It was a high counsel that I once heard given to a young person, - 'Always do what you are afraid to do'
-Ralph Waldo Emerson-
Chagos to Madag...hang on....Mayotte
I don't want to leave Chagos. Aliisa is firmly attached to a solid lump of coral by a 10mm chain. After three and a bit months I feel quite at home. But we "have to go". The SE trade winds are getting well established and the forecast for the east coast of Madagascar in July - August is windy. If we get to Ile St. Marie (S17, E50) before the end of June, perhaps we can avoid the strongest winds. Everyone is warning us about going to such a place, even though the only people we met that have actually been there told it's a wonderful place. The rest talk about currents that push you ashore, large seas and 30kn+ winds.
On the 14 June 2005 I reluctantly pull up the anchor and we slip out to sea. The world is absurd. I find it difficult to visualise the ocean ahead and I feel that I went to bed in Chagos and suddenly woke up in the middle of the ocean. I suppose that's true too. Paula keeps popping sea sick tablets to get herself through the first couple of days. I secretly take one too, just in case. After a few days the weather turns squally and rainy.
One night I lift my head from the saloon bunk and call out to the cockpit: "Paula, are you allright?" The answer is negative. She is suffering from blackouts and her whole body is in pain. This is no sea sickness. Now, with the autopilot unable to handle a large swell, Paula unable to handle anything but lying down and myself on the helm, Madagascar starts to look like a bad destination.
We continue on our course and discuss our options. Seychelles - easy, Mauritius - into strong winds, Ile St. Marie - into strong winds with no medical facilities and finally Mayotte - longish trip but good medical care as well as all the yummy things in the shops. Apparently. Mayotte wins and we abandon the idea of going further south. The near-gale forecast further south reinforces the decicion, though I feel like a chicken. I'm disappointed for not pushing on. For the remaining two weeks we get battered by more squalls and get frustrated by winds that keep changing between 10kn and 25kn with the occasional 30-40kn blasts. Aliisa seems to enjoy the sailing but Paula and I both grow increasingly tired.
I only heard of Mayotte while talking to other yachties in Chagos. I remember overhearing a discussion that puzzled me greatly. "Have you been in my yacht" -someone asked the person sitting next to them. "Yes I have, but I didn't like it" -the other person replied. I was lost. I knew both of them and their yachts were perfectly beautiful. What an odd thing to ask anyway, "have you been in my yacht?". And why did the other guy not like the yacht? I didn't say anything but the next day I realised that they weren't talking about yachts at all. I went home, opened my world atlas and found "my yacht"....Mayotte!
My yacht in Mayotte. One of the dots across the harbour...
We are being directed by our Chagos friends to reach 12 deg. south as soon as possible and round the tip of Madagascar hugging the coast. (We later get questioned by yachts in Mayotte about such an odd practise. All other yachts seem to have sailed the rhum line, staying 50 odd miles off shore the rocky Madagacar coast.) The big seas, I guess, lie somewhere close to the northern cape where the west and north bound currents meet. We stick to the plan and aim within a hundred meters of the Eastern side of Madagascar, about 10 miles down from the northern tip. We greatly enjoy our half a day within a stone throw from the rocks, waving at the people ashore, sipping Dom Benedictine to celebrate our rounding of the tip. I know it's not really like rounding one of the Great Capes (Leeuwin, Horn, Good Hope etc.) but I like Dom Benedictine and any excuse will do.
Once we enter the western side of Madagascar, we lose the wind and end up motoring in dead calm for a day and a half to reach the island that I had barely heard of until a few months ago. Once we drop anchor in the harbour, 17 days out at sea, I insist on more Dom Benedictine. Unfortunately the days of Malaysian duty free are long gone and a replacement bottle is beyond our budget. We are in a spec of Europe, thrown into the Indian Ocean.
MAYOTTE
Welcome to France. We hoist up the tricolor and I brush up my french; Oui and Merci. (I know the word for number nine too, but never get to use it.) The anchorage is deep. Anything over 8m is deep for me. We find 12 on the sounder and I drop 40 meters of chain. The anchor holds well. Ten minutes later Hans from Mopepo infront of us delivers a bread, a tomato and a beer. Welcome to Mayotte.
Much to my surprise the currency is euro and not so much suprisingly the prices are high. But not until the second day. We haven't seen a shop for five months and on the first day everything is cheap. By nightfall, Aliisa's galley is filled with fresh crusty french bread, tomatoes, cheese, cold beer, pate and fresh butter.
You can do a lot of shopping on the street. Taking photos is hard though, people hate having a camera pointed at them, even from a distance.
My visa card has expired in Chagos and Paula pulls out some cash. Each day we find a bigger grocery store and each day the prices seem higher. A hundred euros runs out like sand between my fingers. The dirty streets are lined up with yellow clay hiding the faces of big black fat big-breasted women sitting behind their piles of oranges and lettuce. I say "bonjour" to everyone and some people reply politely, many of them looking at my dusty bare feet in disgust. African music is pouring out from large speakers on a top of a small car near the town centre.
We go to the hospital seeking a blood test and confirmation of Paula's condition. The staff only speaks "a little" english and spend most of the time talking to us in French. Paula replies in her casual Australian ("strain"). The French soon find their "a little" English useless. An off-duty doctor walks in and gets pulled in to help. He speaks quite good English and even understands some Australian. Paula loses some blood but when the results get back, the doctor thinks everything is normal and tells us not to worry. Not that worrying was ever the problem, just the symptoms. Anyway, Paula is feeling better.
I get news from my bank in Finland. The good news are that they can send me my new Visa card to replace the one that has expired. The bad news are that there are only 1500 euros left in my account.
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