October 16, 2017

We left Ketawai Island this morning after saying good-bye to my brother, Nick. He’d just spent a beloved week traveling with us, having brought a lot of gear and gifts, and taking back with him a lot of our souvenirs. We were all emotional saying goodbye. Our ‘live’ link with home has left and we were back to being the 4 muskateers. Bintan is the last scheduled stop for the Sail Indonesia Rally 2017. Our rally’s member boats have dwindled to a mere remaining 5-6. Some participants never really followed any of the rally and some headed off to other parts of the world after following most of it. The US Thanksgiving holiday season is approaching. So some needed to leave their boats elsewhere to fly “home” for a visit with family and friends. Most of the rally boats preferred not to sail overnight. Being predominantly couples, they found themselves exhausted upon arrival, losing a day to recover. We are not such a boat. Overnighters are simple for us, being that we are four and can spread like a fan the burden of night watches. Our night watch routine has now become habit.

Winds on the northern side of the Indonesian island chain are light and typically from behind as we sailed westerly. The mainsail was mostly used to steady our vessel as we motored along in a light following swell. We chose such weather purposely, wanting to avoid adversarial conditions whenever possible.

This night was like our other Indonesian crossings in that regard. What I didn’t expect was the challenge the fishing nets would throw at us. We’ve grown accustomed to weaving our way around the fishing boats and their obstacles, including their fish attracting devices (FAD’s), free floating or anchored constructs of various size and materials, usually equipped with a small double D-cell battery operated LED flashing light, activated by the darkness. The fishing boats are also of various sizes, some no larger than a Mexican panga, others equivalent to small tuna boat. Typically, fishing boats with nets deployed fall down wind or down current, whichever is stronger, of their nets, their bows thus pointing up toward the other end of their net. We pass behind these boats. The larger boats with racks of large bright lights blaring on both sides, carry their nets close to their sides and behind them to attract and snag squid. These boats we pass on their ‘away’ side, the side opposite their direction of travel. Where the shallows meet the deep must be the region of great schools of fish because it was at this point we passed through what seems a 15-mile line of lighted boats a mile thick. It felt like we were a starship, breaking through an imaginary line of alien starships. Just before the first night watch, we spied a larger than normal lighted fishing buoy. We had to quickly make a choice: sail to port or starboard of the buoy.

We chose to sail starboard of the buoy and that choice forced us to carry forward for 50 minutes taking us further away out to sea away from our island destination. Every 100 yards there was a small white buoy attached to the net to indicate a net was there – no electronic bobbers or beacons in site. It wasn’t at all clear where the net ended. Bryce and Leslie headed to the foredeck armed with flashlights to watch for each new buoy hoping there would be an end. Eventually, the net culminated at a medium sized wooden Indonesian fishing boat. Motoring around the fishing boat, we then headed back to our original line – this adventure adding an extra 2 hours or so to our intended plan all the while motoring on placid night seas. So far, we have avoided getting tangled in fishing nets. We’ll remain vigilant.