Nearly a month since we'd left Bali, and we were without our third set of eyes....Graham having left from Nongsa the morning previously.
It was an exciting day, and the complex task ahead had been preying on my mind for more than a week. We'd planned a fairly lengthy run across the Singapore Strait and then up the skinny Johor Strait and into Puteri Marina, on the Malaysian side. (Singapore's marina prices are hideously expensive!)
Easy to begin with, under sunny skies, albeit with a couple of ominous thunderheads on the horizon. Very light wind, of course...we toodled along in parallel with the big ships...missed the first of the squalls which exploded somewhere off our beam, and continued on, carefully avoiding the barge traffic which goes in all directions outside of the major shipping channel.
But then, the other squall which had looked a bit threatening, looked even more threatening, and then hit us like a ton of bricks.... 
Total loss of visibility, 15 knots of wind on the nose, we turned on our nav lights and hoped that the tug and barge that we knew was crossing in front of us somewhere, was watching his AIS screen. Not that he could've manouvred around us anyway. And as if that wasn't stressful enough, WHAM! and a bolt of lightning thundered directly down into the water a hundred metres in front of us. I let go the stainless steel steering wheel in awe! Things could only get better from there, and it wasn't too long before we were back in calm water, with a gloomy grey but neutral sky for the rest of the day.
We zoomed across the Eastbound shipping lane and made our way through the dividing anchorage strip in the middle, keeping eagle eyes out for big ships starting to move. All good, and then came the Westbound lane, where we sat waiting for a gap in the traffic for 20 minutes or so before galloping across....and then we were done!
We motored through the ships' parking area at the entrance to the Johor Strait, and then proceeded up the channel, and finally into the marina at Puteri.

Culture Shock! We'd finally become accustomed to the somewhat rough edges of Indonesia, and it's undeniably third world sensibility, when we found ourselves in a marina surrounded by a modern, western-style shopping mall, complete with bars, chain restaurants, and security guards who blew their whistles if they spotted somebody standing on a wall for a selfie. The place was busy, and the bustling crowd were glued to their cellphones, engrossed in their Pokemon Go pursuits. We were like fish out of water, but were welcomed into the office and our entire "checking in" procedure to Malaysia took barely a minute or so. More culture shock!
Over the next couple of days, the marina started filling up with other cruisers, from both rallies, and we were made welcome, and felt very comfortable indeed.

Many of the boats which had come in from Indonesia virtually limped in to the marina, desperate for spare parts and TLC. We were much better off, but were pleased to be able to have a mechanic come and change our engine oil for us, and we brought a cleanup crew on board to give the outside of the boat a good clean and polish all of the stainless steel. So we had a good-lookin' cat again!
We taxied into Singapore for a few days, lapping up the luxury, and staying at a plush hotel near Orchard Road. We had a slap-up Peking Duck birthday dinner, with friends Bruce and Deb from the yacht "Matilda", visited the chandleries and yacht supply houses, shopped for stuff, ate a lot and spent a load of money just cruising about the place.

After a few days sampling the delights of Singapore, Malaysia felt relaxed and comfortable, and to think that just a few days earlier we'd been blown away with how fast and glitzy it had all seemed.
We agreed to join the "Sail Malaysia" yacht rally, which gave us all sorts of benefits on the trip north through the Straits of Malacca to Langkawi, where we'd planned on leaving the boat.
​So, it was a few more days of festivities, meetings and socialising, before we headed out once again.
​Anchorages along the way north to Port Dickson looked a bit average, so we decided on another overnighter, despite the worry of travelling along one of the world's busiest shipping lanes, and also a  notorious pirate zone. What could possibly go wrong? 

Well, nothing went wrong really. It was an interesting trip, with an ever-changing seascape of all kinds of ship traffic, and during the day we spent a fair bit of time taking evasive action with tugs, barges and fishing vessels. By the time night fell, we were into the rhythm of it all, and crept along on the edge of the northbound shipping channel. The most spectacular sight was the massive cruise ship "Costa Luminosa" which glowed luminously indeed, but I didn't snap a pic.

Throughout the night, we had a big, violent thunderstorm ahead of us for some of the time, but it must have been travelling north, too, at around the same speed as us....we didn't bump into it anyway. By midnight it had dissipated and we cruised along in bright moonlight.
All too easy, and at around 0730 we pulled into the marina at Port Dickson. We'd been advised that they weren't accepting advance bookings and that we should radio in just before entry. Which we did, but nobody answered. And we tried again, and then, the phone, but still no answer. So we just rocked in anyway, spotted an empty berth, pulled into it and tied up. Done!
Another resort-style marina with all of the comforts, and not long afterwards, the office opened, the rate was negotiated, and we were official. (We heard from others at the marina about the savage storm that'd blown through overnight...the one I'd been watching, that we luckily missed.)
We had drinks that night with Keith and Lea Pennicot, my former neighbours (and dockmaster) from Tipperary Waters Marina in Darwin, and Keith drove us into town the next day in his rental car.
Another week or so in Port Dickson, with lots of socialising and a rally day trip to Melaka, which was great fun once we'd slipped away from the tour guide and rendezvoused at the pub. 

I had actually been feeling a little ill for a few days, my first sickness on the whole trip so far, so for the next couple of weeks I didn't have much energy. But, we had to keep moving, so once again dropped the mooring lines and headed off towards Port Klang, Kuala Lumpur's seaport. We anchored overnight in the river, with strong tidal currents dragging islands of weed and plastic past us....we'd get very familiar with those in the next few weeks, too. 

Up-anchor again in the morning, and an all-day motor/sail to the island of Pangkor, and its' marina. Again, we had been told that the marina was full, and bookings weren't being accepted. But we'd no sooner radioed in, than Marina Manager James Khoo was alongside us in a launch to guide us into a berth....for free, courtesy of our rally participation. Terriffic. 
James turned on plenty of entertainment for the week, and we had lots of social activity (such as drinks and party games aboard "Wirraway") so Mary represented the team while I was a bit of a wet blanket with the strange, debilitating bug I'd picked up.
Anyway, Pangkor is a great marina, James is a great manager, and there's good hardstand facilities when work needs to be done.
I was feeling a bit better by the time we finally left Pangkor, and we anchored off Pulau Talang ("Monkey Island") on our way through to Penang. 

The "Sail Malaysia" team had asked us to anchor inside Jerijak Island when we arrived in Penang, which is what we did, along with a growing fleet of cruisers, all ready for an early start and official "sail-under-the-bridge" event the next morning. So it was up early and all off together.
There was some interesting argy-bargy on the VHF radio...firstly about a dog that needed rescuing....which was met with a "I'm not rescuing no dog, I'll get rabies" response, and then, a more compassionate response. It seems that there was a dog clinging to a floating island of weed and garbage. One of the crew from the French boat "Lazy Jack" actually jumped into the water to untangle the dog...a beautiful German shorthaired critter...from the mess that she was in, and the animal was taken aboard the Australian catamaran "Endless Summer", where she promptly curled up on the deck to sleep.
Meanwhile, there was more silliness on the radio, with an irate American, with a possibly Naval background, demanding to know why the fleet wasn't in disciplined formation at the notified speed. The fleet graciously ignored him, and while it was tempting to take the bait, we all just motored on at varying speeds, waving at each other, while he grew ever angrier. 
We all made our way through the strait, and anchored outside the Penang Marina to once again enjoy the luxuries of a big Western shopping mall, with it's bars and restaurants.
For a predominantly tropical, Muslim nation, Malaysia does a good job of making the place look like Christmas....even if it's just to sell more stuff in the shopping malls. 
And as Christmas WAS creeping up, we had a big buffet, pre-Christmas Sunday roast with some of the usual suspects, at the grandest pub in town, the Eastern and Oriental Hotel, a beautifully maintained colonial edifice.

We had some good days in Penang, wandering around not only the fancy malls, but also the tiny, bustling streets of Georgetown, the funky old-city tourist zone. We had a tourist-bus excursion courtesy of the Rally, visiting Pen Marine's shipyards for an indoctrination, had a tour of a fish-processing plant, ate at the street food markets, and generally had a good time. But we weren't long at anchor off Straits Quay Marina before the weather turned nasty and the anchorage deteriorated into a washing machine ride. Off back to Jerijak Island again....

We were tempted to spend more time in Penang, but the weather was crap and we were getting toey to get on to Langkawi, our planned last stop on this journey, and the boat's new home for the forseeable future. It was an awkward departure from Penang, with a short, sharp chop on the nose and we were dodging the daily Casino cruise ships as we buffeted our way through the strait. By the time we'd cleared the island of Penang, it was much easier and nice to be sailing again.
We dropped the anchor for the night at little Bunting Island and I actually had a swim off the back of the boat, which, as it turned out, was my last ocean swim of the trip....we'd heard that as we were heading north, box jellyfish were a genuine threat, and besides, it was murky water anyway. 

And so it was off to Langkawi. The last day's sail was a bit grey and blustery , but the wind dropped out and the sun poked through as we passed some of Langkawi's outlying islands, where we could see a few yachts tucked in and at anchor amongst the spectacular cliffs. But we kept on, and cruised into a berth at the marina, which is completely hidden from view from the sea.
Out came the fold-up bike which we'd carried on the deck all the way from Australia...($90 special at Aldi!) and we started settling into the boat's new home. 
The Rebak Island Marina is a part of a 5-star Taj Hotel resort, so all of the facilities are at our disposal. It's a free, ten minute ferry ride to the main island of Langkawi, and there's space for up to 190 yachts, mostly foreign-registered, and many with their crews living aboard.
I have heard it described as "The World's Best Retirement Village" which is fair comment.
Social life at the marina is healthy, with live music jam sessions a couple of times a week, a swim up bar in the pool, Happy Hour cocktails and the Hard Dock cafe which is reserved just for boaties....hotel guests not allowed.

It was easy to settle in.... We rented an air conditioner to make life a bit more comfortable, started to learn where things were in Langkawi, like the supermarkets and hardware stores and did a few runs into the capital, Kuah, finding our way around in general. And socialised a lot....

Number One daughter, India (well, we only have one daughter...) flew in for a visit, and on her first day off the plane we made the journey up the mountains to the spectacular Skycab and Skybridge. Which was wonderful, until she sprained her ankle on the hike to the mid-station, and was just a bit embarrassed when the Ranger offered to have her stretchered out.
She opted to hobble....for most of the week unfortunately.

A couple of days' sailing to the outer islands was next on the agenda, along with a bit more socialising on the beach while we were at anchor, and then a quick flight back down to Penang....and then came Christmas.
​It was a good little break to be in Penang without having the boat and an untenable anchorage to worry about. And it's only a 35 minute flight.

We stayed in a little boutique hotel, the "D'Nice", in the heart of Georgetown and did some more wandering about, more eating, and even caught the bus across the island to Batu Ferringhi, the once hip and groovy beach which seems to have been forgotten. (Well, it was hip and groovy when I first visited Penang in 1974....)

Christmas Lunch was a spectacular buffet feed in the Hotel restaurant along with dozens of other yacht crews, and while it wasnt the same as Christmas at home, it was still pretty good. The hotel staff, predominantly Muslim or Hindu, went to huge lengths to make us all feel comfortable and welcome....there was even a Brown Santa! 
Once Christmas was done, India was bundled off back to the airport and we readied for the next job...hauling big "El Gato" out of the water and up onto the hard stand for storage. Which was easier than anticipated...the local staff was brilliant. Slick, professional and sensitive to our needs. In no time, the hull had been pressure washed, and the boat was placed solidly on it's stands, and we started the storage/mothballing process in earnest.

Which brings us to the end of the story for the moment....it's been quite a trip, and the sense of satisfaction that we've both felt in making our way all the way to northern Malaysia is real. The boat's been wonderful, the company of other cruisers wonderful, and the help from locals along the way has made it all too easy.
So, what's next? A quick little round-Australia trek by caravan, for starters, before coming back to Malaysia later in the year....I guess I'll have to keep the blog going.....

Finally equipped with bright new visa stamps in our passports, and with extra crew member Graham Symonds aboard, it was time to weigh anchor and wave Bye Bye to Bali. We'd spent more than enough time lounging by the pool at the nearby hotel, and most of the fleet had already headed off, either to Borneo or just westwards, as we were planning to do ourselves.
The weather had started to turn on us....frequent electrical storms and winds from the north, pushing short, uncomfortable swell into the anchorage, making it difficult to land the dinghy on the normally calm beach, and just as difficult to climb on or off when docking to "El Gato".

We gave Graham a night to settle in, and then, on the 3rd. October finally headed off in the early morning in a light NW breeze and annoying, short period swell, bound for Bawean. As the day progressed the water calmed and we motored along, into the Java Sea past Madura and the island of Sapudi in the late afternoon. A northerly breeze, no stronger than 6 knots set the tone for the next month or so....and Graham thought he was coming on a sailing trip!
Highlights of the trip were a whale sighting, and lots of fishing boats and "Fish Attracting Devices" which crop up everywhere. But more on them later.
It was a lengthy overnighter, and at a little after 2.00 P.M. we finally dropped anchor in the picturesque northern anchorage on Pulau Bawean. 

Graham and I dinghied into the village, which was spoiled a little by a rude mob of kids with their hands out for money or anything else they could get. It took awhile to shake them off, but our faith in good-natured Indonesians was restored when I started negotiating with a vendor for a bunch of bananas. Once the deal was done we started to stroll away, when we were called back and had another whole bunch of bananas pressed onto us, for free. So that was pretty nice and made up for the annoying kids, who had lost interest in us by then anyway.
We upped anchor after a peaceful night's sleep and had a leisurely start in the morning, heading for Karimunjawa.

We finally managed to unfurl the headsail....the big Gennaker in fact....at one stage in the morning, but it was only for an hour or so and we soon had it put away and the engine running again. Another overnighter, dodging fishing boats, calm seas, and it was a comfortable cruise. We dropped anchor at the touristy Karimunjawa by 0730 in the morning, and organised to have our fuel Jerrycans filled, topping up with diesel.
We had a social dinner with some of our fellow cruisers, not having seen anyone for a few days. Crews from "Kereru", "Serica", "Coomera", "Manatee" and "Incognita" all happily tucked into the welcome luxury of pizza, cold beer and ice cream at the best restaurant in town.

The next day was bright and sunny and we dinghied across to an outlying resort island with a fascinating fringing reef. We had a great snorkel, slowly making our way around the reef. Some really beautiful patches of colour, plenty of fish and an entrancing glide through the bombies. I love my snorkel!
The bright and sunny business didn't last long though and we had a rough old night on the anchor, tracking down Hasim The Local Fixer in the rain, to pick up our laundry in the morning. (Hasim not only organises the laundry, he guided us in through the channel, directed us where to anchor, arranges fuel deliveries, sorts out mechanical repairs and I'm sure could offer fish and souvenirs as well.) The laundry wasn't dry of course, so we didn't leave the anchorage until late in the afternoon, this time looking at a lengthy 260 mile run to the island of Belitung.

It was a wet, wild and woolly start to the trip and we bravely set off with all sail up in 10-15 knots of wind. Which managed to last well into the night. It had calmed a bit by 2200 hrs and we dropped the mainsail, to travel under jib and one engine.
During Mary's watch, at 2.00 a.m., things blew up again and we were rolling around quite a bit with a reef in the jib. Not comfortable.

(And for those who are curious...we have a 4-hour watch system for the three of us...I'm normally on from 8.00 p.m. to midnight, Mary's on from Midnight to 4.00 a.m., and lucky Graham gets the sunrise watch from 4.00 a.m. to 8.oo a.m. We're pretty casual during the day though...) 

The rain continued all through the next day, and it wasn't until 4.00  in the afternoon that it finally stopped.
Another night, and things were easier as the wind backed. Lots of fishing boats, and we passed "Kereru" some time ​in the evening.

Laying in bed in the early morning, I was conscious that we were motoring along in flat water....which felt a bit odd, because it had been a bit rugged when I'd fallen asleep. Poking my nose up on deck just on sunrise, was an eery experience. It was the flattest, glassiest sea that I've seen, and the horizon was virtually invisible. The big Praying Mantis squid boats looked like they were flying.

So gradually, the sun came out and we burbled along, with "Kereru" ghosting us a few miles to port, until finally pulling into the anchorage at Belitung, another touristy island with funky beachfront restaurants. Into the beach and a relaxing lunch and a few beers on the beach with other cruisers, and we're all happy to be on the anchor. 

After the big crossing we were happy to have a day off, and we snorkled around the granite outcrops at the end of the beach, and, of course, had another nice lunch. Transferred some fuel from the cans into the tanks, slept in the afternoon and readied ourselves for a 2.oo a.m. departure the next morning for the next stop at Parai Beach in Bangka.
It was an interesting trip.
I had the first watch and for a couple of hours worked my way through an absolute labrynth of fishing craft, dodging hundreds of lights that flickered on and off when we came too close. I had the spotlight out and spied boats without lights, big boats, small boats, anything that would float. Even things that didn't float, the ubiquitous F.A.D.'s. 
​Big, bright white "El Gato" was quite visible to all and probably an impressive sight.
On Graham's watch there were cargo ships to avoid, and then, in the late morning we copped a 20 knot rainsquall on the nose and ploughed through it, with the occasional lightning bolt to keep us awake.

We were all feeling a bit weary by the time the storm had passed, and would've headed to the wrong anchorage if Adam, the skipper of "Serica", who was slightly ahead of us, hadn't speared off the route. The anchorage had been incorrectly marked in our Rally guide book, but we just followed big "Serica" and found ourselves outside a western-style resort where we claimed a spot amongst several other boats who had been travelling with the "other rally". (The "Sail Indonesia" rally, which had set off from Darwin as distinct from Cairns, where we'd left from with the "Sail2Indonesia" rally.)
​Parai Beach was the rendezvous spot for yet another round of Visa renewals, for both rallies, and the first time so far that we'd all come together.

So we dutifully handed in our passports to Raymond of Rally Control, and knew that it would be a long wait while we were held virtually captive at the probably once-plush resort. Needless to say, we had the menu down pat as the week dragged on, the weather deteriorated and the anchorage went from cosy, to rolly, to downright awful.
I felt genuinely sorry for those mono-hull sailors who straggled in as the days passed, many of whom had endured a rough few anchor-dragging nights in Borneo. Quite a few booked hotel rooms for a night or two, just to escape the rolling around at anchor.
​But finally, after our quite strange formal ceremonies and dinner at Government House, passports were returned with new visas, and we were free to escape once again.

We quickly skedaddled 30 miles up the coast to North Bangka, happy to be away from the Rolly Resort and enjoyed a calm overnight spell. But not for long. After a snorkel around the boat and a dinghy ride to the tiny beach, we were off again, this time to the tiny island of Pekacang, and an anchorage on the north side.
We found what we thought was a sandy spot over a rock shelf that extends out a fair way from the island, and, as is our custom, let out a generous amount of chain when we dropped the anchor, and had a sound, secure sleep.
Which was fine, until the morning. 
When we discovered that our chain was wrapped around a bombie or three, and we spent an hour or so doing backwards and forwards  manouvres and opposite direction loops around the place until we could finally get the anchor up. Still, no damage, and we then headed for a lovely calm anchorage at South Lingga. Which was an interesting sail, because we picked up a couple of friendly hitchhikers. It had blown up quite ​ a bit and we had the sails up, when a pair of swallows moved aboard......

The weather had blown up a lot, and we had everything reefed down dramatically for the two storms we endured that day. After the first storm had passed, we had pure glassy conditions for an hour or so, then were pounded by another session of 20 knots on the nose, and the odd lightning bolt. My rain-smudged log entry says "Crikey! Serious storm and rain. Visibility poor. Lost sight of..."  

So after the anchor chain episode and two "proper" squalls, we were all quite happy to join others aboard "Serica" for sundowners that evening, which stretched into the night. Good practice for the Equator Party we were anticipating in the next couple of days...
In the morning, it was off to the wonderful stilt-village island of Kongca Besar, with another couple of storms to keep us amused.

Within an hour of taking the two pics above, we were in the dinghy and cruising around the outside of the village in the sun. Aaaah, the wonderful tropics!

And next, we had Equator Day! We'd all been looking forward to that. From Kongka we set off, bound for the island of Kentar, but halfway there, we'd be sailing across the Equator. We were in company with a few other boats...Matilda, Kereru, and Incognita....and all dropped anchor together in some 10 metres of water, in the middle of nowhere.

After we'd done all of our On-Site festivities at the Equator itself, it was a quick run into the anchorage at Kentar, where we partied on "Serica" with lots of old friends, and new ones from "The Other Rally" who'd also done the crossing in the past few days.
The following day, our next stop was the island of  Benan, and the local village had planned festivities in our honour, which we all happily attended.
These were at the end of their pier, and involved all kinds of fun games, races, dancing, music and general jollity. It was a great afternoon. And not a storm in sight.

And onwards again. The official Rally Plan was to head for the city of Tanjung Penang for even more festivities, and to clear out of Indonesia from there. But with Graham's booked flight home sneaking up on us, we planned to skip that excursion and head straight for the marina at Nongsa Point, on the edge of the Singapore Strait. 
It was an easy run, we had a brief encounter with an Indonesian Navy patrol boat, and then headed into a luxury, western-style marina at Nongsa. (I think the only one in all of Indonesia.)
And the icing on the cake was being invited to a free celebratory dinner for the mostly-Singaporean yacht race crews who'd just been participating in some local event.
The next day, Graham had to head for the Singapore ferry and the airport, while we fuelled up, did all of our Customs formalities, plotted our Singapore Strait crossing and generally lapped up the facilities.
Happy hour drinks with new friends Mick and Beth from "Site" and old friends Helen and Mark from "Coomera", and we're all ready to head out in the morning....but that'll be in the next blog post. And meanwhile, here's the route through the Java Sea that you've just read about...

After the long hauls we'd had from Australia and southwards across the Banda Sea, we were faced with the absolute luxury of a series of day-hops across the top of the island chain. Feet up, daylight motoring or motor sailing with the odd few hours of actually just....plain sailing. Our first stop after the laid-back luxury of Maumere was outside the village of Maurole. (Confusing isn't it).
A tiny, poor, Christian village, with a Catholic church.
​On our first evening there, the local ladies were embarrassed that there was no food available for us. So they rounded up fresh ingredients from the tables of local families, and pitched in to make us a big dinner while we drank cold beer in the shade. And they did it again the next night, too! Amazing hospitality....some of the locals went without their dinners just to feed the yachties. (A couple of nights later we had the "official" welcome dinner where the town really turned it on for us, with singing, dancing, stageshow and most of the village just lined up to watch us eat).
​From Maurole, most of us piled into buses for the trip up into the mountains of Flores to visit the allegedly famous three-coloured lakes. Which are usually just plain grey if there's the normal raincloud covering them. 

We were particularly lucky, as the sun burst through the clouds just as we began the hike up through the volcanic mountains from the carpark. Braving naughty monkeys holding up tourists for snacks, we were happy to have made the effort. Really a unique place to visit.....

Ruing is a funny but friendly little place that seems to be wrestling with its identity. On the cusp of cracking the tourist market, it has wonderful diving locations nearby, some very western-oriented restaurants and backpacker accommodation, yet it retains its earthy Indonesian character. 
Ashore from our anchorage sits the Rica-Rica Bar, which offers cold Bintang beer and the normal menu of chicken, rice, vegies....and not much else. So we ordered the chicken. 
Ten minutes and a couple of phone calls later, into the kitchen, via the restaurant floor, runs someone with two squawking, live chickens. Then silence. Twenty minutes later, dinner is served. Wonderful. Fresh chicken. And yes, it was delicious.

We had a great social afternoon drinking cold Bintang in the Rica Rica Bar the next day, and shared the last of our boat-stored Australian steak with Brian and Penny from the boat "Ameldec" that night. Plus a few bottles of red....which, strangely enough, we've barely touched since leaving Australia. We haven't been eating too many meals on the boat actually, the restaurant food ashore in most places is usually very good, and very cheap. And, of course, some of the "official" buffet welcome dinners keep us fed, too.

From Ruing, it was onwards to an overnight anchorage at Lingeh Bay, in company with just one other yacht, the New Zealand "Kereru". It was Val's birthday so we had cocktails with her and Richard, after we'd spent most of the afternoon wrangling with local kids who'd paddled out, demanding freebies. "Books, mistah? Pens? Money?" 
It seems a little sad that generous cruisers in the past have just created some kind of little industry or false expectation by handing over "loot" and we now have a policy of only swapping stuff. Even just one piece of fruit makes it more of a dignified trade rather than pious charity.

From Lingeh Bay it was onto the beautiful, deserted coral atoll of Gili Bodo. We dropped anchor in solitude, with nobody for miles, and had more than a few nervous moments when a dark-looking fishing boat, flying black flags, came powering towards us from out at sea.
As it drew closer, we felt relieved and  put the cutlasses away when we realised it was just a day-trip snorkelling adventure boat, which dropped anchor next to us.
The passengers.....German backpackers....promptly stripped off and dived in, to swim to the beach and party.

​Meanwhile, I was into the water too, for some excellent snorkelling, and eventually the tourist boat left, and "Kereru" and "Ameldec" arrived for a particularly peaceful night on the anchor.
I've rediscovered the joy of snorkelling by the way, since using my "Easybreathe" goggle/snorkel combo. 

In the morning, it was up early for another snorkel around the reef and a SUP expedition to the beach. We'd seen a troupe of monkeys playing on the beach the previous afternoon (no, not with the German backpackers) and it was kinda cute to see their little hand and footprints in the sand. So Gili Bodo is a great place....but onwards we had to go, off to the city of Labuan Bajo.

A classic old port city, with stone walls around the docks, and all the bustle and hum of a real, working port that's having a tourism influx to keep things alive. There's big freighters, passenger ferries, and an amazing assortment of classic wooden Phinisi tall ships that service both the tourist trade and the outlying islands freight needs.

We cruised around the harbour until we found a suitable anchorage, being greeted by boat service people and ordering fuel...and being tempted by a beautiful string of local pearls offered by our fuel supplier, Mary splurged an entire $30 on a necklace.
The next day it was off to town in the dinghy, where it was a grungy tie-up against a concrete wall, but another boat trader offered to keep an eye on the dink for the rest of the day. (Which he did, but I did feel a bit obliged to invite him out to "El Gato" later to inspect his wares).
After the past couple of months of what's been pretty hard-core, local Indonesian food, we were most impressed to find a city with lots of Western goodies that we didn't even know we'd been missing. Bread! A Mexican brunch! Cafes! Italian restaurants! We were overwhelmed....and back in Tourist Territory with a vengeance. 

So what attracts all of the tourists to Labuan Bajo is the city's proximity to the very wonderful Komodo Islands, with their even more wonderful Komodo Dragons and excellent diving and snorkelling and the infrastructure to make it all easy. It's a young, adventure-oriented place and it's just plain groovy to be there. We had a couple of classic dinners ashore...BBQ fish at the seafood market, and an astounding eye fillet steak at the Italian restaurant.
With a couple of other boat crews, ("Incognita" and "Kereru") we decided it would be a great little break to let somebody else do the driving and navigating, and charter a local speedboat to go see the Dragons. So our dutiful skipper picked us all up from our boats in the anchorage and off we plodded (it was a budget-priced speedboat) to the island of Rincha, where there's a very healthy population of these giant lizards that can eat an entire buffalo in a single sitting.

We were fortunate to see some big dragons shortly after entering the National Park, but they'd all eaten recently and were quite docile-looking. (Although the rangers insist on accompanying anyone who wants to walk the 20 metres to the toilet block.) This is no zoo, there are no fences.
It was once we were out on the trail, trekking through the bush with a Ranger before and after our group, that we had a serious encounter. We were looking at a medium-sized female near her nest, when we heard a crashing through the scrub on the hill above us, and this big monster came charging towards us. There was a scramble to get out of his way.....these critters happily eat their own young, and anything else that looks like a tasty feed. If they can take down a buffalo or goat without raising a sweat, humans would be easy meat. And the rangers only carry a stick.

So that was our day out with the Dragons, and we happily sped back to town and the sanctuary of our own boats before another night out for dinner and socialising with the rally boat crews.
Off again in the morning, with some looking for the elusive Manta Rays to dive amongst, and some, like ourselves, just heading West.

We were heading for the north coast of Komodo Island, the little bay of Batu Montjo, still within the Komodo National Park, and, we'd been warned, still with Dragons on the loose....they can swim, and were often seen on the beach.  When we saw some movement in that direction, we thought we'd found  a dragon but the binoculars revealed an innocent wild pig instead.
So it was more snorkelling and SUPping, again in beautiful clear water with good coral, and another session, along with a walk along the beach in the morning.

We'd been taking the advice published in some of the Cruising Guides, which have generally been pretty reliable. So we were heading for Were Bay on Sumbawa, which was supposedly the centre of the Wooden Boat building industry. We arrived in the afternoon, more-or-less in company with some of the other rally boats, being "Soul", "Kereru", and "Lusi". 
The anchorage was quite chaotic....rolly, busy with local fishing boats. "Soul" became entangled with a squid boat later in the day, and with the other boat, scarpered off into the night, leaving us behind along with "Kereru". 
Richard and I went ashore to sniff out the wooden boats and were quite disappointed to find just one, which looked like it had fallen into disrepair because it had been there so long.

So we didn't find much in the way of big wooden Phinisis being built, but what we DID find was dozens of kids playing in the water with their model boats. Incredibly efficient little craft that sailed beautifully, and it looked like every kid in town had one and sailed every day.
​The boats were pretty much replicas of what we see out offshore every day. Simple, stable canoes with outriggers. 
That was all quite encouraging, but not quite what we were expecting.
Richard and I had a wander around the village, got growled at by a grumpy old lady for wearing shorts (when most of the kids on the beach were stark naked) and dinghied back out to our boats for the night.
After dark, we drifted dangerously close to one of the squid boats and spent an uncomfortable hour or so sitting on the bow waiting to fend off from the spider-like outrigger system. But fortunately, crews started arriving, smoky diesels fired up, and the squid boats headed out to sea, all lights blazing. We were quick to up-anchor in the morning when they started heading back in....
​

We were planning an overnighter at the anchorage at Kilo, but we had a surprising amount of wind early in the morning and were making great speed, so went straight through to the bay at Kananga, by ourselves, and had a superbly calm, peaceful night there. Didn't need to go ashore, and headed for Moyo in the morning. Which was an interesting run. 
Winds were light, and I hoisted the big gennaker, our light wind sail, which was terrific. For awhile, anyway. As the wind began to pick up from a happy ten knots to a happy 15 knots, everything was going swimmingly. I even photographed and "Instagrammed" a pic of the sail, set perfectly. But then a minute or so later, the wind picked up to 20 knots, and I mentioned to Mary that I was getting a bit concerned that we were flying along just a little too well....something might break.....and a few seconds later....25 knots of wind....boat charging along at 9.5 knots......BANG! Something DID break! The thing wot holds the sail up. (actually, some webbing that holds the sail up....the stitching fell apart.) So we headed the boat around downwind and wrestled in my favourite sail, tying it down on deck because by now the katabatic wind was blowing consistent high 20's. This was all a bit distressing of course....we hadn't seen any wind stronger than 5-10 knots for weeks, and had become so complacent that we hadn't even been doing weather checks before heading out. Not that these localised katabatic blasts show up on our weather GRIB charts anyway.
Eventually we made it into the anchorage at Moyo, now in 30 knot winds, and struggled to bundle up the giant big sail on the deck and stash it in a cabin below. Furling it or flaking it neatly wasn't an option, we just squeezed it all together and bundled it out of the way for the night. It took up most of the spare cabin.

Onwards again in the morning, with the big Gennaker awkwardly stowed away, across the Alas Strait and our first stop on the island of Lombok, anchoring at Gili Lawang. We were offshore from what looked to be a prison, but turned out to be a high-volume pearl farm.
During the late afternoon and early evening, we had an influx of rally boats....Matilda, Wirraway, Coomera, Hybreasail, Argonaut and Brahminy.
We were all off in the morning in very light winds and motored, all in a line, along the north coast of Lombok towards the fabled marina at Medana Bay. The nasty katabatic wind from a few days before revisited us from the West as we approached the harbour, just to make the anchoring amongst dozens of rally boats that little bit more challenging.
​But we were soon settled and joined the best part of the entire fleet, all telling lies in the bar over cocktails and cold Bintangs.

The following one was a day off for most crews, and with those from Wirraway and Afar IV we shared a car and driver and toured Lombok a little. Friendly monkeys by the mountain roadside, temples (lots of temples), pottery shops, a traditional lunch and finally a drive through Sengiggi added up to a big day ​ out. Especially as we were also preparing for the run to Bali the next morning, across the notoriously sketchy Lombok Strait.

It was a bit frustrating being in Lombok for such a short time, but we were at the mercy of the Indonesian Immigration officials as our visas were due to expire in a few days. So we had to be in Lovina to start that process in motion. 
We made an early start from Medana Bay and had a stiff breeze on the beam all the way across the strait....a genuine, cracking sail in fact, both sails reefed, up until we'd completed the crossing and followed the north coast of Bali with a nasty current and following wind against it. 
Then it was around the top and a protected motor into the bay at Lovina, a north coast backwater without all the frenzy of the Kuta Beach end of the island.
Over the next few days we started work on the visas, Deb and Bruce from Matilda stitched up our gennaker, Simon from Micha helped us with a dodgy anchor winch switch and life became very relaxing in the comfort and familiarity of our cosy old friend, Bali. (Which we first visited back in 1974).

We quickly slotted into the rythm of the island and actually appreciated the peace of Lovina, a welcome respite from the rally schedule, and, despite there being no surf, a welcome change from the hustle and madness of the Kuta end.
I had organised for some spare generator parts to be shipped to the Rip Curl office at Kuta, so shared a car and driver to head down there for the day and pick up my bits, while Bruce and Deb stayed for a few days.
We stopped at a coffee plantation on the way down, which was an interesting diversion.

The Sail2Indonesia rally has been a great social event. We've all made lots of new friends and everybody helps each other out, shares meals, drinks, dinghy rides and everything else, so a few of us decided to join in for a Roast Suckling Pig dinner, a Bali speciality. The expected dozen or so starters turned into over 35 starters, and the suckling pig turned into a full sized porker, so that was a classic night ashore with a few sore tummies afterwards.

​It was about this time that we decided to take a bit of a break from the rally schedule, which has been pretty tight, especially when visa extensions are taken into consideration. So, rather than have a rushed trip to Borneo and back to quickly see the Orangutans up the jungly river, we decided to ease the pressure, skip a leg or to, and continue west towards Sumatra, our next visa renewal stop, and eventually, Singapore.
Which meant that I could go surfing for a few days, Mary could luxuriate in swimming pools and have a few days amongst the shops at Kuta, and we could consider bringing one of our friends aboard to help us sail through a few of the night passages that we had ahead of us.
I got in early with a trip to Medewi, where I surfed tons of waves on a fat, roly-poly left hand point break that's just made for a longboard....which just happens to be the only surfboard on the boat. The only downside to that is that the water's absolutely filthy there, and of course, I picked up an ear infection. But that's what antibiotics are for...

So that just about brings us to today, when I'm down in the hull finishing off the blog, Mary's having a little holiday at Kuta, and old mate Graham Symonds is flying in tomorow to jon the crew. We'll be off in a couple of days, through the Bali Sea and out into the Java Sea. Meanwhile, Bali's still Bali....

Departure from the lovely Banda Neira was in a slight rain....which we were accustomed to, because it seems like we've had some rain every day since Cairns.
The overnight crossing to Namrole wasn't our most comfortable, with awkward winds directly behind us, a fair swell, and rain most of the night....the wind ensuring the mainsail was going to flap and bang around, and we were going to be wet and a little chilly upstairs in our highrise bridge-deck steering station. 
Once daylight returned, we seemed to be surrounded by squalls, and as we approached Namrole's obvious headland it disappeared into the greyness. We know that our charts aren't dead accurate in Indonesia, and to run the gauntlet of an unknown coast, fishing nets and floating debris in a grey blanket of rain wasn't enticing at all. 
But things began looking up when we had a radio call to let us know that there was a ferry stationed outside the port to guide us in. Wonderful! Our own personal pilot, who led us into the anchorage. And even better, once we'd dropped the anchor, a wooden longboat with guides from the Tourism Dept. approached us, said hello, and returned half an hour later with hot take-away lunches in styrofoam boxes for us. Welcome to Namrole! 

Later in the day, we were loaded into the longboats to partake in the festivities which had been arranged for us, primarily by the local Regent and his wife....who happened to own the beer tent. Needless to say, official ceremonies and dinners went on for days while we enjoyed the Regent's hospitality. Which was all a little difficult to deal with after a sleep-deprived and uncomfortable overnight voyage, but I escaped most of the arranged tours as our vitally-important generator decided to misbehave, so it was out with the spanners.
Escaping the local kids wasn't quite so easy, as even out in the anchorage there were whole school groups brought down to wave at the visiting yachts and cries of "Hello Mister!!!" seemed to start from sun-up. (Not too long after the local mosques started broadcasting their calls to prayer, actually.)

Things weren't all perfect in Namrole however, and a consistent swell invaded the harbour, making things quite uncomfortable. At the outlying island, waves wrapping around the point were almost surfable. Our Cat doesn't roll with the swell like the monohulls do, but while we had to deal with a few (well, constant) annoying creaks and groans from the boat, single hulled yachts were swinging wildly from side to side, making life miserable for the occupants. Many of whom were starting to become ill....and "Namrole" became "Damnrolly" fairly quickly.

But the illnesses became worse, and it wasn't just the rolly anchorage and fatigue from the overnight voyages that we'd all been doing.
Fortunately, I was a little remote from all of the ceremonies and shorebased tours while I was busily wielding spanners and trying to nurse my problematic generator back to health. But not having any symptoms, we skipped the medical checks and just tried to go about our normal daily business....eating, drinking and throwing spanners around.
Not so for many of the crews however. The Regent had generously laid on a doctor on shore, who earnestly took on the task of examining most of the afflicted, as well as their partners who may not have been ill. And promptly diagnosed most of them with various strains of Malaria, for which she issued the appropriate drugs.

And finally it was time to skulk out of Namrole, missing the very final, final ceremonial dinner and speeches, and facing yet another overnight sail....this time heading for Wanci in Wakatobi. The Malaria-afflicted had not much choice...sail on!
As it turned out, it was an absolutely blissful sail through the night. Winds were lighter and consistent, and because we'd broken the link between our sail and the lower mast slide, we were reefed all night to hold the foot of the sail securely. Which made for a relaxing cruise.
Coming toward the harbour at Wanci, which is built inside a natural coral reef, we were greeted by the HarbourMaster Mr. Gino, who piloted us in and directed us to an appropriate spot to drop the anchor. And the sun was shining, and the water was clear and clean.
​Every one of the Rally crews has been upset at the sight of so much plastic garbage at every stop so far, but here at Wanci, Gino made a great statement as he was leaving our boat. "See how clean the harbour is? We want to keep it that way....don't DARE throw rubbish overboard!" Good onya Mr. Gino!

In Wanci, we really started to relax and enjoy being in Indonesia. Another very official ceremony on our first evening in port, where somehow Mr. Gino had decided that I was the official spokesman for the evening and I made a lengthy one minute speech, vs. the local dignitaries who rambled on for hours, in Indonesian.  It was a tasty dinner, but the fleet was all a bit baffled about what was going on for the night and we all felt that the Cruise2Indonesia was just an add-on to whatever the Regent had planned anyway. None of us had a clue what the night was about.
The next morning, taking the advice of one of the several doctors who are sailing  on the Rally, we decided that those who hadn't been checked already, should make their way to the local hospital for Malaria tests.
Mr. Gino was adamant that we should all travel together, by ambulance, so we went into waiting mode outside his office until the ambulance arrived. All 13 of us. And the ambulance was tiny, with just a small stretcher in the back. But we all squeezed in, the doors were forced close, and with faces pressed up against the windows, we zoomed off towards the hospital...WITH THE SIREN GOING! People on the street looked on curiously.
After going through routine blood pressure tests and filling out lots of paperwork, we finally had our fingers stabbed and the tests were done. We all tested negative.
So the testing back at Namrole was probably a bit dodgy, and some of the poor buggars who had been fed Malaria pills were actually suffering from something else...like Salmonella or Typhus, which were both diagnosed later in the trip.

The day after the Great Hospital Trip was a pretty happy day, and quite a few of the survivors made ourselves comfortable at a funky old restaurant that overlooked the harbour...in fact, we made a few trips back to that restaurant while we were in town.
The pace of the Rally had been fairly intense up until this point, so it was great when Adam, the skipper of the big steel ketch "Serica" declared it was Party Night and most of the crews descended onto his boat, all having a wonderful time and finally starting to relax. It did pour with rain later in the night, so a wet dinghy ride home, but happy sunshine again in the morning and we skipped another official lunch ceremony in favour of the Resto at the harbourfront.
Just another boat day for us, as the freezer then decided to stop working, so we handed out bits of food to some of the crews, relocated some to the smaller freezers in the fridges, chucked a bit overboard and even ate some. Didn't have time to worry about the freezer too much though as we were also preparing for yet another overnight passage.

This was to be our last overnighter for awhile, but I had some trepidation about it as we were going to sail due South...possibly into the teeth of the Trade Winds which have been behind us for so long. And just to rattle us a little more, as we were about to have a pre-departure breakfast, we discovered a big hole in the bread packet that had been on the galley bench overnight, and a largish mouse poo next to it. A Rat On A Boat! Not a good thing.
The trip started uneventfully enough, the seas turned rough on us for awhile in the afternoon and early evening, eventually settling a bit until we sailed comfortably on a 15-20 knot Beam Reach (the wind from the side) so the Trades had smiled on us and blew from the East.
We had planned to head straight for the tiny Krobo island, not having a need for a city stopover. But further signs of rat activity were magnified when the little bastard bit Mary on the elbow as she slept. Mousetraps! Poison! we didnt have anything aboard to deal with sharptoothed rodents who are notorious for chewing complex electrical wiring. Of which we have a lot aboard "El Gato". Was the little horror responsible for our freezer malfunction? 
War was declared and we changed course for the town of Lowoleba where we assumed supplies of the rat-ridding kind would be available.

One of our local tour guides gave me the seat on the back of his motorcycle, and we were off on the Grand Tour of Hardware Shops, eventually coming back to the boat with packets of poison and a great big cage with deviously-designed and counter-balanced trapdoor.
It was Game On with the odds in our favour. Sure enough, overnight there was some snacking on the poison and after another day we were confident that our furry hitchhiker was defunct. Or had vacated the boat anyway...we also found droppings in the dinghy and ruthlessly flushed the false floor by pulling out the bung plug...
And a couple of days later, our friend Olaf from the German yacht "Antares" helped us find the freezer problem, which wasn't a hungry rat but just a loose connection. So our rat problem was over, and we moved on to the next adventure which was much more pleasant.

We motored out of the harbour, up the entry channel and into a tiny channel towards the anchorage at the even tinier little island of Krobo....which proved a little too windy and exposed, so we followed a mark on my charts of dubious origin, into an enclosed lagoon in front of a small village, and set the anchor precariously close to the coral edge. Which turned out to be absolutely fantastic, with friendly locals calling past the boat, crystal clear water and excellent snorkelling amongst lots of fish and healthy coral. I'd inflated my blow-up SUP and we both floundered around for hours. Good stuff!
From there, it was onto Sagu Bay, just around the corner, which was unfortunately not so friendly with a few teenagers in canoes being exceptionally rude and aggressive...one of them pinching an expensive fishing rod from the deck of "Serica". But we did have a pleasant Sundowners session on "El Gato" with the crews from "Serica", "Antares" and "Paw Paw" but we moved on from there pretty quick in the morning.

We found ourselves in another little paradise just a few hours on...the bay of Tanjung Gedong was a little beauty. Again, crystal clear water, happy, friendly kids, snorkelling, SUPping, and yet another party on "Serica" at sunset. We stayed for a couple of nights and didn't actually set foot ashore.

From there, it was dodging fishing nets and weaving through a tightish channel to the port of Wodong, where we anchored outside a funky backpacker-style dive resort. Slow and sleepy, tasty food and a nice vibe but not much to do and not worth more than a night....I'd been a little spoiled by the couple of out-of-the-way places we'd visited. So, it was onward, to the city of Maumere and a comfy anchorage off Sea World Resort, a much more up-market establishment which put on a great night of food and dancing for us. 

Maumere has everything that we needed in terms of supplies and services, the resort was lovely, and welcoming, and it also happens to be the narrowest part of Flores. So it was just a short drive across to the southern coast, and when invited to share a car for a little surf trip, I jumped at the chance. A few of us piled into the tiny little car that we rented, and along with the driver, set off on our little "'Search" and found a crumbly little wave to paddle out amongst. Not an excellent wave but it sure felt good to be back in the water. 

And almost finally, another wonderful thing about Flores is it's terrific Ikat fabric. Hand woven by the women in the villages, and on sale in the markets or from the ladies themselves, there's some beautiful work available....

And even more finally, thanks to our fellow cruisers for being such a wonderful bunch. And in particular, extra thanks to Bruce for the help with the battery bank, to Olaf for fixing the freezer, to Adam, Lance and Mark for helping with the generator, to Sandy for organising the surf trip, and of course thanks to Mary for helping keep "El Gato" afloat. And there's sure to be some I've forgotten....

Into the channel between islands we sailed, the famed "Spice Islands" which the Dutch fiercely protected from the Portuguese, the English and even the Bandanese. Ruthless days back in the sixteenth century, and blood spilled freely for hundreds of years.
It was believed that spices from these islands could fend off the Bubonic Plague, and prices were higher than gold. The English and the Dutch did a trade at one point, swapping Manhattan Island for one of the smaller islands in the Banda group.
But today, the Dutch and English have all gone, leaving behind the odd cannon which is put to good use by cruising yachties for tying up the dinghy.
It's a charming place, volcanic islands thrusting skywards from the Banda Sea with its depths sometimes reaching over 5 kilometres. That's a unique feeling, floating above that much water.

Visitors these days are somewhat rarer it seems, and we are welcomed by the locals with open arms. A truly unique place to visit, still unspoiled, fascinating history, superb landscape and a quiet little tourism industry that could easily explode. 
Our horde of invading sailors is the biggest thing the island's seen for awhile, and between us all, we've taken advantage of Spice tours, cooking classes, massage services, volcano climbing, snorkelling and scuba tours, as well as devouring lots of really tasty, spicy local food. (Myself, I'm up for a daily Pilau Pisang, a banana, coconut and cinnamon smoothie.)

We've had a couple of rainy days in a row, (which is why the blog's been getting done) but need to pull the anchor up tomorrow morning to head for our next destination on Buru Island, to the west of Ambon.
Another two-day, one-night sail, around 200 nautical miles. We've become accustomed to clipping on at the helm for our 4-hour watches, and should have a relatively calm sea for this passage. We'll eat some diesel I think....the batteries will love us for it. We're expecting rain for most of the trip, so visibility may be an issue, but the rain may keep some of the fishing boats in port, too.
Ghost nets, unlit (and lit!) trawlers and fish-aggregating devices are just a few of the hazards to watch for. 
A few of the fleet have left this morning and we're up for a farewell dinner tonight. So today's a cleanup and passage-planning day, and we'll be "out there" and out of internet/phone contact after tomorrow morning. 

And finally the day came to haul anchor, Friday 15th. July. Point North West and head off to Indonesia! Unfortunately, the day looked a bit greyish, but sailing conditions looked ideal if you interpreted the weather forecast with an optimistic eye.
By mid-afternoon it started to get a bit windier, and we thought it prudent to put a couple of reefs into the mainsail. We were surrounded by other members of the fleet, and as the boats stretched their legs, things started to heat up. As dark came in, gusts were up to 27 knots and seas were approaching 3 metres, and things were fairly hectic. It was a rough night, and with big "El Gato" cracking over 10 knots we furled the jib to pocket-handkerchief-size and were still flying along at over 8 knots. And it rained. And the swell picked up. For another day. And another night. And at one point I pined to be sitting at home in front of the fire with a warm dog at my feet. Some of the comments on the log sheets read..."Not Pleasant", "Cold", "Raining", "Rolly", "One engine running" "Port engine dead". GRIM Indeed! 
Yes, on the second night out, the Port engine decided to retire, so battery charging with the remaining engine became rather....critical. Paranoia set in.
But when you've been left port for a couple of days and have a stiff breeze behind you, there's not much chance of turning back, so pressing on is the only option.
By the Sunday morning, the wind was easing and the sun poked through and the world looked a better place, and we were happily cruising at 6-8 knots. And now the depth meter has malfunctioned!
By Monday morning, things were even easier and I crawled into the engine bay to replace an alternator belt, and our engine troubles were over. Until Tuesday, when the OTHER engine lit up its battery charging light and we had to turn that one off. And we'd just used our last spare belt...
But we were almost there. We sailed slowly to the entrance to the channel at Tual, waiting for the sun to appear, and then had a lovely sail until arriving into the port, and anchoring right in front of the Customs Office . Quarantine and Immigration officials boarded us promptly, and took great delight in photographing themselves doing their job on this glamorous big catamaran. Customs weren't quite so slick, and we had to be content with staying aboard until we were cleared in by them the next morning.

But things were definitely looking up. The engine malfunction was just a slipping alternator belt. The depth meter wasn't malfunctioning, it's just not capable of measuring over 100 metre depths and worked fine once we were in shallower water. (We'd been sailing at times in water well over a kilometre deep!)
And finally, we were ashore. We showed our host, Raymond Lesmana, what we needed in the way of spare alternator belts and before long we'd found our spares (in the most fabulous Chinese hardware store that sold EVERYTHING) and were tucking into a very tasty Indonesian fried chicken lunch.
Later in the day I installed an Indonesian SIM card into my old iPhone, and we were connected to the World. And feeling pretty good that we'd just executed our first big International crossing, and all of the fears and anxiety about engine and electrical failure had simply washed away with calmer waters and an anchor planted in the sand.
From then, we started to relax and enjoy the company of our fellow cruisers, and the hospitality of our Indonesian hosts. Welcoming ceremonies, buffet dinners, visits to the markets and tours around the island....Whoop! We're in Indonesia!

Because the weather had been a bit dodgy, the camera remained in the bag for quite awhile, but when I started to review what I'd shot so far, it was fun to realise that we'd been seeing a lot of smiling, welcoming Indonesian faces. Helpful and charming people that really made us feel comfortable. 
Fishermen called out to us as they motored past our boat, and we always had help tying dinghies up to the dock or a convenient fishing boat as we clambered over their decks. Kids (and adults) lined up for photos and so did we, subjects for a thousand mobile phone snapshots and selfies with the foreign yachties.
The food was fabulous, too, and we ate like there was no tomorrow. 

After nearly a month in Cairns, the focus intensified with a series of briefings from the Sail2Indonesia Rally Organisers and we met lots of our fellow cruisers on a social basis.
Finally, the Big Day came and we motored down the channel from Cairns, planning to overnight in Port Douglas where we were going to fuel up.
It was all going swimmingly for the first few minutes, until I noticed the battery light cheerfully shining away on the starboard engine's dashboard. Buggar!
After quickly cutting the engine, we motorsailed on the remaining, healthy motor until arriving at P.D., where we tied up at the fuel dock with a little help from our friend Mark Christian.
He'd arranged for an electrician to check the boat early in the morning, but as we'd been on shore power all night, the battery was fully charged, the alternator was fine and the Sparky suggested that we just keep on trucking' North.
Which we did, but within an hour or so, the battery was flat and remained so for the duration of the trip to Thursday Island. A permanently flat Starboard starter battery. 
So we developed a regime of starting the motors with the House batteries, which was a bit of a worry, because if THEY went flat, we'd REALLY be in strife. So we tended to overcompensate and probably motorsailed way more than we would've liked, just to keep charge in the batteries.
Anyway, enough of the battery battles....back to the trip.
North Queensland has strong wind. Every day. Strong, consistent South Easterly trade winds that can be a delight for a well-found sailboat....which our Big Cat certainly is. 
Sailing in company with six or seven other yachts, big El Gato couldn't be held back. We often romped ahead of the pack, so that we were usually anchored comfortably at the end of each day, while our compadres were still battling the weather a few miles back.

On one particularly good half-day run, we sailed under a fully-reefed mainsail and partially-furled jib, on a beam reach, and were cracking 10 knots occasionally....epic sailing, and the boat handled it with aplomb.
It reminded me of how my big BMW Adventure motorcycle could handle a vast range of different conditions and perform excellently in each...brilliant design and a strong build pay dividends. So I learned a lot about the boat during the trip North.
Which was just as well. On the fourth day out from Cairns, we'd had a relatively calm morning's sail, but I knew that we were to be rounding the notoriously windy Cape Melville later in the day, and I was looking forward to another beam reach run towards the Flinders Island group.
So I had already shortened sail when we were picking our way around the corner of the Cape between rocky outcrops, and had just cleared the area when the radio crackled into life with a distress message and a set of Lat/Long position coordinates....which looked disturbingly like OUR coordinates, which meant we were Johnny-On-The-Spot for some unfolding tragedy very close nearby. Fortunately, with the sails reduced in size, it made it easier to throw the boat around in the 25-knot wind, crash jibing at random, and head out to sea where we scanned the horizon for a boat in distress. Which we didn't find until the radio commanded us to come back in again as the position of the distress signal had changed back to where we were in the first place, rounding the nasty rocky outcrops that stand off the Cape.
Between scanning the water with binoculars, dealing with the radio, dodging the rocks and steering through the 25-knot winds while trying to make sense of a set of coordinates while the plotter's screaming warning signals, it was all a bit hectic....but within five minutes, WE SPOTTED 'EM!
A bright orange "V" Sheet held aloft with fishing rods led us to the 5-metre open boat, where a father and his teenage son were VERY glad to see us. We sailed past them, letting them know we'd be back once we'd dropped our sails. Which we did, then came back and threw them a towline and we then towed them to safety for an hour or so, until we could drop anchor near the beach. Then, it was hitch them to the dinghy and take them to dry land, which they were very happy to be on. They'd been anchored off the nasty big rock all night, had slept on the floor of the open boat, and were quite exhausted. Thankfully, they had been well prepared and very sensible, and survived their engine trouble because they didn't panic and did everything right. So they were great people to rescue!
After that little episode, it was on to Flinders Island, where our little group of fellow cruisers had already anchored, and we felt like we had really earned our sundown drinks on the beach that night.

We'd been loosely cruising with several other yachts since leaving Port Douglas. "Continuum", "Wirraway", "Brahminy Too", "Sentinel" and "Matilda" all had similar schedules to us, and there was often a bit of banter over the VHF radio. Great to know there's somebody else out there.....
The next morning, it was off from Flinders Island towards anchorage at Morris Island, and time for a bit more boat trouble, this time from "Brahminy Too" who dropped to the back of the pack while fixing fuel leak issues. So it was their turn to limp into the anchorage in the dark that night. 
And the next day, it was "Wirraway"'s turn, when they lost their steering midway through a windy, blustery passage and drifted aimlessly until Gary, her skipper, jury-rigged an emergency tiller.
It seemed that every day, something was going wrong to somebody, and it's quite remarkable just how resilient and resourceful these superannuated old cruisers can be when it comes to the test. 
The whole trip North, from Cairns to Thursday Island, was done in just six days....pretty quick compared to a few years ago when we did it in over a month aboard "Endurance".
But it was a more boisterous, purposeful passage this time, and we didn't mind so much because we'd already done it, so even passing the top of Cape York didn't hold the same thrill. It was a great opportunity though to learn more about our boat and I feel more confident for our Indonesian expedition having done the Queensland coast this past week. 

And now, we're at the wonderful Thursday Island, Australia's great Northern outpost, and it really is a wonderful place. I feel quite proud that it's part of our country. Great people, great culture, something really special.
And it's our jumping-off place for the big crossing to Indonesia. In the morning, we're setting off on a five day/six night crossing to the port of Tual in North Eastern Indonesia. We've been sorting out any outstanding issues....(we think we've won the Battle Of The Battery....we went and bought a new one) and now, we're quietly confident, and ready to go on the morning tide.

​So, all being well, the next blog will be written in Indonesia......

Yes, I did come out of the mothballs with a boys' surf trip to The Maldives, and yes, the boat came out of the mothballs too, after a lengthy Cyclone Season break in the Marina at Magnetic Island.
We've spent most of the Summer months at home in Jan Juc, and the blog's been on vacation while we were passing the season like normal domesticated people.
However, I don't need an excuse to post surfing pictures of myself so I'll serve 'em up regardless while they're fresh.

So while Mary was working most of the summer, I was lazing around the house, surfing, sailing in friends' boats or riding my motorcycle. To Sydney and back, around the East Coast, which was interesting because I hadn't had a decent run for ages. My motorcycle skills have been in mothballs too. Numb Bum set in way too early.
I had made a couple of trips north over the season to take care of essential maintenance work, some of which was quite intense.....cleaning rotten food out of the fridges when the batteries failed, for instance.
I was keen to get the mighty "El Gato" back to sea, and was stoked to have old friend Paul Rose agree to join me on the voyage north from Townsville to Cairns. Paul had been instrumental in my initial purchase of "Endurance", being a traditionalist at heart, and had also helped me with that boat's initial delivery trip from Sydney to Geelong. It was almost against his religious beliefs to sail aboard a plastic boat! And a catamaran at that! 
With Mary still finishing up at work, Paul and I set off to Queensland by air, and had a magnificent flight along the Queensland coast, allowing me to look out the window and retrace "Endurance's" path north from a couple of years previously. We were travelling a little quicker though....

It took us a few days to prepare the boat for sea, and Paul was a great help. We installed an awkward new hot water heating element, a new starter battery and generally un-mothballed the yacht before we could head out.
But finally we motored around to Horseshoe Bay and dropped anchor, and gradually started feeling at home on the boat again.
Then on to the Palm Group of islands, where we met some locals and chatted for awhile. Really cool people, elders from Palm Island who were making a little camp on Fantome Island, where they could bring indigenous kids from the mainland to "teach them how to be aboriginals".
​We were made to feel welcome and it really made our day to hear these guys talk.
​Palm Island is a notorious government dumping ground for aboriginal people from as far  away as Western and South Australia who've been uprooted by "progress" in their homelands.

Feeling pretty good after our encounter with the locals, it was off to Lucinda to pick up the grandkids, the plan being to head up the Hinchinbrook channel and anchor for the night in one of the creeks.
No such luck though, as when we'd loaded them all aboard and waved their Mama bye-bye, the Starboard motor started to misbehave. Damn! Broken alternator belt! Paul sweated away in the Black Hole of the engine bay all afternoon, and by the time the problem was sorted, it was too late to go anywhere...so the night was spent on the anchor off the beach at Lucinda.
​The kids didn't expect the next adventure to be very exciting after watching us work all afternoon, but Papa always has something new up his sleeve for them.
The next morning we motored up the channel, not catching any fish or spotting any crocs, so the kids were a bit ho-hum about it all but did enjoy a spot of steering.
Approaching the cyclone-damaged and near-derelict Hinchinbrook Marina, I knew that the big boat would be a tight squeeze in the unknown conditions there, so we anchored offshore and all piled into the dinghy to go and meet their Mum. Which was quite sensible it seemed, until, in the middle of the marina, and fifty metres from the bank, the dinghy ran aground in soft, black, slimy mud, with just a foot of water covering it.
So, with their Mum looking on aghast from the shore, we finally made it to the bank after half an hour of fruitless paddling and trying to run the motor through the horrible black goop.
But that wasn't the end of the adventure for Paul and myself. Once the kids were safely back ashore we headed out again, through the narrow entrance channel to the marina, and there was a GREAT BIG CROCODILE stretched out on the mudbank. He looked me in the eye and slid into the water and directly under the dinghy, while I tightened the sphincter valve and twisted the throttle. Gently. Until we were in clean water, and then we ZOOMED out of the river and clambered aboard into the relative safety of our big Cat.     

After all of the excitement of the Crocodile Encounter....which happened, incidentally, on about the same day as a tourist was eaten by one just a few miles up the coast, we sailed along happily further north, and spent the night on the anchor at Dunk Island. No, we didn't fancy a swim.
The next night we were into the old sugar port of Mourilyn, which is the kind of place you'd really EXPECT to see crocodiles. Anchored amongst the mangroves, we spotlighted the mud banks at night but didn't see any suspicious slithery critters.
​And out of there in the morning, into a blustery wind and the run up to Cairns, passing the HMAS Adelaide, an Australian warship on exercises, on the way.

We came into Cairns with a Jobs-To-Do list a mile long, and a 30-knot breeze across the bow, but we were happy to be there. Cairns is busy, bustling, noisy and brash, but feels good. There's food, language and style from all over the world and the tourists just flock to the place.

We were fortunate to lob into a marina pen just a few boats away from another big Lagoon catamaran, "Moor R&R", crewed by Paul and Kathryn, who I'd got to know back on Magnetic Island over the Summer mothball season. Great to see them again.
But it was back to work for me, as the countdown begins for the Indonesia trip. The work list can't be ignored, and gradually gets done. New house batteries, engine servicing, a haul out for antifouling at the sandfly-and crocodile ridden Coconut Slipway up the river, and dozens of other small jobs that scream for attention. 

Paul Rose has headed home and Mary's now arrived and making her presence felt aboard. Clean sheets! She's been beavering along, cleaning up and reprovisioning for the Indonesia trip. But she drew the line at staying aboard during the antifouling process, which was probably sensible.
Paul Rogers, from "Moor R&R" volunteered to help take the boat up the river, which was great. There was one little "moment" though when he fell through the deck trampolines as we were coming into the slip. Very dramatic, very lucky that he scrambled up through them before he hit the ugly slipway trolley below. A bit funny, too, because we'd been talking about my new tramps (coming from France) just a few minutes before.

I did half of the sanding on the boat and all of the painting, during an intense, uncomfortable and extremely grotty couple of days on the slipway.
​Paul and Kath were moored out front in the river, as they were due to come out as soon as I was finished. So we helped each other with shifting the boats around, which involved a few dinghy runs up and down the river...spotting a croc on one occasion, but not the 5 metre monster which lives by the slipway.
And my final trial at the slip came when I re-launched, and one just-serviced engine failed to pump cooling water through. The mechanic had forgotten to open the seawater inlet!
No harm done though, and we were eventually back to the comfort of the marina and amongst the growing fleet preparing for the Indonesian rally. Over thirty boats, with their crews all running around town and working through their "to-do" lists, as we are too. In earnest. 

With our little expedition to the Palm group over, it was time to break out the mothballs and prepare "El Gato" for the cyclone season in Nelly Bay.
Graham Symonds helped me strip sails off and stash them away before he flew back to Fremantle, and then I doggedly worked through my "to-do" list as every day seemed to grow a little hotter, a little sweatier, and more tropical than the one before it.
I soon adopted a routine of working in the mornings and swimming in the pool in the afternoons. With, of course, the odd cocktail or cold beer for sundowners.

There was probably a lot more swimming in the pool than working, but then, I am retired after all.
It feels dreadful leaving a boat to just sit in the blistering tropical heat over summer, but there's nothing much else to be done and Summer back home is calling.
It's a different world back in Torquay, and there will be a whole new "to-do" list when I'm back on the boat again too. The plan is to make a few trips North over the summer to keep an eye on the Big Cat, before setting off again next year. Having grandkids now based in Far North Queensland gives me one more reason to keep commuting up there, so I don't mind at all. 
Meanwhile in Torquay I've been working through new mapping, navigation and weather-forecasting software for next year, and tossing around lots of options. SEAiq, VentureFurther, iSailor, OpenCPN, MacENC, Google Earth, PredictWind Offshore, WeatherTrack, HF WeatherFax and XGate are all getting a look-in, as well as upgrades to our existing Navionics package. The advances in technology are amazing and the potential uses for our iPads, mobile phones and laptops are boundless. Now, where were those paper charts....

Torquay's all about surfing, too, so I've been gradually getting back in wave riding trim after suffering a cruel back injury soon after my return...

So "Surfing" and "Pain" are synonymous at the moment. It's possibly a coincidence that when I'm on the boat, in tropical weather, back problems disappear.

On the menu for April is a surfing trip (without the boat) to The Maldives, so I'm hoping the tropical weather theory will stand up.

And in May, we'll be back on "El Gato" and heading for Cairns, and a whole new adventure. 

​

We sailed around Maggie Island in very blustery conditions, to drop anchor for the night in Horseshoe Bay, and the next morning it looked like we were due for a perfect sailing day. Which it was. Graham races Hobie cats in Perth, and was keen to take the helm. 
With a 25 knot breeze from behind us, I set the jib, and the mainsail stayed in the bag. As the day progressed, the wind backed off a little and I swapped the jib for the big Gennaker, then we just cruised comfortably past Palm Island itself and around into the bay at Fantome Island.
​(Palm Island, which had a couple of years ago been encouraging and welcoming cruising boats, was now asking them to stay away because the island was suffering extreme drought and running out of water. Aboriginal settlements still get a raw deal.)
The site of an old leper colony, Fantome still has the wreckage of the settlement, which hasn't ever been cleaned up properly and is strewn with asbestos and rubbish from the buildings. It's a beautiful little island, but a disgrace that the Queensland Government hasn't dealt with removing the mess properly. 
It's a very unique little spot, and we'd enjoyed it when Mary and I had come through in "Endurance" the previous year. (It was the site of my marathon swim sprint to retrieve our dinghy that had worked itself loose.) Needless to say, I kept a close eye on the dinghy this time.

We had a good wander around on Fantome Island, and on the north end, away from the Leper Colony ruins, came across old campsites with bleached bones lying in the sand. Okay, I was kidding about the Skull Cave. There's no Ghost Who Walks or even any masked gentlemen running around in purple lycra. There is a beach though. And there's no pirates or treasure hunters' buried remains, but goat bones. Whoever had been using the campsite, over the years, had been barbecuing goats. (Goats were introduced to many of the offshore islands during the 19th century. It was reasonably considered that they would provide food for passing sailors, and they thrived. Most of the continental islands inside the Barrier Reef still have a healthy feral goat population, despite Queensland National Parks' best efforts to eliminate the hardy little buggars.)
I found a perfectly intact goat skull, nicely bleached, and decided it would make a great boat mascot. Fantome also has lots of giant clam shells lying around and absolutely massive piles of bleached coral. But of course, it's probably illegal to take any of that.
​ 

On with the tour, and we headed a few miles north to pick up a mooring at Orpheus Island, another beautiful little spot in the Palm Group. Here there's some great coral reef, and we dinghied to the beach on the high tide, and snorkelled the reef on the low tide. 
There's a few moorings at Orpheus, and by Sundown there was a fleet of four or five cruisers....all catamarans.... settling in for the night. By now, the gale-force wind and rain had completely dissipated, and we were enjoying classic North Queensland conditions.

The motor-sail back to Magnetic Island into a gentle headwind was easy, highlights of the crossing being encounters with a Hammerhead shark and a banded sea snake. And the day was complete when we found a wind pocket that whooshed us through the western passage past Magnetic Island and around to the marina at Nellie Bay, with Graham at the wheel being careful to avoid the nasty reef in the middle of that passage.