Kijana Read online

  The wind continued to shift in all directions as though it was determined to make it difficult for us to travel. We used the sails as often as possible and managed to keep engine use to a minimum after we left Batam Island.

  Unlike the shifting wind, my thoughts were focused on just one matter. I emailed Maya that we hoped to arrive at Phuket in five days’ time, which was probably a little too optimistic. She replied that she would book her flight to arrive in Phuket the day we did. I’d set us a fierce challenge to travel about 800 miles in only five days, but I was determined to get there as quickly as I could. I didn’t care what the wind had planned for us. If it wasn’t going to help us, then the engine sure as hell would.

  Plotting our position had never been more important. It reminded me of those last few days I’d spent aboard Lionheart before arriving home. I tackled the art of navigation with renewed vigour. Josh and Beau seemed to feed off my excitement and together we really got stuck into sailing as quickly as we could. Each centimetre on the map was a small victory, and every hour I would calculate a new ETA and make adjustments to keep Kijana on course. It was no mean feat, for the shipping channel along the coast of Malaysia threw up many obstacles, not the least being the long lines of fishing nets and trawlers which had the nasty habit of working at night without lights.

  We entered Thai waters on 29 November 2002, and late that afternoon spotted, in the distance, the island of our dreams. We rechecked the chart to confirm excitedly that it was Phi Phi Lae, the location of Maya Bay. On that first brief sighting, it certainly appeared the way we’d imagined it – the first thing on the trip that had. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

  Our visit to that island was to come later. First, I had an important rendezvous. We continued on another 25 miles to Phuket Island and as the sun set and the wind died, we motored into Patong Bay. Without worrying about Customs, we dropped anchor and launched the dinghy for the short trip to shore. Maya expected to see us in the morning but I wanted to surprise her at the hotel that very night. I grabbed my Borneo backpack and threw in a razor, toothpaste and soap. It had been 17 days since we’d left Samarinda and the thought of a shower was sending us crazy.

  As Beau and I stepped into the dinghy, Josh suddenly changed his mind and decided to remain on board. Throughout the entire trip us guys had shared every exciting moment together. Landing in a new country was always cause for celebration, if for nothing else than to get clean and have a nice meal. It would be the first time the three amigos hadn’t shared the excitement of a landfall.

  We tried to convince him, but he was adamant that he wanted to stay and get some sleep, which I found hard to understand. But I had other things on my mind, so Beau and I headed ashore in the dinghy and caught a taxi to the hotel.

  Once inside the hotel foyer I used the phone at reception and dialled Maya’s room, pretending I was still at sea. After confirming I would meet her in the morning, we climbed the stairs to her room, knocked on the door and hid against the wall. Sensibly, she took a while to open the door, a single girl in a strange country and all that. Eventually she opened it, and as she did I peered around the doorway to see my lovely girl standing in her pyjamas with a twinkle in her eye. I felt embarrassed by the stupid grin on my face, but there was nothing I could do about it. I was that happy! At that moment Kijana felt a world away.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TROUBLE IN PARADISE

  THAILAND BROUGHT WITH IT ALL THE trappings of western life we’d long forgotten. We felt guilty, dirty even, indulging in the luxuries of modern life – soft drink, spicy Thai meals and cheap pirated CDs. But after a few days of indulging, we soon tired of consumerism and yearned to get back to the business of Kijana.

  We were kick-started into action by Beau’s need to find his way to the other side of Thailand, where his meditation course was due to begin in a couple of days. It took us a while to work out the best way there – a bus to the mainland, then a train to the east coast of the mainland where the eight-day course of mind-cleansing was to be held.

  We said our goodbyes and arranged to meet at the island of Phi Phi Don, the biggest island next to Phi Phi Lae, the location of The Beach. From there we would make the triumphant sail into the lagoon of Maya Bay, all four of us together.

  In Beau’s absence, Josh, Maya and I sailed to the other side of Phuket Island, docking at a rather fancy marina and setting to work, giving Kijana a well-deserved clean. She had done a mighty job powering into the monsoon, so the least she deserved was a bit of TLC.

  The marina was strangely located in an estuary that could only be accessed at high tide when there was enough water to cover the mudflats. Despite this odd impediment, the marina was a major facility, with more than 100 yachts berthed along the marina fingers, a couple of restaurants and dry-dock facilities.

  Over the three days we were berthed there we took all the carpet outside to dry, wiped the shelves, restocked the galley, and washed the sheets and pillows.

  The three of us worked well together, and there was a sense of achievement as Kijana was spruced up. Even if we were struggling to get good film for the documentaries, seeing Kijana in tiptop condition made me feel better. She was a major investment for the project and had to be looked after.

  After completing our work we decided to sail to Phi Phi Don, where we would hang out and wait for Beau. As I paid the hefty marina fees I asked the shipwright for some advice on how to get out of the marina. Entry and exit had to be timed with the tides and I was heartened when he told me we were leaving at precisely the right time.

  ‘Just follow the river the way you came in,’ he told me.

  I stepped aboard Kijana, confident and happy with her condition, and excited about the islands we would visit in the coming days. With a clean boat I was keen to show Maya the best side of sailing.

  I took to the helm after warming the engine and yelled out to Josh, who was still on the jetty, to untie the mooring lines. Josh stepped aboard just before the gap between the boat and the jetty got too far as confidently as any experienced seaman I’d seen. Watching him, I was even more confident that when Beau finally left us in India, Josh and I could maintain our vessel and command her safely.

  However, my confidence soon evaporated when I felt a strange sensation as we motored into the first bend in the river. It was the dull feeling of Kijana wedging herself into a mud bank in the corner of the river. So much for our boating prowess!

  ‘Shit,’ was all I could muster. I shifted the engine into reverse, hoping to back out of the mud, but she refused to budge. Even revving the bejickers out of the motor made no difference.

  We could see the tide sucking the water out to sea, slowly dropping the level around Kijana’s hull and holding her tightly wedged into the bank. It was at that point I noticed the masts leaning ever-so-slightly towards the mangroves trees on our port side. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to cause panic. The tide was dropping so quickly that if we didn’t get off the bank, our newly cleaned vessel would be left high and dry, pathetically leaning on her side until the tide returned in about six hours. How would that sound to the office? I could just see their take on it – Kijana had run aground because I was too busy ogling my girlfriend. Great!

  Josh radioed the marina office for assistance. At least they didn’t have far to get there, for we’d failed to travel more than 100 metres from the jetty. The shipwright and his crew arrived within five minutes in a powerful diesel tugboat. They attached lines to every point possible and gave the tug everything she had. But nothing would work. All the while, Kijana continued to lean further and further over as the rush of water from the river gathered pace. We reached the point where it was no use trying to pull Kijana out of the mud, for the tide was too far gone.

  I looked at the shipwright with pleading eyes. ‘It’s OK,’ he said trying to reassure me, ‘it’s happened to other yachts quite often.’

  Then why the hell didn’t you warn me, I felt like asking him. Inste
ad, I asked what the ‘other yachts’ had done. He told us to tie ropes from the top of each mast to an old rusting abandoned barge on the other side of the river. This, he said, would stop the yacht toppling over onto her side completely. With an outgoing tide, no vessels could get in or out of the marina, so our ropes weren’t going to cause any problems, he said. We just had to make sure we got them down by the time the tide returned or else we’d cause a traffic jam of yachts.

  The shipwright left us with the frantic job of stringing lines to the opposite bank before the lean got much worse. For more than an hour we crisscrossed the river in the dinghy, tying ropes to the barge, until we began to feel like spiders spinning a web. When we finished, Kijana looked like our poor insect victim.

  To complete the experience it began to rain, so we scrambled aboard Kijana’s deck, which now lay at a 45-degree angle. Below deck we began moving everything to the port side of the cabin to prevent anything falling off shelves and causing damage. The tide was so low by that stage we were able to walk around the exposed hull, which, from a distance, looked like a beached whale. We were even able to inspect the barnacles growing on the propeller.

  There was nothing we could do except wait for the water level to rise when the tide came back in. Actually, there was one thing we were able to do – get some footage. Josh ran around like a madman getting shots from every angle.

  While Josh stayed on board getting footage, Maya and I returned to the marina for a few hours. Josh later recounted how difficult it was to cook on a stove tilting 45 degrees. Why he even embarked on such a project was beyond me.

  We arrived back as the incoming tide began to return the water level to its former depth. As surely as she went over, Kijana’s masts began their journey back to an upright position. By this stage it was late afternoon and the day was escaping us. If we didn’t get her off the bank during the small window of high tide, she’d be stuck there all night in a repeat performance.

  Soon a queue of incoming yachts was waiting for us to unravel our mass of lines draped across the river, and get the hell out of the way. The shipwright’s tug returned to provide some extra oomph and, with Kijana’s motor revving, we slowly slid off the bank and into the safety of deeper water. As the yachts passed by, we were faced with the decision of which way to go. Although the tide was at its highest, the poor light prevented us attempting an escape. We’d sure as eggs hit another bank in the darkness, so we reluctantly headed back to the same jetty we’d departed from only that morning, and tied up for the night. Even on that return trip of 100 metres we managed to hit another bank, overheating the engine as we extracted ourselves from another near disaster.

  By time I stepped onto the jetty I felt relieved, but also pissed off at our mishaps. Despite the poor information we’d been given, I blamed myself for what had happened.

  While Josh and Maya prepared a cold meal for dinner, I set about cleaning the fuel filter, which was the main suspect for the overheated motor. After halting the fuel flow and unbolting the cap, I stood on the jetty as I wiped out the muck from the filter. In keeping with the day’s events, I knocked my hand against the wharf and dropped the filter’s glass cap into the dark water below. It disappeared within seconds, along with any hope that my nightmare day was over. Hell, I was mad. It meant we’d be wasting more time, when every day that went by was one less that Maya and I would share together. Time was too precious to waste being stuck in mud. In the back of my mind I told myself everything would be OK once we got to Maya Bay.

  The following morning, I managed to get hold of a second-hand filter cap and by the time I’d fitted it, the tide was at its peak. We managed to cautiously snake our way down the river without incident until we finally hit the open seas. From there it was a four-hour sail to Phi Phi Don and, hopefully, paradise. I was never so glad to see an open expanse of water.

  As we got underway I wondered what Maya thought of life on board, how she saw herself fitting into the crew and whether she still wanted to take the plunge and join the trip permanently. Up to that point we hadn’t discussed it, preferring instead to merely bask in each other’s company. Of course she wanted to stay on, she told me when I asked her. As long as she was with me she’d be happy! How could I not love this girl.

  However, her resolve was soon tested when she began to feel seasick after a few hours at sea, her longest stretch yet on Kijana. While Kijana rode the waves without a hint of repercussions from her episode the previous day, Maya was going green in the face. I couldn’t help but be reminded of those first days of the trip and the experiences of Mika and Nicolette.

  I could see Josh’s reaction and knew what was going through his mind. It was the same thing going through mine. However, this time I was more sympathetic. And so was Josh, who promptly fired up the engine to get us to Phi Phi Don quickly to end Maya’s suffering.

  After four hours on the water we were close enough to spy the intricate details of the cliffs on Phi Phi Don. We planned our visit as a two-pronged attack – Phi Phi Don was to be the fun of the bars and backpackers, while Phi Phi Lae would be the natural beauty of The Beach.

  As soon as we stopped and dropped anchor, Maya immediately felt better. And when Josh spied the shops and bars of the main strip, his spirits lifted as well.

  ‘I can smell the ladies from here,’ he declared as we got ready to explore the shore.

  We were surprised by how much activity we found on the island. We’d heard there were a lot of bars, but nothing like the number we found. There was everything from dive shops and cafés to street stalls cooking crêpes and piling them with exotic fillings before our eyes. We even passed a few restaurants where the diners ate in silence, watching none other than Leonardo Di Caprio on the very beach that lay a few miles from where we stood. We obviously weren’t the only ones to be lured here by a Hollywood film. Since the film’s release in 1999, tourism to these islands had skyrocketed. It had always been a popular place, but was now even more so.

  We found a small place to eat dinner, then settled at a club and hit the dance floor. There were backpackers from all over the place – England, Germany, Australia and the United States to name a few. Everyone was there for a good time, so conversation was easy and soon a small group had formed around us.

  Towards the end of the night Maya and I wandered off to find a crêpe stall for dessert, but when we returned to the club Josh had disappeared. We headed back to the dinghy, presuming he’d be waiting for us there, but there was no sign of him when we got there. We sat and waited half an hour until Josh’s distinctive figure came striding towards us. We’d all drunk our fair share of Red Bulls and whisky, but Josh walked with an intensity that I instantly recognised meant that something was wrong.

  He said nothing when he arrived, instead grabbing the dinghy and attempting to pull it into the water on his own. I thought it a strange move, for he knew it was way too heavy for one person to drag, so Maya and I grabbed the other side and helped heave it into the water. After we started the motor and began the 100-metre trip back to Kijana, I asked him what was wrong. His face was deadpan, his eyes watery red.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, then immediately changed his mind. ‘Where were you guys?’

  ‘We came back after something to eat but couldn’t find you,’ I explained.

  He said nothing in response. We arrived at Kijana and stepped aboard, with still not a word uttered. Josh was obviously pretty pissed off at something. He’d either been in a fight, which was highly unlikely, or he felt abandoned by Maya and me. Either way, I felt the issue needed to be resolved, so I quizzed him again.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

  He didn’t answer but stepped back over the safety lines and into the dinghy and in a drunken slur announced he was going off to think.

  As he started the outboard, I yelled out for him to stop, but he ignored me. He may have needed time to think, but this was plain dangerous. I yelled out even louder but he didn’t bat an eyelid. It was the first tim
e he’d ignored an order from me. I was very worried, for I’d already hit one of the shallow reefs in the dinghy earlier that day.

  As he began to swerve off uncontrollably into the darkness, I took a flying leap off the deck, managing to grab hold of one of the inflatable hulls while the rest of my body dragged in the water. He had such a head of steam that he ignored my plight and revved the engine as hard as he could, dragging me along as I tried to keep my feet away from the spinning propeller. I was being just as stupid as Josh, and I knew I wouldn’t have done it if I was sober, but the stakes were high, for Josh was in no state to control a speeding dinghy. I eventually managed to drag myself into the dinghy and yanked out the safety key which immediately shut the engine down.

  ‘If you want to go, you can row,’ I yelled, jumping back into the water with the key in my hand and swimming back to Kijana. By the time I clambered back on deck I could just make out the sound of oars dipping into water. I looked at Maya but didn’t know what to say to her.

  ‘He went that way,’ she offered, pointing into the darkness. There was no moon and I could no longer hear the splosh of the oars, so he could have been anywhere by then.

  ‘At least he’s not gonna kill himself,’ I said rather dramatically, hoping to justify my reckless heroics.

  ‘Maybe you should go and talk to him,’ Maya said. I wholeheartedly agreed with her, for I cared deeply about Josh. But the truth was I didn’t know what to say.

  We sat in the dark contemplating what had just happened when, from across the still water, came the heart-wrenching noise of uncontrollable sobbing. I knew it was Josh.

  I wanted to hug him and apologise for taking the key. I wanted him to know it was OK, that if he felt like he was losing a friend since Maya had arrived, he hadn’t. Having Maya on board changed nothing for me. I loved her but Josh was always going to be my first mate. No one could replace what he had brought to Kijana. I wished he’d realised that before.