares? We are all the same human beings with the same fears, so why be ashamed? Second of all, I am a lot more impressed by people who try something and fail, then by people who stick to what they know best, and do it over and over again.

Rope Art

Rope Art

Since I left my comfortable job in Kuala Lumpur, I have tried my best to apply this philosophy to my everyday life. I have been trying a lot of new things without any knowledge: the refit of the boat; the filming and editing of my first documentary;  I even participated to a reality TV Show based on interior design! In all these experiences, I had to teach myself how to use the tools and techniques at hand. Every time it felt like I was in front of a brick wall. I didn’t know how to start. I was afraid to start because I was worried I wouldn’t succeed. But I powered through my fears, and forced myself to do it.

Rope Art II

Rope Art II

Every task I tackle takes me a lot more time than it would have taken any experienced professional. The first result isn’t anywhere as good, and very far from my expectations. But I am building the necessary confidence to try again, and finally achieve a result that almost satisfies me. There is still so much more to learn. Every time I will have to achieve something new, the same feeling of fear will come back. But I will embrace it and power through. Force myself. Better try and fail than stand still…

Phil

There is no better feeling than being back in the water

There is no better feeling than being back in the water

Back Under the Palm Trees

We are finally back in Phuket. It feels so good to be sleeping in my favorite bed again, inside Dali’s hull. I feel like I have abandoned my boat for too long. Over the years, I’ve developed a very close relationship with my boat, almost as if it were a human being. Sometimes it is happy, in good shape, singing in the waves. Sometimes it is sad, in much need of repairs. As I found Dali sitting on the hard, out of the water, in the boatyard we had left him back in may, I couldn’t withhold a strong feeling of guilt. Boats are not meant to be out of the water. They are not meant to be abandoned for almost five months.

Reunited

Reunited

Back to Dali Oct '13 004It was all for good reasons though. We spent a long time in KL, were we edited our first documentary and participated to season 3 of The Apartment. We transformed our blog into a proper website, with a lot of new exciting features. We visited my family and friends in Europe and spent some quality time with Iva’s family in KL. We were finally able to make a long due visit to Singapore where shared our upcoming projects with our friends.

But is now time to take care of Dali again. Iva and I found the boat in its moldiest state ever. It seems it’s been raining a lot in Phuket while we were gone, and the first few days will mainly be spent cleaning the entire boat : its walls, its ceilings, empty all the drawers, open all the cabinets, clean their content, lift the floorboards, scrape underneath, empty the bilge…

Spot the Footprint

Scrubbing under the Floorboards

Scrubbing under the Floorboards

Once the boat is back in livable conditions, the proper work will start : some fiber glassing work needs to be done on the keel before we give the hull a new anti-fouling job. The front sail has suffered a rip and needs some sewing. I would like to change the mounts of the engine, possibly the injectors. There is quite a bit of plumbing work as a lot of hoses lying in inaccessible places need to be changed. The rudder needs to be adjusted.  The list is endless, as usual…

Back to Dali Oct '13 051

Back to Dali Oct '13 057

While we take care of the boat we have to continue working hard at finally generating some income with our website and documentary. We must focus on finding a sponsor, and try to get the financing for our next documentary, which we would like to shoot on the west coast of Sumatra from January to March. How we will achieve all these goals at the same time I don’t know. But Iva and I work so well as a team that I can’t help but be confident…

Phil

Phil Rice

Shit Happens

…continued from here.

Last hours of Dali in the water

Last hours of Dali in the water

Iva and I had decided to leave the boat in Phuket for a few months while we would spend sometime on land. We had to go to KL to make a few appearances related to Season 3 of The Apartment, the reality TV show we had won in 2012. We also wanted to edit a documentary about our trip to the Andamans and switch our blog to a self-hosted website with improvements to come. It seemed easier to do it on land, with unlimited access to power and a fast Internet connection. This was also an opportunity to spend some time promoting our website, in various publications, radio and TV shows. Then, in July we were going to head for Europe to celebrate my grandfather’s ninetieth birthday and visit my family and our friends for over a month. Dali had been afloat for a year and a half. These were all good reasons to lift the boat out of the water and give it a proper refit on our way back.

Sunset drinks at our favourite Reggae Bar on Bang Tao beach

Sunset drinks with our friend Guy, visiting from Doha, and the owner of our favourite Reggae Bar on Bang Tao beach

We were lucky enough to discover a new boatyard that just opened in the north of Phuket. There, we would be able to leave the boat out of the water for four to five months at a reasonable price.

DSC00551

Rainbow before the clouds set in...

Rainbow before the clouds set in…

This boatyard lies in the muddy passage at the northeast of Phuket. To enter, there is only a very small channel in between the mangrove trees. With Dali’s 1.85m draft, it is only possible to go through at very high tide, during three or four days, twice a month. We have no choice but to enter on the first of these days, since we have an obligation to be in KL the next day, with our flights already booked. The management of the boatyard tells me to enter at 10 am, when the tide is highest. Iva, Guy and I standby in front of the tiny channel, waiting for instructions to come in. But there is another boat before us. I call at 9:30, they tell me to wait. I call at 10:00, they tell me to keep on waiting. The tide’s going down, I tell them. It’s going to be fine, they answer. Finally at 10:40 the bow of the boat passes through two sad little sticks signaling the entrance. Pretty quickly we get stuck in the mud. I call for help, they take ages to come. The tide is still going down at an accelerating rate. A tiny dinghy with an 8hp engine comes and helps us push and pull, while I rev my engine to the max, nothing happens. A passing dinghy, this one with a 25hp engine starts pushing on the other side.

Finally we free ourselves from the mud. But as we exit and turn around we get stuck again. This time it’s even worse. My good friend Kosta, owner of Sheidegg and working on a powerboat nearby, comes with a large dinghy and a powerful engine. We try everything: tying a rope from the top of the mast to Kosta’s dinghy 100m away, to tilt Dali on it’s side and lift the keel over the mud, with Guy climbing to the tip of the boom to give the boat an even bigger angle. We push and we pull but there’s nothing to do. Dali is stuck in the mud for good. We’re not going to make it into the boatyard on that day.

Tide still receding..

Tide still receding..

Dali on dry sand.. and Guy trying to dig a way out!

Dali on dry sand.. and Guy keeping busy with a bucket…

Dali will have to spend the afternoon lying on it’s side, an usual sight that brings tears to Iva’s eyes, while Guy is trying to dig an exit way through the mud for the keel once the water will come back up. I’m not at my best, but have confidence in the strength of my 25mm. fiberglass hull. We’re just going to have to spend a very tilted afternoon. It feels strange to walk through the boat lying at a steady 45 degree angle. While gathering supplies from the inside, I fall many times, unsure of where to put my weight or hold on to. This is not how I wanted to spend my last afternoon on Dali.

The tide comes back with the dusk and slowly Dali starts floating again. What a sweet feeling to feel the boat moving with the tiny swell. We have dinner and wait for the tide to be highest, start the engine and anchor further away.

The next morning, again, is full of surprises. This time we are the first boat to come in, at high tide. This boatyard is a low budget one and there is no crane. It is a cradle that is placed under the boat and pulled out by a tractor. There is a little puddle of water where I have to wait while the staff places the cradle under the boat. As I enter, not a single staff member is there to catch my ropes!

I scream for help and even anchor in the small space trying to prevent the current from pushing Dali onto the rocks. Luckily Guy is on board with his two precious extra hands. We are able to guide the staff into catching our lines just in time before a crash, and to tie us up in a proper way. After a lot of screaming and sweating Dali is finally secure. It is now time to pull the cradle out of the water with the tractor.

Iva has never witnessed such an operation and loves the boat so much that she worries about it as if it were a child. But soon enough the worst is behind us, and Dali is finally resting safely on its stilts.

The next few hours are a blur. Guy, Iva and I go into frenzy mode so that we are able to prepare the boat for four months of loneliness in time to catch our flight. Somehow we manage.

Guy, you are obviously welcomed back on Dali anytime!

Phil

Abridgment

Photo by Julien Estiot

Let’s go back in time a few months. May 2013. Phuket. After an overwhelming trip to the Andaman Islands, Iva and I are back in Thailand. We enjoy our first real shower. After cooking three times a day for two months we take a rest, sit down and order our favorite Thai dishes. We don’t forget the juicy burgers and ice-cold beers either. Tourists are everywhere, the beaches aren’t empty anymore, but tourism has its perks. My brother visits again, so do Iva’s parents. It feels nice to be surrounded by family and familiar grounds.

Beers on the Beach

Julien getting a Thai haircut

Julien getting a Thai haircut

Photo by Julien Estiot

Afternoon Boat Activities

First bottle of wine in two months!
Photo by Julien Estiot

We enjoy the company of our friends. Jose and Ana, owners of Zarco, who I met in Fiji nine years ago. Dutch Chris, iconic figure of Ao Yon Bay and owner of the Andaman Sea Club, a catamaran charter company. The amazing Maillard family on Tsarapenhoat : Arnaud and Katia left their steady life in Reunion Island to buy a 38 foot catamaran in Phuket. On board they home-school their four children. We sometimes struggle to cook for two. They do it every day for six.

More friends fly in from Kuala Lumpur. Andy and Steph, who are responsible for introducing me to Iva, finally make it onto Dali. Jess and Rich join the party and make it another memorable outing to Patong. What a contrast to the past two months spent in a bubble with Iva on Dali!

Enjoying a swim in fresh water at our friends’ hotel!
Photo by Jessica Lewis

The Andaman trip has been tiring. We raised anchor almost everyday. I need my lazy days back. So we sail up to Phang Nga Bay, and realize that we haven’t explored it thoroughly. We have gone so far to blow our minds with unexpected images, but Thailand is just as beautiful.

The limestone rocks of Phang Nga Bay. The caves. The secret enclosed bodies of water that we discover everyday. The Thai call them “hongs”, which means “rooms”. OK, we’re not exactly at the end of the world anymore. In most places, hordes of kayaking tourists invade the grounds from ten in the morning to four in the afternoon. That’s my lazy time. The rest is our oars caressing the calm waters of the bay with no one in sight.

Before and After the tourists

Before and After the tourists

Can you spot Iva ?

Can you spot Iva ?

Seashell Beach

Seashell Shower

Seashell Shower

Sunset on Limestone Cliffs

Sunset on Limestone Cliffs

My good friend Guy visits from Doha. He was one of the first guests on the boat back in 2009, shortly after I purchased it. At the time I didn’t have the confidence I have now as the captain of Dali. I thought this time everything would go smoothly, especially thanks to Guy’s sailing experience. I had to think again…

…to be continued

Phil