MAFIA

After the a good nights sleep in our "glamp tents" the following morning Mark and I could be found sitting on the beach watching the drowning duo and shark bait along with Eben and Ryan sailing off into the distance. Our deck hands had not arrived and sunlight was burning. While I am keen to have an adventure the idea of crossing open ocean without crew unnerved me. I did not want to set sail without some experienced on board, so we discussed with the rescue boat our needs. A well respected sailor was watching the boats leave and after some negotiation he and his friend agreed to come with us to Mafia.

It was a pleasant day’s sail the new skipper, an older gentleman, who we had nothing but praise for his seamanship abilities. His navigation skills were beyond belief, with no compass no charts and no land marks he set the perfect course for Mafia. To begin with I checked his course on our GPS on a half hour basis, but soon realised he knew where he was going so Mark dug out the fishing lines, unfortunately nothing was biting. The wind did pick up in the early afternoon and our skipper reefed the sails which led to Eben and Ryan catching us and shooting past at a good rate of knots. They ran into trouble later and never reached Mafia that day, but spent the night on a small deserted island to fix their boat once again.

As we reached Mafia, the drowning duo and shark bait had sailed round a reef marked on the charts while our skipper sailed right over the top allowing us to pull up on the beach a few minutes in front of them, bragging rights to the Salty Seamen.

Mafia

Mafia was a compulsory check in, and as we arrived we were told the fleet had become too spread out and a race hold was put in place for the next 24 hours. We also had out first casualties of the race. Marcus who had tried to sail solo and then hired a skipper had finally thrown in the towel and was waiting for the Scottish pair Colin and Fraser to join there crew. The young American team also decided enough was enough with a parting comment of; "we're too young to die.” and were gone.

The Scottish Lads - Having a spot of trouble

I believe the Aussies also had troubles on this leg and were towed for a few hours arriving on the beach in the middle of the night, while the Scott’s lads had returned to Songa Songa after hitting more trouble.

On Sunday we were met by our new crew members, who after some discussion had agreed to come with us to the finish of the race on Pemba Island, on the condition they could repair, renew and upgrade our boat. Thanks to Dylan a new boom was found and installed, holes were filled and ropes were renewed. Then it was off to the local town to find entertainment and a bed for the night which was sorely needed after the mattress on the floor of the bar we had the previous night.

Due to Marks fantastic sense of direction we found a wonderful guest house with on suite facilities and air-conditioning and a bar for lunch. Luxury! It wasn't long before other teams found the bar and were told of the guest house. The Vikings, the Aussies and Ryan and Eben who arrived that morning, all joined us in the guest house. The dinner menu consisted of “food” and after a three hour wait while the hosts disappeared to purchase the food, and cook the food, and finally we were served with fish and chips. By which time of course the party was in full swing, all things considered it was quite a night.

Glamping and Whores in Songa Songa

After an uneventful day of sailing we arrived at Songa Songa, while I say uneventful we are talking about Adventure 9, or its unofficial name the Poseidon Plunge.

An uneventful day of sailing entails getting up at 5am to find we were 30mins too late for the tide, enlisting the help of a group of workers to help push the boat into the sea. Any later and we would have been stuck high and dry until the tide came back in. We had the wind at our backs so it was a straight reach for half the 40 mile distance. A slight mishap during the changing of the sail setting, half-filled the boat with water, but there was no capsizing for us. We stopped on a sandbank for some quick relief and carried on, passing “the drowning duo and shark bate” who were busy retying their boat back together as their out riggers had come off. They were doing this while treading water in the middle of the ocean. Apparently it took then 3hrs! 

Songa Songa

So in comparison to past days Mark and I had an uneventful days sailing. Songa Songa is a paradise island in keeping with its name. As we arrived we encountered Eben opening his bar in the lagoon of turquoise sea with white sand. The setting was magnificent; a predator was chasing a shoal of fish which were taking evasive action by jumping out of the water. This was probably the best bar in the world, the vodka was delicious even if the coke was warm. 

Mark set off to find cold mixers and I took the snorkel to see if the universe was going to supply seafood for dinner, it didn’t?

Upon Marks return he had found not only more coke which was cold, but a camp for the gas plant on the island. He had spoken with the project manager and had organised a couple of tents for us. They came with air conditioning, on suite facilities and a patio overlooking the Indian Ocean. We were glamping! Hot water and warm beds, the universe was looking after us after all. 

A trip into the local village and a bar was found and a couple of cold beers enjoyed. We were informed the establishment had no food but with a little persuasion they agreed to see what they could do. I bought the young lady who was helping us a beer for her trouble, she smiled nicely and after sending one of the other girls off for food, and she came and joined us at our table.

Jasmine and I enjoying a Cold Beer

Now my Swahili is non-existent but it soon became apparent I had made a friend for the evening, as Jasmine had taken an exceptional shine to me, all for the price of a beer, I had a look around the establishment we had entered. There were a larger group than one would expect of girls in the bar, and a number of rooms in the corner which seemed to be available by the hour. We had stumbled across a bordello. Certainly on the island for the gas plant workers whose tents we were going to sleep in that night.

After eating the food which turned out to be a local delicacy, a chip omelette, we headed back to the camp for a restful evenings sleep. The previous night we had dined with Princes and tonight with whores, this adventure was just more and more interesting, what would the universe serve up for us tomorrow?