On Passage with Black Duck – Jibing through the Java Sea

I decided to write this story for those who wish to know what it is actually like to be onboard Black Duck when she is at sea. I have written it in a way that I think will give, even those who have never sailed before, an idea of what a passage entails, from the good to the bad and the funny moments.

We won’t resolve any great philosophical issues, but we will dwell for moments on some of the necessary routines we live by, the trials we are faced with, and the little silly ideas one might have when confronting the sea.
Maybe it will make you head for the hills, or maybe it will inspire you to dip your toes in the great unknown. Let’s find out.

And having said that, I hereby welcome you onboard Black Duck!

The Java Sea, Indonesia – 27 august 2022

We are leaving from Bawean Island, sailing northwest to Belitung Island, which lies to the southwest of Borneo. The route we have plotted is 392 nautical miles (726km), but we can expect it to be a little longer, as adjusting the course to the wind and avoiding obstacles might be necessary. The weather report predicts southeast Tradewinds blowing at 10-17 knots. The seas will peak at 1.2 meters, and the current should run with us most of the way at around 0.5 knots.
Based on this forecast, we estimate our arrival to be 4-6 days from now.

Day 1 – Sailing on tectonic plates

Only one day in and I already smell like an old boxing glove. But as we have not been ashore since Gili Asahan, we are on water rations, and there is none for a shower this early in the passage.

Black Duck carries 200 liters of water in tank for drinking, cooking, dishes, etc., and a further 100 liters in jerry cans for showering and topping up. If we really hold back on showers, we might make that last for a whole month. And if it rains, maybe even a little longer.

We pulled up anchor at first light. It was easy this time as we were anchored in only six meters. All through the eastern parts of Indonesia, the water has been deep, and we have had to anchor in up to 25 meters. On a manual anchor winch like ours, there is a big difference between lifting 25 and 6 meters off the ground.

But the shallow anchorages will be the norm from now on, just like they were in Australia. The reason for this is that we just sailed onto a new tectonic plate, the Sunda plate, which is an extension of the Asian Continental plate. The edge runs between Borneo and Sulawesi down the eastern point of Java. And in the matter of about 50 nautical miles, we have seen depths in the ocean rise from over 1000 meters (often 5000) to less than 100.

It is also along the edge of this plate that the Wallace Line runs (named so after the British Naturalist Alfred Russel Wallace). The Wallace Line is a faunal line which marks the divide between the Asian and Australian biogeographical zones. If we look closely, we might notice a change in the endemic flora and fauna.

It is hard not to get carried away with this new plate. I guess it is a sort of sailors’ fixation and quite a natural thing to speculate about the beneath when on the ocean. On land, at least, we think we know what we are standing on, but on the water, we can find ourselves floating 7km above the seabed, with a whole unknown world beneath us.

I remember reading that something like 80 percent of the ocean has not yet been explored. That sure allows for a whole lot of surprises.

So, knowing that we have made it onto the next plate, and are leaving behind the subduction zone, at which the plate is pushed under another, creating a long line of violent volcanos, well; it feels kind of good.

Back to our passage: Today, the wind was good, a little light, but enough to keep our speeds at around 4 knots under headsail. Our course was running exactly downwind, and we sacrificed comfort, not hoisting the mainsail in order to stick to it. This meant the boat was rolling from side to side with each wave, making moving about a challenge.

We started doing our watches early to get a bit of sleep behind us before the dark set in. You never know when you are both needed on deck, and the more rested you are, the better you will be equipped to deal with any surprises the night might bring. Besides, there is not much else to do onboard than sail, eat and sleep.

Our watch routines consist of three hours on and three off. This splits the night into four shifts, of which we each do two. During the day, the watches are a bit more flexible as we might share some hours eating, cooking, and reading.

This night granted a superb view of the Milky Way. You might not know this if you do not live under a clear night sky, but the sky is always full of wishes swooshing across the sky, sometimes even two at a time. While on watch, I was listening to a podcast about the making of a science fiction plot, and this might have been the cause of my imagination being drawn to the vision that the sky was portraying a cosmic fire battle with the stars in combat.

It was also on this night, on different occasions, that we both saw the biggest shooting star we have ever seen. It rushed across the sky, shot from its catapult, with a tail of fire drawing halfway across the visible Milky Way. For a second, I held my breath, waiting for the shock wave’s wall of fire and shattered earth, but luckily, it missed us.

The only sound in the night was everything on our shelves going ‘clunk, clunk’ as the boat rolled from side to side. Even after stuffing every shelf and drawer with my mother’s home-crocheted kitchen clothes, a new clunk would present itself as soon as my head hit the pillow. At least all sober sailors know the vexation one can feel at the persistent sound of an inconsistent clunking.

But then, suddenly, another sound broke the silence. A voice spoke frantically on the radio in a manner that we could not make out a word of what was said. He kept speaking like this for a while, until another voice, in an angry Russian accent, broke in and said: “Shut up, you fucking idiot” But he didn’t and we had to turn down the radio to silence the rant.

To those who do not know, the harsh reaction of the Russian Captain is somewhat justified., for there are strict rules regarding the use of VHF radio at sea, which seafarers must abide by. Everyone is standing by on channel 16. This is the emergency channel as well as the channel to contact everyone in your vicinity. Once you make contact on channel 16, you are supposed to agree on a different channel and then switch to that so that you are not in the way of everyone else needing to use channel 16.

However, this rule is often not followed in Indonesia, and you might even sometimes hear music come through this channel. We once listened to someone whistle on channel 16 for a whole hour, wondering if someone’s parrot might have learned to push the button on the radio.

Now I come to the end of our first day, I hope I have not bored you with too many humdrum anecdotes from the mundane life on a passage.

But last, I must close my account of the day the way we close it in our logbook, noting our progress. For in the end, that is what it really is all about: getting somewhere.

In the last 24 hours, we made 100nm, which is a little better than expected in these light winds. Remember, Black Duck is a heavy boat. And sailing with the credo that any more than backward is an accomplishment, I think we can call the day a great success.

Day 2 – Power shortage caused by bird pooh

There isn’t much to report from today. The wind stayed more or less the same, and our course ran in the same direction, only veering off slightly on occasion to have a manageable angle on the wind so as not to accidentally jibe.

Today went again without a shower. Our excuse being that it was too rolly to get a jerrycan out of the lazarette.
It should be mentioned that our shower onboard consists of an old watering can, which we use to water each other within the cockpit.

Anticipating the difficulty of cooking in a rolling sea, I had cooked a huge pot of vegan Bolognese sauce before leaving Bawean. For dinner, we had our fourth meal of this and finally finished it. Tomorrow I will take on the challenge of cooking a huge curry for our remaining time at sea.

Today, the sky was grey, and unfortunately, we saw little charge come from our solar panels. It did not help that a seabird had taken an enormous shit on the main panel, which we discovered too late in the day. As this is our only source of energy, a grey day like this at sea, when all our devices and lights are in use at night, can be a struggle. We therefore decided to run the engine for an hour during the night.

Fortunately this revealed an issue with our fan belt, a problem which has been ongoing. Misalignment is causing it to chafe, slowly chewing away the rubber and eventually breaking the fan belt. We stopped the engine and at 3am Riley went to work at it for two hours, trying again to realign it.

On this night the horizon was bright with the lights from hundreds of fishing boats, some of which we discovered to be on anchor in 50 meters depths and choppy seas. These Indonesian fishermen sure are cut from a different cloth.

We did not quite make a 100nm today, but we are still under sail, and time is what we are rich on.

Day 3 – collision with a flying fish

At ten o’clock, we got our first squall. I was on watch and had seen it coming for a while, so our headsail was already reefed to the size of a pair of speedos. My overcaution is a result of many experiences with vicious squalls. I have stopped taking chances and sometimes reef at the sight of a seabird. Am I paranoid? Well, a little paranoia has often turned out to spare the boat much damage.

Anyway, in the end, the squall wasn’t so bad, and soon, the skies cleared, and all was well.

I managed to cook a Massaman curry with all our leftover vegetables. This has to last for the rest of the trip. Unfortunately, I found it rather terrible, and I am dreading having to eat it four times. I also found a dead flying fish on the foredeck. What glum irony for a fish to die in a flying accident.

Then the sun went down, and a slither of moon hung briefly in the sky before disappearing behind the horizon. Clouds covered the sky, and the night turned black.

Oh, if you are not a sailor, cast no judgment, but today, we simply forgot to shower. However, I did use a facecloth behind my ears.

We are getting closer to Singapore and the fleet of cargoes is thickening.
Again, today, we did not quite manage to do a 100nm, and we can now rule out anything less than a five-day passage.

Day 4 – Waking to the change in sound

Today, we were hit by another squall, and as it carried a lot of rain, we saw an opportunity to finally have our much-needed shower. But just as we had finished soaping up, the rain stopped and left us cold and foamy. We rinsed with salt and agreed to sleep on towels for the rest of the trip.
They say comfort is important at sea; we know that, but it isn’t always so simple, and it is sometimes easier just to grow calluses.

Another thing which is important at sea, is to keep morale high onboard. Maybe this is not the case for everyone but speaking for myself I can say with confidence that it is easy to lose one’s mind, either to inflated giddiness or utter melancholy. So, it was a real stunt when Riley came out into the cockpit, presenting a huge bowl of popcorn coated in Maple Syrup. I have to mention that Maple Syrup is strictly for special occasions. It was, therefore, a little unfortunate when the popcorn, for some mysterious reason, turned out to taste like fish.

As the evening fell, we changed course westward, rounding the reefs off the NE of Belitung. We also saw land for the first time, a small island just visible through the grey haze. I often ask myself: What is more beautiful, the ocean viewed from land or land viewed from the ocean?

This new course was great. The southeast winds brought the boat further abeam, making it possible to finally hoist the mainsail. The boat steadied and sped up, and moving about suddenly became a whole lot easier. It was a welcomed relief to legs and feet after four days of standing at the helm doing aerobics in sync with the boat’s rolling.

We have by the way had ‘Blondie’ (named so as she was designed by Blondie Hastler) our windvane steering most of the time. But in a following sea, the boat tends to surf and slide down each wave, sometimes causing her to be knocked off course when Blondie might need a little assistance.

As night fell, the wind suddenly dropped out and with no pressure in the sails, the boat started rolling again. And then out of nowhere a strong westerly suddenly set in. This was bad news as we were heading due west at this point. And this is when we finally gave in and turned on the engine and started to motor against the weather, determined to make it to Belitung by the following afternoon.

For a few hours, the wind did not seem to change, and when a Cargo came close to our path, we decided to call him up on the radio and see if he might have a weather forecast. As we have had no internet connection for the last 4 days, our forecast is rather outdated.

“Heng Long, Heng Long, Heng Long, this is Sailing Vessel Black Duck, Black Duck on channel 16, do you copy?”

He copied Brack Duck, and we agreed to change to channel; what again? A mixture of poor sound quality and a very strong Chinese accent made it a little hard to get the number right, but after a few attempts and searching around the channels, we found him on channel 67. So, we asked him if he had a weather report, to which he gave a classic answer: “No, but the weather was good yesterday.” I guess Cargos aren’t burdened by the need to know the weather.

At 21.00, Riley took the second-night watch, and I went to sleep. After only a few days at sea, the body has completely adjusted to the new routine of sleeping in three-hour intervals and falling asleep, even with a 65-year-old tractor engine running at high revs next to your head, is as easily done as closing your eyes and counting a handful of sheep.

But this time, I did not get to sleep for three hours. At 23.00, I woke to a slight change in the sound of the engine, and once again, paranoia saved the day. The sound I could hear was a tapping sound accompanied by a faint squeaking. And if you haven’t already guessed it, it was a fanbelt getting ripped to shreds.

I yelled to Riley to go into neutral and rushed to turn off the engine with flashbacks to a horrible time off the coast of Sumbawa when our heat exchanger failed. Luckily, by this time, the west wind had died out, and the sea was calm. And with no propulsion from either propeller or sails, we seemed to stay in place, with enough sea room that we had time to go to work on the alternator.

And after about an hour, the gentle breeze set back in from the east, allowing us to move on our course at about 1.5 kt.
At this speed, our estimated time of arrival was 20 days from now.

As we were in the path of a few cargoes, we decided to call them up if they got close, to let them know that we had very limited maneuverability. Under traditional sea law, a vessel under sail has the right of way, but this has for long not been practiced in reality, and now it seems to be supposed that the little guy moves for the big guy. This is partly due to the fact that Cargoes have schedules and want to waste no time zigzagging around small pleasure crafts and fishing boats. But it is also important to recognize that they travel at very high speeds, burn an insane amount of fuel, and are very slow to turn. However, in our experience, it is not unusual that cargoes adjust their course a few degrees to pass us safely without obliging us to tack. Even short exchanges like this are nice after 4 days at sea, and the simple gesture of giving a little sea room suddenly feels immensely generous.

Eventually, Riley managed to get a new fanbelt on and align the alternator a little better. And soon, the engine was up and running again, and again, we were on track for arrival the next evening.

Today our progress was, well, progress at least.

Day 5 – blind navigating in a labyrinth of reef

The southeasterly came back this morning, and we are running under full main and headsail at about 5 knots. Oh, the pleasure of sailing, it must be one of the greatest leisure’s in the world. The sky is blue with little cotton buds dotting the horizon, the sun is mild, and the morning air is fresh and promising. We are on a beam reach and the sea is flat. I feel the water rustle past the rudder, and all memory of the night’s uneasiness is long forgotten.

On the fifth day, around 14.00, we arrived at the entrance to Tanjung Kelayang. In our Cruising Guide, Andy Scott compares the coast here to the British Virgin Islands, which might be on par, but I have never seen the British Virgin Islands.

Eyeball navigation is a must when approaching the anchorage as one must weave through countless coral bommies which are scattered like fallen beads all over the bay. Unfortunately for us, right at this moment, right above this bay, a huge squall was forming with heavy, black clouds making water visibility impossible. However, we had to get in now, or it would be too dark, and we would be forced to spend another night at sea, doing circles in front of the anchorage.

So, I went to the navigation table and scrutinized the satellite images. Based on the faint discolorations I could see on the images, I plotted a very precise route to the anchorage. With precise steering, a bit of luck, and prayers to the satellite gods, Bing and Google, we should make it in without running onto a reef.

At 16.20, we finally arrived and dropped anchor 8 meters behind another black boat, which later turned out to be an Italian couple we had met half a year earlier in a coffee shop in Ambon, 2000km away.

Now we will have a shower with extra soap, lower the dinghy in the water and go ashore to find a Nasi Goreng.

Thank you for being onboard with us, and I hope you come with us again next time as we continue north towards Malaysia, passing Singapore and crossing the busiest shipping channel in the world.

So long!

Black Duck’s final log of passage

TOTAL DISTANCE TRAVELED: 399nm
TIME UNDERWAY: 4 days, 10 hours
ENGINE HOURS: 15 hours
ESTIMATED FUEL CONSUMPTION: 25L
THINGS BROKEN: 1 fan belt and a pot handle

In memory of Paul and Edgar, the two flying fish who died in the making of this voyage.

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If you like what you read and want to hear more, you can follow Black Duck as we continue our voyages on FACEBOOK or here on blackduckatsea.com

Are you yourself sailing in Indonesia and want to see where we have anchored along the way, see Black Duck’s CRUISING INFO.