Sailing south with the dhows of Madagascar

Got to love a lemur with a face like this

Time flies! The blog has been neglected and as a result this one is so long you will need a suitable refreshment to get you through it.

When we last left off we were exploring the joys of Nosy Be, Madagascar. The island of Nosy Be and its surrounds is the most popular tourist area in Madagascar and there’s more than enough to keep a visitor entertained.

With last minute wind changes having spoilt our hopes of visiting Comoros before arriving in Madagascar we had plenty of time on our hands and indeed found ourselves ahead of sailing friends coming from the Seychelles and Reunion. Sailing into a new bay we were surprised and delighted to find friends Bill and Sue on their yacht Camomile having recently arrived from Mayotte. Camomile are one of the characters of the Indian Ocean crossing this year. Many refer to Sue as the mum of the fleet as she has that wonderful motherly factor and we all love her for it. In fact Sue probably produces our favourite Facebook updates posting about things like getting excited about the fast washing machines she found in Mayotte or using a day in a hotel in the Maldives to do some hand washing. Camomile also write honest blogs which we appreciate in an age of too many “amazing”, “life is perfect” blogs. It was only a one night catch-up but lovely to see them again.

We love you Fausta!

In Nosy Be we had become good friends with Mauro and Fausta, a fabulous and outgoing Italian couple who have a holiday home in Nosy Be. While we kept trying to leave Nosy Be they kept coming up with new ideas to hold us there: “Why do you want to leave? Come on… I tell you what we can do…” We just loved their enthusiasm and all-embracing nature. So yet again we found ourselves ‘stuck’ anchored near the island of Sakatia as they entertained us, looked after us, ferried us around and were just all round good eggs. Finally we insisted we had to move on but not before they hosted a final dinner with friends at their beautiful home. Mauro, Fausta – grazie mille, for sure we will host you in London.

Next stop, Russian Bay. A popular cruiser hang out and rightly so. A local man who speaks English offers guided walks and sailing trips on his dhow with lunch prepared by his wife. Further along the beach an Austrian has made Russian Bay his home and welcomes cruisers with meals and warm beers. The easy life, it’s very relaxing.

Mauro and daughter Carolina, effortless hosts

For us it was time to head south. The truth is we know how easily you can get stuck in these cruiser hubs – it’s fun, it’s easy, it’s wonderfully social. But we’ve always said we’re on this trip to see things, we have one shot at this, exploring is our priority. So we headed on, the first pit stop an island full of four different species of lemurs. A guided walk with a man calling out to them, us with fruit. It’s glorious fun as the lemurs come out of the trees and climb all over you. Some may argue it’s not the best conservation taming wild animals but done in the right way, it helps the bigger picture.

We sailed on and deep into Baramahamay River, named Honey River or Honey Pot by cruisers. It’s not long before someone paddles out selling honey and crabs. Unfiltered honey, cheap as chips and rather tasty. Damn expensive crabs, they clearly see us as cash cows and good old haggling in a friendly manner helps. We look for things to do and run into a lady who says she can row us in her little pirogue (boat/wooden canoe) to visit a village further downstream. Looking at the size of her pirogue we are both a little sceptical. “Expect the unexpected” has always been our motto.

Tom plays ball with the kids trying to relive his own youth

The next day she turns up with her husband, son and a much bigger sailing pirogue much to our relief. We sail past mangroves and up into the mainland and walk into a village. The village is a collection of thatched huts, red/brown soil, and people going around doing chores or simply watching life go by. Kids, happily filthy as can be in tattered clothes, run around and play. Part of it is incredibly humbling, we know all too well we are lucky to lead a privileged life, people here have so little. Yet they don’t go around long-faced, they deal with the deck of cards life has dealt them. Kids watch us from a distance peering around a corner. There’s always one little brave one and we always bring things hoping to get a smile, hoping it breaks the ice. A simple tennis ball is treasured. Eyes light up and a smile beams through, a “Merci” and the ball is gripped tightly. Time for some fun. Tom throws the ball for a game of catch. More kids join in, lining up trying to catch it, jumping here and there, laughing at each other. They are not having half the fun we are.

Our next stop was a small island called Kalakajoro. White sand, swimming, relaxing, walking. In between our trips ashore we are fast planning our visits to South Africa and England. In South Africa we will visit Tom’s father and sister before flying home to England for a whistle stop tour to celebrate Susie’s father’s 70^th birthday. We’re working on a detailed plan of morning, afternoon and night activities. Our minds are already there, we want to be there now.

Susie and a skinny friendly baobab tree

Off to Bergomaina Point, a small muddy bay. When we arrive in many of the places we’ve been we wonder why others who have been before get excited. These aren’t places tourism is dished up on a plate, you need to get out and explore, take your time. We’ve learnt the Malagasy word for walk is “changa changa”. An easy walk here with a local takes us up to a high point with beautiful views out to sea. Alicia and Alfredo on their yacht On Verra join us in the anchorage. We like them, they love to explore and they love to walk – seriously walk. The trick is there aren’t any set paths here, they are all walking paths for people to get between villages. Often we end up traipsing through the bush trying to find a path and legs full of scratches are inevitable.

Leaving Bergomaina Point we start to find more wind. Madagascar has daily land and sea breezes that mean the winds blow in completely different directions at different times of day and finding an all-round sheltered anchorage is not easy. So during the day we visit the offshore islands and then for the evening when strong breezes blow offshore we use satellite images to find good spots to tuck into on the coast. We can’t think of any country that has had better holding for our anchor – thick rich mud everywhere. Although lifting the anchor means the chain and anchor need a good clean every time and we count our blessings Adina has an anchor hose. We cherish these offshore islands, our last islands with white beaches and blue seas – it’s the last time we will be swimming at one of these for a long time.

Madagascar beaches – all you could want

We had heard good things about Moramba Bay and had planned to stop at least a week. Another place to get out and explore, one of those places it takes time to appreciate. Strong winds are forecast so we look at where we can find shelter, we pick an island and take our dinghy to check the depths. We use a thin line with a heavy lead tied to the end and make records. The depths are good so we move. The winds deliver and blow strong but the anchor is set and we stay put.

Early one morning Tom is on deck when he sees a dhow flying along and ducks below to get the binoculars. Coming up the naked eyes show things are a little amiss – it’s almost like the dhow is beneath a wave, the hull can’t be seen, odd. The binoculars reveal the truth, the hull is indeed beneath the water, it’s hit a submerged rock. As fast as we can we launch our dingy and head off. The dhow has not sunk but the people are in the water or standing on the submerged hull, the wind is blowing, the water is choppy and they are drifting in the strong currents. We take onboard immediately the one solitary female already shivering and everyone’s personal belongings. Another dhow stops to help and we ferry as much over as we can. With all the choppy water our dinghy is getting full of water and starting to struggle – we have to ask the dhow for a water scoop. The people on the submerged dhow are trying to save everything, we ferry across broken bits of dhow. It’s clear the sail is treasured and they haul it to the rescue dhow. There’s not much more we can do, we’ve drifted a long way from Adina and simply thank our lucky stars that in our hurry to help we thought to bring an extra can of fuel.

We saw this Sifaka lemur with its baby many times

Once the winds calm we move close to the mainland. On shore are wild Sifaka lemurs; we spend ages watching them over several days, absorbed by their behaviour. Spring is coming and the new buds make a tasty meal. Our favourite is when the Sifaka bound along the ground holding their arms high up to help them balance, it’s a peculiar sight and makes us smile broadly. In the trees they effortlessly swing from branch to branch.

Everywhere we look are big fat Baobab trees with their branches looking like the roots of a tree jutting naked high into the air. Susie describes them aptly as the friendly trees, always waving. They just need smiley faces.

More and more people come out to the boat to trade. People bring crabs, lobster, eggs, a few vegetables, honey comb and, best of all, prawns. Moramba Bay has nice big juicy prawns; we take any that are bought to the boat and indulge. Everyone is friendly and gentle. They lack so much and we try our best to help with what we can. Adina needs a clear out so why not!

As we walk and explore the islands we’re playing a new game. Back home in England we will visit friends and many of them now have children. So it’s time to ensure we know the names. Susie asks, “Chris and Kath?”; I reply “Two children, one girl, one boy, two Gs, Grace and George.” “Correct! Now, Neil and Hallie?” “Ahh – more tough – Amelia and Lorreliss?” “It’s Lorelei. Close!” We hope our friends similarly are making mental notes and checking up on the website “Name three countries they have visited this year”. “Where is their boat now?”

Fresh crab (still alive!)

Our next stop is the city of Majunga/Mahajunga. Nearly ten years back Majunga/Mahajunga became notorious with cruisers due to a couple being attacked while at anchor there. With cruisers these things live long in the memory, and rightly so; common sense tells you if you want to attract visitors you need to welcome them not attack them. But the flip-side is that these things can be isolated, the minority can ruin it for the majority. You need to check. Time and things change. Ascertain the facts. And that is what we try to do; we ask questions on Facebook, we e-mail cruisers who have been before. We learnt Chinese whispers are just that – many people said to us it’s a bad place to visit, you shouldn’t go there. When we asked those people if they had been, their response was “No!” Way back when we planned to sail to Algeria we were told we were mad; we did our homework, we went, we had the time of our lives. But we never take it for granted, we aren’t smug, we prepare, we go to great lengths to make sure we are safe. And of course we still get a little nervous. But we also have a motto that if the real facts stack up, forget the whispers, go check it out for yourself.

Enjoying a fast passage we find we can make Majunga/Mahajunga in a day, not two as planned. Alas, the wind dies at the end of the day so we scurry to find if we can safely anchor just after nightfall. We can – we anchor in a village opposite Majunga/Mahajunga called Kalepsy. When you anchor the first twenty-four hours can be nervy; the focus is on the boat – are we safe, is the anchor holding, what is the wind doing, do we risk dragging, what are the people ashore like? Just imagine uprooting your home and depositing the whole thing in some completely random place in a remote country. You’d also get up at 2am to check your home hasn’t moved.

Susie catches a ride in a pirogue

And we want a weather window to get to South Africa safely and it’s not happening right now. Sleep, what’s that?

Daylight arrives, there are strong currents, wind against tide, our home is being rocked but she is not moving an inch. Ok, let’s go meet the locals. In the afternoon we get in the dinghy, and remind ourselves of our motto ‘expect the unexpected’. There are small waves on the shore and falling out of the dingy in the waves is how not to impress so thank you the Seychelles for teaching us how to drive our dinghy onto the beach; we throttle fast and run the dinghy up the beach, jump out and pretend like we do this each day but in our minds going “Thank goodness that worked!”, or words to that effect.

“Bolatsara!” (Hello!) We call it out to each and every person, hoping it will break the ice. In Madagascar more than any other country we’ve learnt the value of learning some of the local language. It really draws appreciation here, they smile, laugh and it makes friends. The odd person even thinks we can speak Malagasy and starts chatting and our blank eyes and polite smiles disappoint. We are no more than tourists and we revert to French.

How the anchor looks after a few days in Madagascar mud

We wonder around Kaletpsy. One horse town, the Wild West, the real Wild West. It’s a transit point to take a ferry across to the main town of Majunga/Mahajunga and all sorts of people and produce from the south arrive here. They come in trucks piled high. About fifty pigs lie on the beach, we can’t work out if it’s a mass delivery or someone running a business. A slaughtered pig appears and gets loaded into a ferry boat. The ferry boats are loaded with people: “Excuse me, please don’t stand on my pig.” We wonder around and venture into in a local beachfront bar busy with locals consuming the amber nectar. Seize the day, Margaret! The local beer is called Three Horse Beer and Susie pipes up, “Here’s to a Three Horse Beer in a one horse town”. We love it, we watch the colourful flavour of the town, people come up and talk to us, some are sober, some are decidedly not, all have one thing in common – they are smiling.

So the next day we head to the ‘evil’ Majunga/Mahajunga and tuck into the port. Port Control come over, they are very friendly, check our papers and then tell us where to anchor to be out of the way of shipping traffic and to be safe and secure. Over the next few days we stock up, treat ourselves to a good meal and check out. A highlight is the daily departure and arrival of dhows sailing in and out – early in the morning, they are everywhere, it’s like being anchored in the middle of a sail regatta. Many sail close to us waving happily away, it’s a sight we shall never forget. Checking out the police and port officer are friendly and incredibly professional. We are left very impressed.

Sailing dhows in Majunga

We’ve enjoyed the journey south, we take away fond memories of many things – lemurs, friendly Baobab trees, smiling people and best of all the fabulous sailing dhows.

We’re now tucked nicely into a sheltered bay, waiting for a weather window to South Africa. Big passage coming up, we need a big shiny window please! We like to move it, move it – move it! Sorry…