Galle, Sri Lanka to Port Ghalib Egypt

Lisanne left Galle in Sri Lanka a couple of days before us, so our passage
was just in company with Miss Tiggy. It was 450NM and took three days (and
nights). Amazing how similar these Oyster 575s are - we arrived in Uligamu
in the very north of the Maldives just 1.5 hours before Miss Tiggy. We saw
lots of shipping round the south of India: it's always entertaining to check
out on AIS where each ship is from, where it's bound for and its dimensions
(huge!) and speed. Activities on board: fishing (unsuccessfully), sewing
alterations to a dress of Tiggy's, baking (bread and oatmeal raisin cookies)
and stainless steel polishing. At 0900 on 10th March we spied
Gaamathikulhudhoo to port and realised names in the Maldives were going to
be just as challenging as those in Sri Lanka. We dropped anchor in Uligamu
and were welcomed ashore for supper on the quayside, together with a German
family sailing round the world with their two boys aged 4 and 5 - now that's
a real challenge! In the morning we swam with manta rays, up close and
curious about us.

The Maldive atolls are gorgeous and reminded us of the Tuamotus, except that
they have been developed so thoroughly that it's hard to find a space which
isn't covered in resorts, with their little thatched huts on stilts. These

Ready for collection by Four Seasons room service

unfriendly resorts don't welcome outsiders, even those very few arriving on
yachts, and trying to have dinner ashore was like trying to hitch a ride on
a cruise ship - impossible. Most wouldn't allow us to anchor in their
"private" lagoons and we struggled to find anchorages as the sea bottom goes
from too deep to nothing very steeply. We attempted to stop at
Vaikaramuraidhoo (another challenging name) but couldn't get the hook to
stick. However at Dhandoo we found a beautiful spot, next to a narrow sandy

Tiggy and Kurt at beach BBQ

beach. Kurt spent a couple of hours picking up rubbish and created a
sizeable heap. He contacted the Four Seasons resort nearby and they
promised to collect and dispose of it all - result! Together with Lisanne
and Miss Tiggy, we had a great beach barbecue and the following day we
filmed our video contribution for the Oyster World Rally's closing party in
Antigua, including a rousing (if not tuneful) rendition of True Blue. We
also had two very good dives with a local company which is not attached to a
resort.

Male, the Maldives capital, has been linked since our charts were printed by
a bridge to Hulhamale, where we anchored amidst many power boats and their
ancillary dive boats. Sea planes passed so close overhead that we feared
for our mast and were able to inspect their undercarriage in detail -
interesting to see that most have only one float and land on water at a
steep angle. Hulhamale is growing as land is reclaimed and there was a
constant stream of barges carrying rubble past our boat. The town has wide
new roads (but no pedestrian pavements at all) and is covered in cranes with
high rise apartments going up everywhere. We're not sure why and for whom.
Still, Charles had a haircut, Nicky a pedicure and Kurt bought some tee
shirts and we stocked up on food at the market and supermarket. One evening,
looking for nightlife, we went to the only place serving alcohol. The taxi
took us to the airport and we had to walk half a mile from there to a grotty
hotel bar. Ah, but the beer tasted delicious.

Customs inefficiency (a consignment of weapons had been left at the airport)
meant we didn't get away from Male until 10pm on 18th March, after taking on
board Danny and John, two ex Royal Marines who were to keep us safe on the
next leg of our journey. They have been through the dangerous Gulf of Aden
dozens of times, but usually keep watch from 13 storeys up on a bridge 50
metres wide, on Hapag or similar container or cargo ships. This was a new
experience for them and they handled it well, keen to join in and help hoist
the asymmetric sail, set the pole or simply trim sails ("pull the red one"
was the kind of instruction required). They were eager to wash up and very
appreciative of the cooking, especially when it was traditional and English
(apple crumble, bananas and custard)! With two extra crew doing a watch
each, we got more sleep, though daytimes still usually found one or two
people slumped asleep in the saloon - John was a master of grabbing 40 winks
whenever he could. Danny, despite not eating fish, developed a passion for
trying to catch it, but was daily disappointed, apart from a baby tuna which
we released more or less intentionally. Miss Tiggy and Lisanne had Polish
guards on board, some of whom suffered from seasickness; fortunately that
wasn't a problem for us.

At night, we sailed in arrow formation, with Calliope leading as Danny was
in charge. We had some excellent sailing, maintaining 9 knots of boat speed
for hours on end on a beam reach, making 780NM in 4 days which is just
faster than our Torres Straits passage. Then, eight days out, the wind
failed, we started the engine but the following morning it started
stuttering. So we thought we might need to head for Salalah in Oman, and
find or fly out an engineer to fix it. After emails and phone calls with
helpful Dylan from New Zealand, it turned out Charles had failed to tighten
the fuel filter sufficiently last time he had changed it and it had worked
loose so the engine was drawing in air.

On day 10, we entered the IRTC or Internationally Recommended Transit
Corridor. Between the two channels is a wide strip (all imaginary of
course, just lines on a chart) like the central reservation on a dual
carriageway road. Our entry and crossing to the middle was a bit like a
hedgehog deciding it likes the look of the middle of the M25 and required
careful timing. Once there, we had huge ships on either side of us and a
Japanese air force plane which buzzed us daily to check all was well and to
advise us to call Coalition Warships on channel 16 if we saw anything
untoward. We didn't, and even felt so relaxed we stopped briefly for a
swim. That was a first for Danny and John - a dip in the IRTC!

IRTC dodging ships

The wind died completely and as we motored on, calculations were made of how
much fuel we needed and had left. Might we have to stop in Djibouti - very
expensive if you have weapons on board? Fortunately the wind came up again -
and as we turned the 'elbow' of the Bab el Mandeb it built to a top speed of
45 knots (Force 9). Even with a pocket handkerchief of sail, we were
flying; our top speed over ground was 16.7 knots, a record for Calliope. It
wasn't comfortable, crashing into waves, and there were some hair-raising

Lucky the Bear in body armour

moments including a carefully executed gybe in 40 knots. We were all pretty exhausted (and Danny and John were wondering why on earth they'd agreed to this contract, I think) as we then had to make to windward to avoid the lee shore of some islands, with the boat heeled at ridiculous angles - a real challenge to use the heads, take a shower or prepare food in the galley. On the plus side, the weather acted as a deterrent to flimsy skiffs with Somali pirates and we saw not a single one.

Nicky and Lucky in body armour

On 2nd April, 16 days out after a long slog into northerlies (the wind in the Red Sea turns to northerlies at this time of year) we motored alongside the James Cook, a scruffy-looking
ship anchored at 17 degrees North, and a RIB came out to collect Danny, John, all our flak jackets and helmets (unused), the weapons (only fired once as a test) and a large box of ammunition. The following day, we saw
breaking reefs and land - Sudan. We anchored at Khor Narawat, a bay with a very dusty shore and dusty mountains visible in the distance, and after a well-earned and anticipated beer/wine or two, slept soundly. We'd made it into the Red Sea. We had sailed 2700NM from Male, the same distance as an Atlantic crossing; much more varied in winds, upwind, downwind, beam-reaching, straits, islands, masses of shipping in comparison to the
trade wind trans Atlantic or trans-Pacific. As a result much more tiring although we are now seasoned and able to find sleep in the watch patterns.

With gentle more favourable winds on the beam finally helping us up the Red Sea, we had been rushing to try to make it back to England to attend the funeral of Charles's brother's wife, but visas and airline schedules made it impossible; no flights for 3 days from Port Sudan and we couldn't go via Saudi Arabia anyway. That is very sad and our thoughts are with Richard,

Suakin ruins

Kit and Guy.

Our agent in Suakin, Mohamed, was charming and efficient, with a snow-white robe and cap and a deep, gentle voice speaking excellent
English. He handled every request: laundry, gas bottles to be filled, fuel, shore passes, local SIM cards and currency. We went ashore for an excellent meal of grilled chicken with locals, in local manner - no cutlery, no napkins, many cats winding themselves around our ankles as we ate. The following day we visited the market and (sort of) supermarket and attracted lots of attention. Blue-eyed

Transporting sheep to Saudi Arabia

foreigners are rare here and several selfies were requested. The town is desperately poor, dry and tumble-down. Water is delivered by donkey-drawn carts and goats wander the streets amongst rusty cars and beggars. Old Suakin, connected to the modern town by a causeway, is in ruins but well worth a visit. Until 1945 it was still a slave port (the last in the world), constructed entirely of white coral blocks and wooden joists.  They've all fallen down and the whole island is rubble, with the odd elegant gate, doorway or minaret hinting at past glories. The Turkish government is financing a rebuilding project; what they've done so far is tasteful and

Nicky and Suakin schoolchildren

authentic, but it's an immense job. Locals were paddling, fully dressed, in the shallows and Nicky acquired a gaggle of schoolgirls and was glad to give away some exercise books, pencils and tee shirts; this is the poorest place we've been to on our travels. It's somewhere I doubt we'll ever return to, but am so glad we had the chance to visit.

We pressed onwards after only one night, knowing that northerly winds (we
get very accurate weather forecasts in "grib" files over the Satphone) were on their way, passing Port Sudan at night, with its oil refineries blazing. The border between Sudan and Egypt is disputed, so the question of when to
change courtesy flags was tricky. The Sudan one had to be cobbled together on board, using an Oman flag and some scraps of black material - a fun sewing challenge!  Having delightful and
competent Aussie Kurt on board makes it less tiring; this would have been a long slog two-up.

We were aiming for Port Ghalib in Egypt, nearly 1000NM up the Red Sea from
Aden; it's been a month since we left Galle, and we have had very little
time ashore in that month, and only 3 nights at anchor (ie not sailing since March 18) so we need some land time. We are now 3500NM sailing from Male, which is the same as Galapagos to Marquesas in the Pacific and that is all downwind.

Our plan was to head off to Luxor and Aswan. We were well and in good spirits.  Then we arrived in Port Ghalib only to be asked for Yellow Fever vaccination certificates. Kurt, Calum and Steve from Miss Tiggy and Matt from Lisanne did not have them. After much arguing we were sent out to sea at 9pm into 25 knot winds on the nose, and told to go to Suez and stay in transit.  Arguing that Sudan doesn't have Yellow Fever in the north where we had been was to no avail. Apparently it's a new regulation introduced on April 1st, and the harbour master and agents who had been aware we were coming since January 11th, didn't tell us.  Yes, you can argue it's Africa and we should all have had them. Anyway after 24 hours of beating into the waves and wind, when already very tired we have
arrived and dropped anchor in a large windsurfing bay and will shelter here for 48 hours until we head for Suez 2 weeks earlier than planned and then into the Med for Cyprus or Turkey or Israel.

So it's 200 NM to the Suez Canal, and 400 NM to Marmaris in Turkey. So we are indeed in the home straight. Those 600 NM would once have seemed like a major voyage; but, of course, they could easily be 1200 NM of "tippee" sailing, if the northerlies continue blow in the Gulf of Suez as is their custom and we need to tack back and forth, rather than taking a straight route.  Calliope will be looking forward to some TLC and a bit of a rest.