Tag Archives: Sea

Kupang to Dili: this sailing life

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head down, bottoms up – Keith inspects the anchor locker

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Dili street scene

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provisioning the boat with real food grown by real people, Kupang market

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main sail

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sailing Timor-Leste waters

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dragging the tinny down to the water, Kupang

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Voyage home: boat-hitching to Oz

All journeys eventually end in the same place, home.”
– Chris Geiger

Fletcher ship

The bank balance was telling us what neither of us wanted to believe: the journey was coming to an end. Time to think about heading home…

It had been an expensive few months: purchasing visas, long distance travel, a parcel home, new DJ equipment and a visit to Angkor Wat. 50 and 100 baht notes coursing through our fingers, flowing out like folded paper boats on an outgoing tide. And not just baht: riel, US dollars, Lao kip and renminbi: tiny slips of colored paper with embossed kings’ heads and national monuments – bound for other places, other peoples’ pockets. It was as it should be. Flowing out, flowing in.

Despite the recent bout of spending we were still proudly more or less on budget: roughly 140 pounds (AUD$200) p/week for the two of us – gas, food and lodgings. In this way, we’d managed 14 months of travel in 15 countries: by our standards, it was a triumph!

With less than one thousand pounds remaining we decided to turn all our energy toward what really matters: completing the journey overland from England to Australia without flying, at the least cost, maximum fun and adventure.

Problem = solution!

The answer was simple: boat hitch-hiking.

A friend of Richie’s had made the reverse journey a few years ago, travelling from Hobart to Bangkok, via New Caledonia, Vanuatu and the Soloman Islands: looking after children, scrubbing decks, cooking and keeping lookout. It was possible. It had been for her, and it would be for us.

We put out our feelers. Phuket and Langkawi sounded like the most probable destinations from which to hitch a ride. Our friend Bonnie, a seasoned sailor, recommended a number of crew-seeking websites, and Dad forwarded links to cargo ships plying the route from Singapore to Sydney. We ruled nothing out, piracy and people-smuggling included!

Today you can find us shacked up in old town Phuket, waiting for the tides to turn: haunting marinas, liaising with salty-dog sailers, eavesdropping on itinerant surfers, and taking advice from yacht-club veterans who have seen more than their fair share of vagrants and hopefuls board ship, bunker down, and sail home.

It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.”
– Ernest Hemingway

CREWAD 

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Port Life

Both my mother’s and father’s family have an intimate relationship with water. I share their love of the sea – so it was a great joy for me to be by the ocean in Essaouira, Morocco for a couple of weeks in February.

Richie and I arrived in Essaouira off the back of 3 hectic days in Meknes. Within a day or two of arriving we had imbedded ourselves in the local community: found some hole-in-the-wall places to eat and drink. Richie caught up on his Permaculture Diploma work and I took long walks on the beach.

During those walks I learned to put my head down and ignore the local touts whose aim it is to get your ass into their camel/horse’s saddle (all for a price): “Bonjour. Hello Madam. What are you thinking?”

When the state of the beach got me down (plastic everywhere) I wrote a letter to the council. The locals must have thought I was mad, trailing sacks of refuse behind me, tugging plastic bags and yoghurt pots from seagulls’ mouths. I became an angry walker! It didn’t stop me from enjoying the fresh air and the sand between my toes. I even considered having  a swim (I didn’t – sorry Aunty Zeny).

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