Welcome to Sudan

It was gray and damp out. We were mole-eyed and really didn't want to be up so early but we set off again. Our destination, Khor Nawarat, Sudan, Africa, 165 miles. Another overnighter. This time it was strange, very strange; it was unexpectedly relaxing, uneventful, and pleasant.

We started the day under gray skies and they sat overhead until late afternoon. Surprisingly, the wind piped up around noon and we sailed on a super comfortable beam to broad reach in one to two foot swells until about 9pm. It was really dark and we felt like we were ghosting along. We didn't see another boat for two days. We caught 6 fish, three fish each day, but sadly they were all barracuda. Barracuda often are known to have a toxic poisoning called "ciguatera" so even though we caught two small and one big one, three feet plus, each day, we returned them to the deep.

Small gray torpedo-shaped common dolphins jumped to join us numerous times through our one and a half day journey. They remind us of happy dogs, excited to see us, doing tricks and just as quickly happy to play somewhere else. They always put a smile on our faces.

And then we were here. Navigating the channel was straight forward. Our charts were still correct and the light was good. Wind was still pumping through from the E-SE so we dropped the hook off of a sandy, windswept scrubby island in this protected lagoon. It is calm here, wind but no swell, perfect for kiting if there is enough wind. Gar went out yesterday. Unfortunately, the wind was still a little light so he needed a rescue from the dinghy, but he had to give it a go. While we were waiting for the wind to pipe up we were visited by the military. All nice guys although a bit intimidating. They had a boat load of snapper and offered us one.

A good sign. So today we went spear fishing. We scouted a few reefs and finally found one close to the boat that had decent visibility and a lot of fish. We had found "fish town". Over 40 long-finned spadefish gracefully swam by. Surgeonfish bigger than your large fluffy housecat cruised in and out. We spotted two huge grouper, one as big as a fat sheep. Super cool and rare for us, 5 snubnose pompanos did three swimbys, their yellow tails and fins flashing at us. A huge lobster tap-danced under a rock while schools of snapper passed by. One was unlucky. Gar got his hunt on. Dinner tonight, barbecued snapper.

Just to remind you where we are, I will sign off with our most recent wildlife sighting, two camels on the beach. One of them belly deep in the sea.

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.

Back in the Game

"We're back in the game"
- Says Gar after catching a Spanish mackerel while sailing between islands under a blue-sky day. Andaman Islands, India

What game you might be asking? The game of life, of living the dream. Relaxed, bliss... We are feeling what many of you think we feel all of the time.
These last couple of days have been just that, the idyllic sailing dream of a life. The air smells like salt, the sky is a rare color of impossibly clear blue with cotton ball clouds floating by, fish are jumping beside the boat and no one is here. We are anchored in front of a deserted island with a stunning beach. The sand glows white, startling white and shells are strewn at the high tide line. The water lapping at her shores is the aqua blue of an island fantasy. Heat rolls off the beach carried by the wind, screaming the tropics. There is always fresh fish to eat and we are slowing down. We revel in this easy lazy life while we have it, snorkeling and spear fishing, reading novels, snacking on the last of the pineapple and the first of fresh sprouts. We are alone, naked at first and last light, sun kissed and glowing.

We awaken here again to savor our cups of hot goodness and slowly start our day. Searching for clear water we spot a large school of bumphead parrotfish feasting upon the corals in the shallows. Large schools of snapper swim lazily past. I spot my favorite long beaked filefish, an orange an aqua cutie that usually travels in pairs and makes me smile. A snapper becomes dinner and we return to the boat with the wind carrying the stifling heat from our home and wind generator slowly trickling juice into our batteries. I am content for now to swim, read and watch this world, savoring it today.

I may shatter your dream and tell you honestly that we were out here in the Andaman Islands for over a week and this is the first time we have felt this way. You see, we came from Thailand on a rough and uncomfortable passage, tired and antsy. Knowing we had a to do list that was longer than it was shorter: dreading the varnish we had to do and the leaky portholes that we crossed our fingers we could repair, along with the engine maintenance, fixing the water tank venting system again, fixing the autopilot wiring again, doing loads of hand wash and hauling the water to do it. All days are not lazy or dreamy on Dreamkeeper. Unfortunately we've had a lot of rolly sleepless nights even at anchor out here and everything always takes three or four times longer than expected and nothing is ever fixed forever.

But it's all part of the game. It's now days later and we've left the islands behind. We've caught a total of four fish in the Andamans; these are our first since April last year. Gar speared a snapper and a grouper, then we caught the two and a half foot Spanish mackerel, and on our way back to Port Blair we landed a 4 plus foot 45-50 lb wahoo. Our freezer is full and our fishing luck has changed.

I wanted to share a few unique things that occur during the days of our lives. Where else does the Coast Guard call just to say hello, to see if we needed anything and ask if we remembered him? Not only that but we were given emergency numbers and email addresses for the Indian Coast Guard with directions to call them anywhere in Indian waters all the way until we reach the Maldives for any emergency or help we may need. You may think it's a bit creepy that we have to report our position and intended movement twice a day or that the Indian Navy has done three fly-byes in ten days but once we got used to it we decided they were taking care of us and watching their backs.

It's not so simple trying to anchor in Port Blair though. The first time when we entered the harbor we were dropping our sail when Port control called and repeated we could not anchor in the position we were in. We patiently tried to explain we were "dropping the sail". Something got lost in translation but in the end after explaining we were taking down the sail in as many ways as possible the controller understood and told us to proceed to the anchorage. On our return from the islands, while we're trying to drop the hook Port Control called asking us if we have anchored. We are sure they can see us out their window with me on deck dropping the anchor. What can we do but smile? Maybe it's the head wiggle, the smile in their eyes and the accent. I don't know but it makes me smile. The people here are so endearing we don't feel like big brother is watching us when we call for our final time to give our anchoring position and itinerary plan to remain in Port Blair until check out.

Now that we're back and my idyllic sailing dream has been transformed again into the logistics of life. We are again playing the game. Whether it is peaceful and beautiful or busy and challenging. We've added more to our list and it's almost checked off. Yesterday we took the day to site see in Port Blair. We visited the anthropological museum, the infamous cellular jail (where the Bristish held all of the prominent Indian men who threatened their rule), a rubber plantation, a scientist research station and the countryside. Long shadows spread across the fields as women in red saris took their cows home. My belly is still full of butter paneer, chicken masala, vegi briani, chapattis, and chai tea. My spirit is happy having communicated with women and children with whom the only common language we shared were smiles. And I feel so grateful to our new friend, Ravi, the agent who isn't an agent, for taking such good care of us.

This morning dawned blue and we began checking off our final to-do list at 6 am. Another two loads of hand wash are hanging on the lines drying, Gar is running around town checking out with the port officials, a quiche is baked, bread is rising, 60 eggs are washed and stowed, fresh cinnamon sticks are drying in the sun, garbanzo beans are soaking and fish soup is being prepped. I am making my list for the rest of the freshies we will buy before departure and hopeful Gar is almost done with the run around. We will scoot around town again stopping again and again at the best and (cheapest) places Ravi knows for bruja mix, yogurt, fresh paneer cheese, the fruit market, the vegi market, the samosa stand, and the bakery for anything else we might desire.

Another first; I usually love when this happens but not so much today. It is the first time I have ever shopped and purchased potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, limes, spinach, green beans, onions, garlic, ginger, carrots, eggplants, cucumbers and curry leaves, cilantro and mint (or anything for that matter) from under the sticky feet of cockroaches and the darting eyes of mice in broad daylight. It took all my will actually buy the freshest of the fresh these little pests have been roaming over. Don't worry (mom) I washed each any every one of my 50 limes, 25 potatoes, 8 cucumber, and 30 tomatoes with bleach. I just hope the little sneaky roaches didn't hitchhike back on to DreamKeeper somehow. Don't think I can wash the 12 heads of garlic or the 22 red onions if they're going to keep a month or longer.

Departure tomorrow is scheduled for 0800 hours. We'll be at the dock with passports in hand to meet immigration for our departure stamps and Ravi for our delivery of freshly roasted tandoori chicken at 0600. We'll give hugs, receive our last head wiggles and be on our way across the Indian Ocean. Maldives here we come. We're back in the game.