Lemme Get This Strait

Leaving Indonesia, heading to Malaysia. First, we had to manoeuvre our way across the Singapore Strait. After a week of shore-rest, there’s nothing quite like that shot of adrenalin that you get from being out there in your 43-foot sailboat among hundreds, even thousands, of 900-foot freighters. Gets you right back into the groove of really steering your boat.  

The Singapore Strait is a major chokepoint at the eastern end of the Strait of Malacca.  The Strait of Malacca is almost 600 miles long, 40-150 miles wide, and all that water flows into and through the Singapore Strait, just 70 miles long and 12 miles wide, narrowing to less than 2 miles at its narrowest and shallowest point. The water rushing through the narrow Strait is quite turbulent in places. We had a 3-kt current against us as we crossed – adding a little something extra to the excitement!

I suppose we should’ve known about VTS – Vehicle Traffic Services, provided by the IMO (International Maritime Organization) – but we had no idea such assistance was available. Operated in many busy waterways around the world, VTS is a live service – operated by actual humans. You call them up on your VHF, they zero in on your AIS and the AIS of the ships around you. Then they guide you across the Strait, in real time, by voice instruction over the VHF radio, very civilized.  Which ship you should cross behind, what colour is it, which ones to keep to port, when to change your course, when to make your bee-line from the eastbound to the westbound lanes. And perhaps most importantly, when not to do that!  VTS – live and learn – we’ll know to use it next time. For this time tough, we managed perfectly well on our own. 

We knew of course that, upon exiting the Singapore Strait, we’d enter the Strait of Malacca. I anticipated a big sigh of relief as we would pull away from hectic Singapore to continue up along the bucolic west coasts of Malaysia and Thailand, leaving all that cargo traffic well behind us. But, oh brother, what was I thinking?     

Undoubtedly, by now, you’ve heard of the Strait of Hormuz – that busy and so important shipping channel in the middle east, the closure of which by Iranian terrorists is now causing world economic chaos, triggered by American and Israeli warmongers and their inscrutable objectives. Well, turns out, Hormuz is the second busiest and second most important maritime trade route in the world – right behind #1 – you guessed it, the Strait of Malacca. The Singapore Strait is busy – it sees more ships daily that any other place on the planet – but that’s entirely due to it being the major chokepoint at the eastern end of the Strait of Malacca.

The main shipping channel between Europe and Asia, between the Indian and Pacific Oceans – the shortest trade route between India and China – the Malacca Strait is arguably the longest, busiest and most strategically important shipping lane on earth. A staggering 100,000 vessels pass through the Malacca Strait annually, carrying something like 40% of the world’s traded goods, including even more oil and gas than what passes through the Strait of Hormuz.

A lively and busy waterway, Melacca Strait is not at all like the romantic passage I’d imagined. But still, once we were well beyond the chokepoint of Singapore, say 7 hours out, as we started our way up the coast of Malaysia, it became decidedly less stressful and not at all unpleasant. No more hand-steering – no more hand-wringing!  Great big ships charging up and down the Strait, pushing 20 kts, keeping to their lanes, virtually no crossing over.  We switched on our auto-pilot and followed an almost straight line up the coast.

The TSS (Traffic Separation Scheme) goes up the Malacca Strait for almost 300 miles – think, divided highway – eastbound and westbound navigation lanes designated by the IMO, with a no-go separation zone in-between. The TSS extends from Singapore all the way up past Port Klang (Kuala Lumpur). To avoid the notorious Malaysian fishing fleets, we stayed well into the westbound shipping lane. We kept our watch primarily on what was coming up from behind, the endless procession of fast freighters passing us on both sides – often more closely than what we’d been used to.   

Twenty-six hours after leaving Batam (Indonesia) – a journey that included almost 10 hours of exquisite full-moon sailing! – we arrived 140 miles upstream at our first stop, Malacca City – a UNESCO world heritage site and a convenient port of entry for us to clear into Malaysia. 

Malacca City is bypassed by most cruisers because it doesn’t offer a protected anchorage. Even in moderate winds, there is no real shelter. The giant cruise ships sometimes skip their call at Malacca City due to high wind and waves.  But at the time of our arrival and for the next three solid days, we had virtually no wind – so, we could safely and comfortably anchor in the open water, directly in front of the long shoreline, less than half-a-mile offshore, with easy dinghy access to the city. 

One of the oldest cities in Malaysia, Malacca City is an interesting, colourful and truly delightful mosaic of its founding, colonizing and immigrant cultures. 

The dominant Malay culture dates back to the founding of Malacca in 1400 and subsequent rule by the Malacca Sultanates.  Early on, the Ming Chinese set their sights on Malacca as a strategic commercial hub for treasure voyages into the Indian Ocean and other South Asian trade ambitions.  As a protectorate of the Ming dynasty, Malacca was soon transformed from a humble fishing village into an important and successful trading port – the most prosperous entrepôt in the Malay Archipelago.

News of its riches caught the attention of European imperialist empires who successively captured Malacca by force.  First, Portugal in 1511, Malacca was governed by the Portuguese Empire for over 100 years. Then it was taken by the Dutch East India Company, in cahoots with the Malay sultanates from Johor in the 1641 Siege of Malacca. Eventually, in the early 1800s, the Brits took over and ruled the so-called Straits Settlements (including Singapore) as a colony until Malay independence in 1957.

Malacca’s importance as a seaport underwent a slow and long decline under Dutch and British rulers who favoured Jakarta and later Singapore as trading hubs. Malacca’s economy now revolves much more around tourism than trade.

Malacca City is home to half-a-million – 60% Malay and 30% Chinese, more-or-less, with a smaller minority of Indians and others.  But ethnically, it’s so much more complicated than that. Centuries of inter-marriage and cultural exchange, dating back to the Melacca Sultanate, has resulted in ethnic mixtures – some shared with Singapore, some uniquely Malaccan.

For example, the Peranakan Chinese, aka Baba Nyonyas or Straits-born Chinese, descend from Chinese traders who intermarried with Malay women, adopted local culture and language, but preserved their Chinese heritage and religious traditions. The majority are Buddhists or Taoists. 

The Chitty are descended from Tamil and other Indian traders who married Malay and local women of other ethnicities – a small diminishing population, but they have their own Chitty-Malay Creole language. They are Hindus who do not speak Tamil. 

Distinct from the Tamil-speaking community who are Christians.

The Kristang people descend from European Portuguese men and the local women they married during the era of Portuguese rule – mainly Malay women, but also Chinese, Indian and others. Kristang have their own cultures and traditions, including the critically-endangered Kristang language. They are predominantly Christian.  

In this truly multi-ethnic City, it’s easy to imagine a world without racism. We don’t see racism in action over here. The City presents as a model of peaceful co-existence. And I daresay, more than that – a community that embraces diversity and mutual respect. Everywhere you turn and everything you do has observable elements of mixed ancestry that are acknowledged and celebrated. (But it would clearly be a stretch to describe Malaysia as a model of ethnic diversity and religious freedom. Although officially a secular state, Islam is the official religion under the constitution – and it’s plain that the Malay Muslim majority enjoy many advantages over ethnic and religious minorities.)

As tourists in Malacca, we experience an exquisite mélange of cultures in the mosques, temples and churches that exist almost side-by-side, lining the same busy streets. 

We experience it in the myriad of festivals and colourful street life throughout the City. Festivals that borrow elements from other festivals.  Fireworks – lots of fireworks – lots and often – I mean, SE Asians really love fireworks.  And often we’re left to wonder exactly what it is that’s being celebrated. One of the many days of Chinese New Year? A milestone of Ramadan? Something more pan-Malaysian? A truly local event? Ask around, get different answers.

Deliciously, and perhaps above all, we taste this exquisite mélange in the many and varied food offerings.  From nasi lemak (coconut rice with sambal) to Chinese rice balls to Indian delicacies.  From Durian puffs to coconut shakes to Portuguese tarts. 

One day, we did nothing but walk the streets of Malacca and graze on snacks from the Nyonya, Chinese, Malay, Indian and European restaurants in the City.  Still, we managed a full dinner that evening in, of all things, a Spanish restaurant that came highly recommended by a Dutchman and his Nyonya wife.

Leaving Malacca, we continued our journey up the Strait, heading for Langkawi with a fuel-stop in Pangkor. 

Glad to be back out there, away from the punishing heat of the City.  As we got close to Kuala Lumpur, the traffic lanes got busier again.  Motoring, motoring, motoring.  Wind was light but, around midnight, it swung around to starboard, enough for us to put up some sail.  Flat water, clear night, calm rhythm. We were motorsailing, making 6.5 kts.  It was 3 am, and I was delighting in my uneventful night watch.    

But then, from nowhere, both engines just stopped.  Like a switch was flipped.  At exactly the same moment, both engines just stopped. Weird.  What happened?

Our sleeping cabin is next to the starboard engine, and Bill was immediately awakened by the sudden drop from 2,000 to 0 rpm.  Our searchlight was called into action, and immediately it illuminates the problem.  We’ve snagged a huge and heavy fishing net – snagged simultaneously by both props.  A ghost net, we figure – no floats, no flags, no marks at all – well into the shipping lane, well away from any fisher activity – floating wide and aimlessly just below the surface. 

We turn off the engines and feather the saildrives to minimize potential damage to the props.  We’re still flying the genny, but the wind is light and our boatspeed has fallen to just 0.8 kts. We adjust our auto-pilot, but with so little boatspeed and the wind just 50° to starboard, we can’t hold a course in the direction of the traffic flow.  We’re slowly drifting across the navigation lane. 

We turn on our brightest lights and illuminate the cockpit.  Dual purpose – makes us more visible to oncoming ships – and lights up the stern to help in our efforts to disentangle.  With a boathook, we pull small sections of the heavy net up close to the transom. Bill clamps himself onto the boat and gets down low on the transom to cut the net. 

It’s a huge net, spanning from hull to hull, and extending many tens of metres on either side of us.  It’s a thick net – from top to bottom, there’s a lot of it – and it’s made of thick strong polyester line and topped with a thicker yet cable that’s covered in a woven fabric.  Not easy to cut.  And the knife blade dulls almost instantly.  Sharpen the knife.  Bring up more net. Cut again.  Repeat. 

We can tell, the net has been floating out there for a while.  As we bring up section after section, we find plastic water bottles and other garbage ensnarled in the net.  In one section, we bring up a dead baby shark.  

After more than an hour of cutting, Bill’s hands are spent.  We can’t release the rest of the net without diving on the props, and that will have to wait for daylight.  In the meantime, we watch the freighter traffic approach from behind.  We see them change their course to avoid us as we continue to drift ever so slowly into harm’s way.  One boat gets a little close for comfort – so, we call him on the VHF, tell him we’re disabled and ask him to adjust his course. 

At daybreak, we assemble the hookah and pull in our sail.  In the rising sun behind us, we can see ships that have adjusted their course to avoid us – 12 of them.  Bill gets back into his wetsuit, dives down and handily clears the remaining nets off the props and the rudders.   By 8 am, we’re back underway!   

The marina in Pangkor is expecting us.  Notwithstanding our entanglement delay, we should still arrive in daylight.  But then, unexpectedly, in the late afternoon, we encounter a fuel starvation issue with our starboard engine and, eventually, it quits altogether.  Not serious, we have another engine, one of the many benefits of a catamaran!  But it does mean an overnight stop at a small island just 22 miles from Pangkor.  It’s a lovely looking island – remote, uninhabited, tropical – and I’m just as glad for the stopover.

We no sooner drop the hook than three large sea otters approach Turtlebones – just curious, I guess.  But, combined with our next visitor, a big colourless jellyfish, they give me pause about jumping in for a swim.  Instead, we drop the dinghy and go ashore to walk on what appears to be a pristine beach.

It’s just 100 metres away, but as we approach, reality comes into focus.  Far far from pristine – the beach is a veritable garbage dump.  Plastic bottles and broken styrofoam rule, cast-offs from fishing and other boats. So disappointing!

At Pangkor, we fill our diesel tanks and find a solution to our starboard engine.  We’re referred to engine mechanic Zaman, who comes to our boat over two consecutive days, with his wife Zariani who wears both a hijab and a baseball cap – she carries the tools and runs the show. He works away for hours each day in our sweltering hot engine room – during Ramadan when even a sip of water is prohibited until sundown.  This time of year, temperatures are 38 C or 100 F, and humidity is never less than 80%. Brutal.

From Pangkor, we continue our way up the Strait of Malacca. We’ll wrap up the sailing season in Langkawi, but not before a diversion to visit Penang and its capitol George Town, another UNESCO world heritage site, another former trading hub on the spice route, another former British colonial city.

George Town encompasses the now-familiar ethnic complexities of other Malay colonies and trading hubs. For visitors like us, the local food is a big draw, running the gastro-gamut from Chinese to Peranakan to Malay to Indian. Renowned for its street food, colonial architecture and street art, we thoroughly enjoyed our visit to George Town. Just a few pics to give you a glimpse of this historic town.

Onward to Langkawi. Where we’ll cruise around and eventually put Turtlebones on the hard until next season.

Go Jays, Go!