More Surprises

On our second night at Shuma Island, in that moment after the golden globe sinks beneath the horizon and the sky turns deep blue before the curtain of night falls we heard voices. Loud unmistakably foreign human voices. They were disturbingly close. The two tourist boats had departed in the morning and we thought we had Shuma Island to ourselves. Peering out our galley porthole we could see a big wooden dhow, heavy with passengers. The battered boat putted close to DK and men yelled, leaving us with nothing to do but respond. Gar, quickly, removed his sarong (almost like a skirt) and changed into some shorts (perhaps trying to puff up into a more manly specimen).

Our practice is to welcome strangers with greetings and friendly waves. Tonight was no different even though we were sorely and uncomfortably out numbered. As I pressed slunk into the corner of the galley and peered through the porthole between Gar's legs I counted about thirty men. We had heard about gun smuggling and human trafficking between Eritrea and Yemen and this definitely was no fishing boat. The guys waved back and shouted in Arabic. It is in these times I wish I was fluent in every language of every region we travel through. We resorted to charades and they wasted no time in clearly making the universal sign asking for food. Being outnumbered, we got some of our best stores to bring them. I threw a bag of rice, some mangoes, three rolls of biscuits (cookies for you Americans), and a box of cigarettes in a plastic bag for good measure. Gar handed over the delivery to the guys who were clearly in charge. They looked over the stores and asked for salsa, (universal language here too, tomatoes with something hot). Not wanting trouble and feeling it much easier to give them food and hopefully make them happy I threw together a second bag of goodies. Three big tomatoes, two onions, 5 limes, a head of garlic and spicy canned chipolte chilis. With this one, they were what seemed like happily satisfied and one of the guys who spoke a handful of English explained they were going to Yemen tomorrow at 6am. He also invited Gar to visit them on the beach.

When they swung their boat towards shore , I waved from the cockpit. Smiling, I was met with thirty reciprocal waves and smiling faces. We heaved a sigh of relief as they putted to the beach where we assumed they would spend the night. Our hearts were beating loudly in our chests, but it was dark, there was no where nearby we could sail to and they seemed friendly. So... we settled back into our evening and crunched on nachos, with an ear out for the return of our new friends. Surprisingly, as the stars were blinking across the sky and we began to relax we heard the unmistakable put put of the dhow's smoky engine, very close yet again. Little lights blinked on and off as the men spoke to one another rapidly in Arabic. "At least they aren't trying to be sneaky," we whispered to each other as we again stood post at the galley porthole. Shockingly, they dropped anchor less than a boat length away. Way too close.

It was an easy swim to our boat from theirs and we had a stern line out. We talked in hurried whispers the strain in our voices rising when we realized there was no choice but to ask them to move. They were bedding down for the night but at least we had an excuse, the stern line. Gar again slipped on his shorts and armed with a spotlight and a smile yelled across the narrow space between us. "Hello my friends, hello. You must move." No response. "Please my friends go go." Shit, we wish we could speak Arabic. And then he remembered the stern line, "You see anchor, we have an anchor" and he shined the spotlight on our stern anchor. "Anchor, anchor," they replied and slowly turned on their engine. We sighed with relief as they put put putted three boat lengths away and dropped their anchor again.

In reflection it is really pretty cute. We think they just wanted to anchor close to us. We've heard stories of trucks camped in a huge desert and then more vehicles will come and camp beside them even though there is an entire desert for the taking. Perhaps it was the same with our lagoon. We fell asleep last night secure in our safety. We woke only once, at 6am to wave our friends goodbye.

Again we were alone. The morning looked promising, shades of baby blue hinted at a clear day as the morning layer burned off. The wind died and for the first time we could see the sandy bottom below. By 10 am the sun was high and we were ready for another adventure. We squeezed into our neoprene tops and plunged into the shallow water. Cruising slowly with the current we were shocked to see relatively healthy coral gardens in 1-4 meters of water with a little algal growth and some crown of thorns damage, but mostly intact reef. Immediately upon entering the water Gar spotted two giant barracuda 1-1.5 meters long. Their tails waved back and forth. Three giant trevally came in for a look. A turtle spooked beneath us and a huge spotted eagle ray flew by. The reef fish exploded with color. We were seeing so many new species of fish, we spit our snorkels out every few minutes to ask if each had seen the angle fish with the yellow band or the sweet lips with the butter yellow body and brownish freckles, what about the brown parrot fish with blue lipstick? We swam over a huge stingray and were gratefully surprised to see two juvenile 1 meter black tipped sharks cruising by. What a happy surprise, we weren't even in waters renowned for their healthy reefs.

At 7am this morning (March 21) we bade farewell to Shuma Island and the two cruising boats that pulled in yesterday and headed to our current anchorage Sheikh al Abu, 45 miles to the north. It was a little eerie out here as the sky was heavy with clouds, so thick we couldn't tell what time it was. We spotted low flat, sandy islands specking the horizon in strange random looking patterns. The wind came from the North to North East and then shifted directly north on our nose. Hundreds of small tuna leapt out of the water, feasting on small fish. Flocks of terns and boobies followed the schools of fish, feasting themselves along the way.

Our game is on again. We caught three fish today. A small barracuda and small skip jack both of which we returned to live another day. Sadly, our last fish was no so lucky. It looked to be a good sized tuna. But when we reeled in the handline we were shocked to see merely a head and a third of its tattered body. The rest had been chomped off within minutes by a shark. We scrambled to get the tuna off the lure before the shark took it as well as our precious lure. Surprisingly the fish was still alive. We returned what was left of its wounded self to the deep as an offering to the sharks that we are so grateful still reside in these waters.

Into the Red Sea

As dawn's first light illuminated the horizon, DK gracefully carried us into the gateway of another world. The wind was light for these parts at only 20 knots, and the seas only 1 meter, as we speedily approached the busy shipping channel under a port tack broad reach. We turned to starboard and slipped along the restricted zone of Yemen's Perim Island before committing to crossing the shipping channel to the northwest. We were now officially sailing through the infamous, "Straits of Bab el Mandeb", often referred to as the "Gate of Sorrows" or "Gate of Tears", the very narrow section of water that joins the Red Sea to the Gulf of Aden. Winds often funnel through this area at 30-50 knots and if the current is against the wind, huge standing waves can be common. We have heard that sunrise is the best time to transit the Strait, and so we find ourselves luckily crossing the shipping channel with only 20-25 knots of wind at our back, a favorable 1 knot current, and a dreamy African sunrise.

We are now officially out of the Indian Ocean and into the Red Sea!

We left Aden, Yemen, yesterday at about 1 p.m (March 15). Aden turned out to be mixed blessing for us. The people and the culture we experienced there were amazing. Yemen now ranks up there with having the most genuine welcoming and friendly people we have met anywhere. That says a lot considering all the places we have been on this journey. The history of the land and the culture there are a huge piece of the history of mankind and this is one place we really felt like we were truly "in another world". Yemen is definitely high on the list as a place I would return to for an adventurous 'off the boat' travel experience someday.

The reason, however, Yemen was a mixed blessing is because we were both mentally exhausted from our convoy experience and our boat projects were long and grueling. I had my worst filling diesel experience ever there, my worst engine sea water impeller change, and after almost 12 hours of energy attempting to fix our KISS wind generator, it still doesn't work. Then there was the VHF issues and the autopilot issues, a loud nightclub directly in front of our boat that blasted Yemeni music until 5 in the morning when the hundreds of "call to prayers" from the mosques start up to bring in the new day. We still did our best to have a balance of seeing Aden, taking care of business, as well as mentally recovering for our next leg

The first day coming through the Straits of Bab El Mandeb we rode the winds and waves throughout the day and night further north along the coast of Eritrea, a small country directly to the east of Ethiopia. As the morning turned into mid-day the winds and seas had built pushing from behind at 30-35+ knots and 2+ meter seas. We were making some of our fastest speeds on DK yet, surfing the waves with just a double-reefed main at 8-10 knots and feeling totally comfortable. Dolphins greeted us in the afternoon and once again exhibited their love for surfing as we watched 5-8 at a time elegantly riding the 6-8 foot backlit breaking waves right behind our stern.

We sailed on into the night enjoying the strong breeze and appreciating the fact that even though there were some other sailboats not far away, we were on our own and not accountable to anyone else again. Delta One was liberated.

The next day (March 17) the winds mellowed and we ended up having to motor-sail to make it to our intended anchorage in Howakil Bay before dark. As we neared the group of islands around Umm Es Sahrig in Howakil Bay, our intended desert island anchorage, the sea became alive. Flocks of thousands of boobies and terns spun circles around us and our fishing lures, huge schools of fish leapt and splashed on the waters edge, and large chalky-colored jellyfish pulsed underneath the surface. We haven't seen so many seabirds since the west coast of Mexico and big smiles came over our faces. We were loving it and all the stress and frustration of the last few weeks slipped away.

We dropped our hook in sand in the lee of the small limestone desert island in 20+ knots of wind, but with almost no swell, cracked open a cold beer and melted into our new world.

The next day (March 18) we were off at sunrise with the destination of a place called Shumma Island, about 45 miles north, which we had read is a beautiful spot. The lures were put out, earl gray tea in hand, and the day had begun. It wasn't 30 minutes later that I looked back to see us dragging a fish. It must not be too big, I thought, poor little guy. We slowed the boat down and brought our hand-line in until I had the fish next to the boat, gaff in hand. What first I thought was a mahi mahi, turned out to be something altogether new and different. It had the general shape and head of a mahi, but with a cool strange spotty pattern, and fins like a tuna. It was also pretty big; a few feet long and maybe 20 lbs. or so. We weren't sure what it was and decided not to keep it as we didn't want to kill it if we didn't even like the taste of the meat. I reached down and wiggled our flashy spoon lure out of it's lip and it slipped away into the depths to live another day.

The wind died and changed directions to 5 knots to the NE and we motor-sailed along all day once again enchanted by the thousands of seabirds and huge schools of bait fish. It was early afternoon and Nicole was busily doing sink-full after sink-full of handwash, since our engine and watermaker were constantly on, when I noticed a large shape on the water's surface just 30 feet away. I yelled to Nicole and she hustled up to the cockpit just in time to see a huge neck and shell break the sea's surface. We could see it perfectly, our first ever endangered Leatherback Sea Turtle! All of you who know Nicole can imagine her excited response when she becomes ecstatic with joy over something she cares so much about. She made me smile for hours.

As we approached the narrow pass through the coral reef to enter the protected lagoon of Shumma Island, another fish hit. Nic and I were both winding our hand-lines back in when all of a sudden Nic yelled and I looked at her face intense with concentration and arm muscles flexed fighting to hang onto the hand-line plastic spool. Only 25 feet out or so while she was reeling in the lure a tuna hit. Carefully she passed me the spool and I tied it off as a back-up before starting to hand over hand the line in along our starboard beam. I gaffed the tuna and pulled it onboard as Nic took some photos. It was a perfectly-sized 15 pound skipjack tuna, a fish which we hadn't caught in ages.

We slipped in thru the pass easily in good afternoon light, with Nicole high in the spreaders looking for shallow coral, and dropped our hook in the lagoon of Shumma Island. Two other boats were anchored not far way, at first we thought they were fishing boats, but later we saw they were actually tourist boats from nearby Massawa, Eritrea, doing an overnight trip camping along the shore. Tourist boats from Eritrea?? We were kind of shocked on that one.

We were stoked. Dolphins swam by at dusk as the golden globe sank into the mainland of Africa only 20 miles away. We enjoyed a peaceful evening under the stars eating some freshly caught tuna.

It's now March 19th and we are still anchored at Shumma Island. Last night the NW winds picked up (we knew they were coming) and a swell entered the lagoon (but we didn't expect that). DK rolled from side to side most of the night and we barely slept. Groggily we woke and had a light brekkie and tea before taking super dingy to shore for our first walk on African soil.

The land is limestone, filled with embedded fossils and huge shells lie scattered all over the scrubby surface. Big umbrella-like desert trees dot the land and thorny bushes and shrubs grow through barren substrate. The air is hot and the sky is desert-hazy. There are animal droppings everywhere: donkey? camel? goat? We're not sure, but it looks like there are definitely four-footed creatures tromping around somewhere on this 2 mile diameter low-lying island.

We walk the sandy beaches and find a hermit crab convention and heaps of seaweed at the water's edge. The big discovery of the day are the beautiful "venus comb" shells, brittle, barbed, and gorgeous, only to be found in Africa. We find many of them, but most of them with a resident. One is vacant and Nicole is ecstatic.

After our walk we put DK's stern anchor out to keep our bow pointing into the swell so we can actually sleep tonight. The tourist boats leave and we find ourselves all alone. Nic made a big egg and potato brunch and now we are catching up on our writing, enjoying the tranquility of this new place and extremely excited for the next Red Sea adventures to come.