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......