Captains Log: A Yacht's Unforgettable Voyage from Dubai to Sicily

Dubai to Salalah – “Trial By Goat”

As soon as security stepped on board we set off from Dubai with mild optimism, we had a fairly flat run for the next couple of days, reached the armoury vessel, which was 60 or so miles offshore, and with little drama we picked up weapons for the security team. This was the first place we gave one of many cartons of cigarettes away to help smooth operations.

The weather then began to change for the worse but we still had an element of hope for the coming voyage. With the weather deteriorating further the crew and security started to turn various shades of green, the bridge had become more like an oven than a command centre and the engines were stubbornly overheating. The yacht was close to her limits and we feared our chase boat we were towing was going to take a dive that she would never come back from, but we knew things were going to get better, we just had to bunker fuel in Salalah and get out of the Indian Ocean.

Bureaucracy and incompetent agents delayed us outside port and we were asked to stay some miles offshore until further permissions were granted. We eventually pulled into Salalah and felt a warm glow when we saw that a fuel truck was waiting for us on the quay; we can still make it out of here and within thirty hours we could be through the worst of the weather. We then discovered that the agents had not ensured that the truck had the correct fittings for us, even though we’d been assured numerous times that they had. “Don’t worry Captain, we will have one in 30 mins”. Half an hour turned into three hours, which turned into six hours and eventually fourteen. At around eight hours of waiting, swearing and pacing I realised we weren’t going to be leaving Salalah anytime soon and that the weather window we had was lost.

Salalah port is a draining, soul destroying, dream shattering, hole of a place that will suck the life out of immortality. Everyday lead to new challenges, complications and paperwork, with bonded weapons and security personnel not lightening the load.

We weren’t allowed off the yacht and were intermittently thrown out of the port to go and anchor in a dangerous and uncomfortable swell. Even in port we were moored between goat delivery boats with a smell you could taste. The bathrooms on these boats were of an outdoor nature and unfortunately once some things are seen, it’s hard to unsee them.

Our saviour came in the form of a port official, who was wandering past one day while I was inspecting and adjusting lines due to the tidal waters, and checking that the sticking out re-enforcement bars in the concrete of the quay weren’t about to burst another fender. I say saviour, this is quite an exaggeration, but with a little persuasion this man would take our chef outside for shopping, get us a couple of extra nights in port and eventually take most of us through port control to the local Seaman’s club for what was to be our only night off the yacht during the voyage.

The night before we were due to leave for what was our only feasible weather window for the foreseeable future, we were told the port would be closed the following day for a religious holiday. So, we frantically let lines go and went to rock around at anchor. Salalah port, we hope never to see you again.

Salalah to Jeddah – “Trial By GPS”

Without any hesitation and a determination not to come back, we left Salalah at sunrise.

For the next 30 hours we were again treated to some miserable weather. We had waves coming over the bow and filling our rescue tender which now better resembled a paddling pool on a rollercoaster. With no safe havens to reach I was desperately wishing for the weather to calm.

It did when we reached the Gulf of Aden and although we were now in a high-risk area, I couldn’t care less, we’d got here without major damage and our chase boat was still afloat.

Soon after, the Global Positioning System failed. We’d expected this but not quite how integrated it would be with all of the other bridge equipment. Speed through water, course over ground, speed over ground, closest points of approach, automatic identification systems and stabilisers all failing. We gradually isolated some of the systems and managed to temporarily stop a few of the louder alarms, but this certainly made for challenging navigating. We also discovered that not only could GPS be turned off, it could also be on and place us and all others ships in fabricated positions. All sailors swear but the profanity shouted over the VHF when some of these large ships thought they may collide with each other was top shelf imagination. Their mothers always seemed to be involved in parts of these exchanges.

We received heightened security alerts throughout this section of the voyage and became aware of the imminent escalation of conflict in the area. Ships were asked to reconsider vacating the area during our last 48hrs of voyage in the HRA, but where were we to go in a hurry at 12 knots, and I felt we were almost through. Soon we were dropping weapons off, and having not had GPS for sometime we were pleased to find that our navigation had been accurate enough to find the armoury vessel with ease. Thankfully during the transit Somali pirates were nowhere to be seen.

In a latter report, coming from the head of our security, it was kindly pointed out that although putting aluminium storm shutters on was a great help with blacking out during the most reputable part of the HRA, they would however do little to stop a rocket propelled grenade during an attack by the Houthis or Somalians. Perhaps he was forgetting that this yacht has a plastic hull.

Jeddah to Suez - “Trial by Immigration”

There were a few crew logistics to arrange but Jeddah, at least the marina, was a pleasant surprise. It really felt like they’d rolled out the red carpet for us, they even filmed us coming in, and apart from a slight delay, a few forced smiles and deep breaths with customs and immigration, everything went remarkably well.

We had a little bit of a bumpy ride in the northern part of the Red Sea and had to slow right down until we got close to Suez where we had a nice calm anchorage for 24 or so hours before leaving for the Canal. This enabled us to have the hull cleaned to make us a little quicker and save on fuel. The hookah dive system and the equipment used must have pre-dated the 60’s. We managed to prise enormous boots from the supervisor when he boarded, but I was not quick enough to prevent him from lighting up in the bridge.

Suez was the first time we could clearly see the bright flashes and following debris of missiles sent from Iran being shot down by Israel. The ones not shot down left trails and little else; it was a powerful reminder of how lucky we are to live in a relatively cohesive part of the world and perhaps of how self-indulgent I am being in writing about our comparatively insignificant trials.

The Suez Canal itself was fairly mundane with the greatest challenge being the pilots who expected to be waited on hand and foot and never ceased to ask for gifts. Everyone in this part of the world seems to be a prolific smoker and although we had 10,000 cigarettes onboard it quickly became apparent that we were going to run out. We had to deal with endless bureaucracy and, to varying degrees, bribe every worker and every official. This theme continued throughout our stay in Egypt.

After transit we were asked to go to an anchorage 21 miles offshore with 1.5-2m swells, we’d asked for an anchorage to wait out weather and were eventually given one 6 miles offshore but this unfortunately was still not feasible for us.

Four hours after leaving the canal and navigating an immensely confusing buoyage system during further bright flashes from shot down missiles adding to the chaos of flashing lights from the buoys, we were eventually given a temporary berth next to a shanty town. We were tied to a mixture of concrete tetrapods, loose bollards, pylons and scrap.

The next day we had to move twice and apparently it was necessary for two pilots on each occasion.

Voyage to Sicily – “Trial by Ghost Ship”

After no sleep due to losing GPS again and there being constant alarms I radioed in to the port authorities at 01.30 for a 03.00 departure to meet a fuel ship arranged by our ever-resourceful agents. As we approached the given co-ordinates it became more and more apparent that the ship was not where it was meant to be. This illusive ship, we eventually discovered, was heading in the wrong direction over 100 miles from the position we were given. This was the last straw with the agents in Egypt, and we were lucky to have enough fuel to make it to Sicily and although not ideal made new plans to bunker there.

We arrived on fumes and I never thought I’d be so happy to hear an Italian voice over the VHF radio and indeed a couple of days later I found I was even happy to hear a French one.

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We’re all in good spirits and confident of a smoother voyage next time, although in future we think it would be wise to leave before the monsoon season starts.