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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…

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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

Introducing Love Making Waves

Love Making Waves

Phil and I often write about the endless and sometimes difficult learning experiences that we face daily on the boat. Living at sea involves problems of all kinds and in their resolution you are able to learn a great deal about yourself, the person next to you and the boat. However, the lessons don’t stop there. Living on a sailboat for the past two years has taught me a lot about relationships and especially about the relationships people have with nature.

One of the things I enjoy most about this cruising lifestyle is the freedom of exploration and the beauty of living in touch with one’s surroundings. As Phil wrote before, sailors and their vessels can come in all shapes and sizes, but they are all united by a common passion. Meeting sailors from across the world and getting a peek into their lives and floating homes has been one of my favourite things about cruising.

It is also from this exchange with others that I have learned the most. It’s impossible to count how many times we have relied on others’ expertise to help us solve problems. Whether it’s a home remedy for a bad insect bite or a DIY repair for engine trouble, we are always thankful to be able to count on our friends’ experiences if we can’t draw from our own.

It is in this vein that I introduce my new blog. These past few years I have been gathering experiences, collecting stories and most importantly meeting amazing women across the world that live, love and breathe nature.

Love Making Waves aims to bring women closer to each other, and closer to nature. It is a space for women and nature living in harmony. A platform from which to share those little sparks of wisdom that you can finally pass on after learning them the hard way. The girly tips & tricks to roughing it. To share stories that will one day encourage women everywhere to pursue their desire to travel and to venture into nature unafraid.

More to come!

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.

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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

Reflections

It was not easy to leave this corner of India that had us so eagerly engrossed. Returning from Cinque Island we fought against our visa deadline and tried hastily to squeeze a few more anchorages before returning to Phuket. We wanted to run on more beaches, see locals in sarees dancing on the sand and taste new native flavours. Chidiya-tapu and Port Blair bid us a colorful and warm farewell.

There are a lot of finer moments and small details of our trip to the Andaman Islands that have escaped our writing thus far. We have spoken of the incredibly beautiful, deserted beaches, the locals friendly and exotic and the fish plentiful and multi-colored… Yet as we began to conclude our tour of the islands I couldn’t help but feel that some of the more subtle yet significant discoveries had happened between our couple and within our selves.

As Phil set the sails and adjusted the wind-vane, the sun fell and we prepared for our night shifts. Unlike the first crossing, this time we had the moon to guide us during the early parts of the night. While Phil slept and the engine hummed loudly, I had the crescent moon as my companion and more than once danced on the deck looking at its bright yellow light. I danced, and stretched to stay awake during the hours of my vigil in the vast darkness. I admired the stars until my eyes lost focus and I began to see them move and blend and vibrate in the sky. Perhaps they are not called bewitching hours for nothing for it was during these moments that I found myself most exposed, more susceptible to the fantasies that sprung from the atramental night.

Took advantage of the lack of wind for a quick dip

During our crossing Phil and I would at times hardly see each other as the days passed. It was important that whenever someone was awake, the other was resting and regaining the energy necessary to take the next shift. I had more time to give in to my thoughts, no one to edit them for me and was left to indulge myself in my emotions, which fell and rose with the waves. At times I was exhilarated, in a trance with the music I blared from my headphones to help keep me awake. Other moments I was convinced we were on the verge of being in danger, that a strong gust of wind could at any moment catapult us into a disastrous squall… My heart beating loudly and my senses at once heightened from the nerves but dulled from the lack of sleep. I would stare at the soft orange light of our compass for hours on end, my eyes fixed on a range of three degrees until all else disappeared around me. Then dawn would come and with it an immense feeling of relief, followed by the overwhelming bliss of visits from dolphins and pilot whales.

Dolphins

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Pilot Whales

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Pilot Whale

Enjoying the few hours a day that I saw Phil, both of us awake and excited, me in awe of his growing, brilliant abilities as Captain. And sometimes sheer frustration, lack of wind and lack of movement for hours on end… Being pushed in the wrong direction by a current we can’t fight in heat we can’t escape. Night again: my eyes fixed on the sails and the compass when something bright flashes and in fear of it being lightning I look up immediately and instead see a meteor blazing across the stars.

Midnight as we see the first bright lights of fishermen appear on the horizon and we know we are closer to Thailand. Twilight as we approach Phuket and the silhouettes of the wooden boats with sleepy fishermen greet us and lure us closer to shore. Dawn breaks over Promthep Cape and lights up the Big Buddha who gives us the official welcome. Yindī t̂xnrạb

Iva

Climax

I have been dreaming of sailing my own boat around the seas since I was a teenager.

The open seas. Deserted islands. Self-sufficiency. Choosing where to go, deciding when and with whom. Living close to nature, following its rhythms – the movement of the water, the light that hits the beach – the sudden change in weather, the power of the swell. Finding time for myself, a good book, hours of contemplating the variations of color in the sky. And most importantly, good company.

Well, I dreamed a lot over the years. And then slowly things started taking shape. Years of work that made the possibilities seem more real. The purchase of a boat that physically embodied that dream. Months of hard work on that boat to get it ready to carry me to the place I had hoped for. And finally the encounter with Iva. The perfect partner to give me the last piece of the puzzle : a person to share your hopes with.

And then you dream of the perfect spot. A place that exceeds your dreams with its perfection, its simplicity, and the serenity it rewards you with.

Iva, Dali and I found that spot in North Cinque Island.

As we entered the west bay of the Island it was still early morning, the rising sun still blurring our view of land with its glare and the water with its reflection. We could barely see the reef and anchored in 12meters of water in the middle of the bay. As the sun rose in the sky, its light unveiled a perfect spectacle : a long stretch of sand separating the island in two lush hills outlined by giant trees carried by sinuous trunks. The water was splendid, the bay playing with different shades of blue and green, from the coral heads scattered across it to the perfect pool on white sand lining the beach.

We reached land with our dinghy, walked to the top of the stretch of sand only to fall on the ground, in awe of the other side : another perfect bay, another perfect beach. The same one, really, a long white line of fine sand holding two jewels on each side. We looked at each other and smiled.

We spent five days in North Cinque Island, all too quickly carried away by time. Days of exploring the forest, or lying on the sand. Playing with the water, snorkeling through the reefs. Spear fishing in the rocks, taking our time to elaborate gourmet meals.

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On our first sunset, we climbed an old dead tree lying on its side. The island rewarded us with yet another blissful surprise : a herd of deer feeding on the grass, meters away.

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After three days in The Perfect Bay we moved to the South side of the island.

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There, the passage between North and South Cinque, covered in reef, answered our wildest snorkeling and fishing hopes : a vibrant underwater life. Thousands of  small reef fish, huge schools of parrots and surgeons, crayfish, hump head wrasses and parrots, giant groupers and trevallies, sharks, and on the last day, our biggest reward : a manta ray aknowleged us with its gracious swimming style, and glided away.

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Fishing Action

Fishing Action

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Delicious Sweetlips

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Iva’s Favourite Coral Reef Fish : The Oriental Sweetlips !

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Attaining your dreams is something you have to deal with. Trying to reach a goal brings you forward and helps you deal with the common interrogation of existence. Why am I here ? What should I do ? What will I work towards when I wake up tomorrow morning ? For years, I was aiming towards the idea of a woman, a boat and a perfect place. All these images in my head finally took a clear shape and gave me more than I had ever expected. But what’s next ? What do I do now ? Thankfully I’m not alone anymore to figure that out…

Phil

Twenty-Six

My birthday this year was spent in a bubble. Made from the froth of the sea, lingering gently on a small strip of beach, shaded by green and red leaves. Far from phone calls and Facebook messages I spent the day basking in the warm embrace of Philippe, Dali and the Andaman Sea.

By this point in our trip our eyes and minds had begun to adjust slightly to our altered and privileged reality. So much so that we did not feel too intimidated to handpick a secluded corner of Chakra Jurum and claim it ours for the night.

Phil anchored the boat with fresh confidence and ease acquired from our recent crossing. Dali had never sat so close to the shore, and looked magnificently smug about ten meters from the reef, perched perfectly on a white sandy bottom surrounded by turquoise and azure.

Laying on the sand and looking at the sky while Phil fished for our dinner, I found it hard to reflect on my twenty six years of life. I felt too far removed to consider it all as a sequence of events or coherent ensemble. I saw Phil and I floating in a bubble, detached from our previous experiences, suspended temporarily in our fragile and pristine paradise. Even when two catamarans entered the channel to remind us of the outside world, our eyes quietly followed the movement of their sails until the intrusion was chased away and we were alone again.

In the early afternoon we made a fire on the beach and prepared for dinner. Our picnic was complete with white wine and a freshly baked cake. We toasted to us, to the boat, to the halfway mark in our journey and to our family and friends who were in our thoughts as night fell and the stars united everything under their guard.

Iva

Above and Below

It was hard to leave Havelock Island. But we were already one week into our trip, and the Indian authorities only deliver a one-month visa for the Andaman Islands. The frustration of not being able to spend more time in paradise slowly started creeping in. We had to plan our trip accordingly. It wasn’t easy to find the balance between our yearning to visit as many islands as we could and the need to spend more than a couple of nights in the places we loved the most. With only three weeks left we made our way to our next stop, Inglis Island.

As perfect as Havelock Island had been, Inglis rewarded us with a striking convex stretch of white sand contrasting with the deep turquoise of the water. And we were alone. The island was ours. The excitement grew as we anchored in ten meters on sand. As soon as we dropped the anchor, we were greeted by a group of mouse deer feeding on the beach. The next surprise came from the sky as a very intense experience: a Coast Guard helicopter circling 30 meters above us! We made contact though the VHF radio, identified ourselves, confirmed we had properly checked in in Port Blair and were bid farewell with a lovely “Have fun…and be safe!”

We spent the next couple of days exploring the island: the beach, the forest and the gorgeous sand cliffs rising above the water. Their different shades of yellow would constantly change with the light and amaze us throughout the day; we were grateful to sit in the shade of its caves, protected enough from the harassing heat to contemplate the waves breaking on the outer reefs.

Land Art

Land Art

Mouse Deer Skull

Turtle Skull

Again, it was hard to leave, but we had to stay on schedule. We motored north against a strong breeze and a choppy sea to reach North Button Island.

We both expected a lot from this tiny island as we had read that it was vibrant with sea life. Iva wanted to see manta rays. I was pretty excited about the fishing.

North Button Island from the Water

North Button Island from the Water

Iva hunts for photos, while Phil hunts for food! Here, a beautiful but very poisonous Lion Fish

Iva hunts for photos, while Phil hunts for food! Here, a beautiful but very poisonous Lion Fish

I started spearfishing back in 2003 when I was crewing around the South Pacific on sailboats for eight months. It quickly became an addiction at the time, although I barely caught any fish the first few months. Spearfishing is a difficult sport. You usually have to dive down in at least five meters of water to catch anything. 10 to 20 meters if you want to spear the big ones. The fish can breathe underwater, you can’t. The fish is really fast and reacts instantly to any movement or noise nearby. As free divers we are slow and not very agile underwater, especially if we want to stay long and keep enough air in our lungs to actually catch something. The slightest movement of a fin or the click of the gun releasing the spear will scare the fish away instantly.

Considering fish is our only source of fresh protein on the boat, it’s an exciting challenge.

I had done a bit of spearfishing in Thailand in the past year, but the Thai seas are so overfished that it is very hard to catch anything more than a small parrotfish or snapper. I was finally confronted to a proper fishing ground, as commercial fishing is not allowed in the Andaman Islands.

On the first day I caught a small grouper that was delicious but left us craving for more. On the second day we decided to take the dinghy further past the west point of the island. There was a lot of fish out there, but I wanted to challenge my fishing skills by catching something big, fast and delicious. A big grouper – always hiding in the rocks and very hard to catch – or a jackfish – one of the fastest hunters out there. As I jumped in the water at our second stop, I couldn’t believe my eyes : a school of small tuna was swimming right in front of me ! Tuna are rarely seen that close to the reef in shallow waters. I had caught some in the Pacific trailing a line of the back of the boat in open sea, but never actually seen one underwater. I tried to control the adrenaline pumping through my veins, gave a very smooth stroke of a fin towards the school and aimed at the closest fish with strong determination but little hope. The whole school instantly swam away from me but I shot anyway and rejoiced : I had caught one ! It was the strongest fish I’ve ever had to bring back onto the dinghy. This tuna was fighting hard but I somehow managed to pull it up, throw the spear into the dinghy and quickly finish it’s days of swimming the Andaman Sea.

That catch ended our fishing for the day. A two/three kilo tuna is definitely enough for the two of us ! I cut two beautiful filets out of our little friend that more than filled us up. We first enjoyed an appetizer of sashimi, then had one filet for lunch and one for dinner, accompanied by delicious vegetables, of which our favorite will remain the lovely little Andaman aubergines !

North Button Island also enabled us to do a bit of socializing with two French boats anchored next to us : Sea Lance and Nez Rouge. It felt great sharing stories around coffee in the morning and beers in the afternoon with people who have been sailing for years around the world… But we had to leave, to make it in time to an anchorage we had identified with Iva on the way up as a perfect place to celebrate her 26th birthday… more on that in the next episode !

Phil

Havelock
Dali and the Mangroves

Dali and the Mangroves

It was difficult to know where to begin… The Andamans are a group of Indian Ocean archipelagic islands in the Bay of Bengal. There are 572 islands strewn vertically over an area of 8,249 square kilometers, which for us meant that we had the luxury of being able to sail only a few hours before finding ourselves at a new destination.

We decided to start our discoveries by visiting some islands north of Port Blair. We sailed just 30 nautical miles from Port Blair and anchored on the South West tip of Havelock Island. Belonging to Ritchie’s Archipelago, Havelock is the largest of this island chain and also one of the few Andaman Islands that are inhabited.

However, we did not see anyone at our first anchorage. The day was spent marveling at the water, framed by lush greenery punctuated with red. We wasted no time in adopting what were to become our island-life rituals. Phil plunged into the turquoise depths spear gun in hand and with the fruits of his hunt we celebrated the first of many fish inspired feasts.

Dinner

Dinner

As the celebrations continued into the night, we made a bonfire on the soft sand and watched the sun disappear behind a few stray mangrove trees.

The next morning we moved north and anchored in front of the monumental Radha Nagar Beach, also known as “Beach Number 7”. To say the seven miles of sand, deep, flat and white, were impressive is a gross understatement. Looking at the sprawling beach from the boat, I felt dwarfed by its magnificence, in awe of the sheer magnitude of its collective beauty.

Clear Water

The lack of a coral reef allows for a lagoon-like crystal pool that touches the edges of the fine sand in calm waves. From the depths of the beach sprung the massive trunks of trees, accentuated by smaller varieties in all shades of possible greens. There were even small thatched lookout posts, which seemed comically perfect – as if the whole landscape was a man-made set, ready for its close-up.

We spent several days at this beach, both at the beginning and end of our Northern tour. It was by far one of our favourite anchorages.

Dali Awaiting a Squall

Dali Awaiting a Squall

Also a popular destination for Indian tourists, it was a spectacle in itself to observe women dressed in beautiful saris play in the waves. Returning one afternoon from a visit to the nearby village, we were also amused to find that an Indian family had made a homey rest stop out of our dinghy!

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From the beach we were able to hire a Mahindra jeep and visit the nearby Village No.3, or Govind Nagar Village. The ride inland was beautiful, crossing plantations dotted with brightly painted houses and white cows.

The village was equally charming, being comprised of a small stretch of shops clustered around the fresh market. Walking the short street, we found everything we needed and even made our first international call home! It was good to hear my father’s voice and though we have been separated before by much greater distances, finding an international landline in the village and the static on the other line made me feel like I was phoning home from the ends of the world.

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Waking up to its imposing scenery, walking and walking the stretches of sand and buying samosas from a very friendly man under an umbrella. The vegetarian menues were amazing and we found each dish delicious and perfectly seasoned with mild spices.

In short, it was hard to say goodbye to Havelock. The island seemed to have everything we could have hoped to find in our Indian travels. But this was just an introduction, and we were already short of days so we lifted the anchor and continued north…

Iva

Farewell Havelock...

Farewell Havelock…

Welcome to Port Blair

512px-Map_of_Nicobar_and_Andaman_Islands-enArriving in Port Blair was exhilarating. Though Phil and I have both lived in Asia for many years, this is my first introduction to India and after months between Thailand and Malaysia, it looks, smells and feels extremely dissimilar. There is something already exotic about arriving somewhere by boat. Even if that place happens to be readily accessible by other means of transport, by evading them you avoid arrival terminals, other tourists, taxi cues. Instead we were greeted by a bustling port and as we entered Chatham channel – all the while communicating with local port authorities with a VHF radio – I had the ridiculous but giddy feeling that we were discovering something new. Granted it was only new to Phil and I, but the excitement mounted.

We anchored finally in the designated area for visiting yachts and for the first time in five days the rocking, rolling, lurching, climbing, falling… stopped. Though it had taken my body some time to become accustomed to it, I had luckily never found the movement uncomfortable during our crossing and it was actually the lack thereof that resulted in an immediate headache. In my mind I pictured my brain, which had been bobbing along happily, hitting the front of my skull as the boat reached a halt.

Although I was itching to explore the first piece of the Andamans we had access to (and also curious to see how my legs would feel on firm land), we could not go to shore until the following morning. We spent the day of our arrival welcoming authorities onto the boat, which sounds anticlimactic but was actually a very comical and colourful experience.

Port Blair at Dusk

The next morning we made the one-kilometer long dinghy ride to the dock and began to visit Port Blair, the largest town and capital of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, a union territory of India.

As I have not had the chance to visit mainland India, I cannot make any comparative statements but according to Phil the South Andaman Island port is a “very chilled out version” of India. And I can see what he means. There are the beginnings of the chaotic characteristics associated with India; jaywalking cows, loud music blaring from invisible speakers, fishing boats near the roads, the intermittent car horns. But all with a laid back island-life attitude in much less densely populated space.

Driving to the heart of town you feel that you have travelled back in time. That you are on an island somewhere in the 60’s or in some warped Asian version of the Dharma Initiative. We rode a beautiful HM taxi through streets lined with white linens drying in the sun. We arrived at the Harbour Master’s office where we had to present our itinerary for approval and receive our final clearance to visit the nearby islands.

No Traffic Lights in Port Blair

No Traffic Lights in Port Blair

The building, well maintained but clearly out dated had incredible charm as we stepped into offices where windows were wide open, letting the sunlight yellow the stacks and stacks of papers that have not yet been replaced by computer hard drives. Everywhere we visited was clearly over staffed with officials taking time and pleasure in completing their duties in an orderly fashion as well as consulting their colleagues or inviting them in just for fun. Though we had read warnings about the bureaucratic procedures necessary to visit the islands, we were on the contrary surprised by the officials’ friendliness and enjoyed participating and observing their administrative culture.

Phil and our friend the Customs Official

Phil and our friend the Customs Official

We had lunch and did our grocery shopping in Aberdeen Bazaar, which consists of one main road that starts with a giant golden Ghandi monument and stretches upwards for about four blocks. These four blocks are packed with stores side by side, on top of each other, above street level, below street level and some almost on the street itself. Everything from bakeries to dental surgeons, clothing, supermarkets, electronics, chai tea stands and Internet cafes is packed in the small and bustling downtown area. We bought our fruits and vegetables from the fresh market then continued up the road to Baba Restaurant where eight four-person tables are crammed into the last shop lot on the road and we waited in line to get a seat and some delicious chicken masala, vegetable curry and tomato rice.

One of the many bakeries in Aberdeen Bazaar

One of the many bakeries in Aberdeen Bazaar

Fresh Fruit & Vegetable Market

Fresh Fruit & Vegetable Market

Buying Fruits

Schoolgirls in Uniform and Matching Braids

Schoolgirls in Uniform and Matching Braids

Blender Repair Shop

Blender Repair Shop

Back on the boat, and though thoroughly charmed with Port Blair, its colourful wooden houses perched on hills with wandering goats by the roadside, it is the beaches and the water and the islands that we came to visit so once our administrative procedures were underway, we were happy to leave and further our exploration.

Iva