After much deliberation, we finally decided in Darwin that we were not going to Asia. We would miss out on an exciting cruising area but due to the pandemic, we were running out of time. We had spent an extra year in New Zealand – the year we had originally planned for Asia. Instead, we would sail to South Africa, about 6,000 miles from Darwin. The approaching hurricane season in the southern Indian Ocean determined how much time we would have: just three months for Sailing the Indian Ocean.

‘That means a lot of sailing,’ Ivar calculated. ‘But we’ll make time to visit islands along the way,’ Floris added. Indeed, the islands would have to be the bright spots, as the Indian Ocean is not well-known for its champagne sailing.

Our long trip started comfortably, with the wind and swell from astern and minimal shipping traffic. After five days of happy sailing, a green dot appeared on our plotter: Ashmore Reef. The uninhabited nature reserve is largely underwater but offers shelter from the ocean swell. Perfect for a break! We manoeuvred through a narrow opening while breaking waves on either side marked treacherous reefs. In the sheltered lagoon we tied our Buchanan ketch Lucipara 2 to a mooring buoy near a sandy island with low vegetation.

‘Uninhabited? Just look around!’ Floris joked. Thousands of birds sat in shallow water, between the bushes, and on the beach. Frigatebirds, gannets and terns circled above our heads, as curious about us as we were about them, before returning to nests with fluffy chicks. Clearly, we were guests in a spot of unspoilt nature that very few people visit each year.

After a few days of admiring birds and snorkelling in pristine waters, it was time to leave for the next leg. A steady southeasterly trade wind propelled us forward for the next thousand miles. However, as the distance to continental Australia increased, so did a southwesterly swell. It was caused by a depression south of us and clashed with the wind waves from behind.

The effect was that Luci rolled incessantly, only interrupted by immense breakers that dumped buckets of water on deck. Bathroom breaks, cooking, sitting, and sleeping; everything took an effort. It was tiresome, but at least we went fast. Hugely assisted by the west-going sea current, we covered more than 170 miles each day.

Sailing the Indian Ocean – Plastic on Christmas Island

The war of attrition abruptly ended when Christmas Island appeared in the first morning light of our eighth day. Our moods changed from exhausted to excited. Lush green mountains, interrupted only by a phosphate terminal, begged for a closer inspection. We left Luci at a mooring buoy in Flying Fish Cove, the only sheltered bay, and started exploring. We walked past buildings clearly meant to house labourers, then a mosque, a Chinese restaurant, and various small temples. Most people we encountered had an Asian appearance and the street signs were in English and Malay – many Asians came to work in the phosphate industry.

We next hiked through a forest which teemed with red crabs. Each December, they famously take over the roads to migrate to the ocean, but here they were munching peacefully on leaves. When we reached the east coast, we gazed at a breathtaking beach. But on closer inspection, we were shocked. Huge amounts of plastic covered
the shoreline and floated in the sea. Coconut crabs foraged among the debris.

‘And to think that 95% of ocean plastic sinks,’ Ivar said. ‘Ocean plastic is like a ticking time bomb, waiting to poison our food chain with microplastics as it disintegrates.’ We sighed as we filled large bags with plastic, a never-ending task even on this beach. ‘This complex problem will have to be addressed at the source,’ Floris assessed.

A week passed before we let the trade winds fill our sails again. We continued where we left off, enduring uncomfortable but fast sailing. After four long days, Ivar spotted palm trees on the horizon – the Cocos (Keeling) Islands. As flat as a pancake, the islands and surrounding reefs form a vast lagoon in which we longed to relax. At Direction Island we dropped the anchor and watched it fall onto the sand 10 metres below us. The azure blue water teemed with colourful fish and sea turtles. Snow-white beaches and tall coconut trees lured us ashore.

By kayak we paddled two miles to neighbouring Home Island, where the descendants of Asian coconut plantation workers live. We landed near the local cemetery, which had a wall of sandbags around it to protect the graves from rising sea levels. Uprooted coconut trees on the adjacent beach confirmed the danger. Hurricanes, becoming ever stronger as sea temperatures rise, also threaten these low-lying islands.

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A Disturbing Tropical Depression

With a large supply of coconuts, we soon continued our passage westward. The trade winds blew with force, the sun shone brightly, and the weather forecast promised 10 days of the same. Yet just two days later a tropical depression north of us did not adhere to the seasonal patterns and weather models. The low deepened quickly and headed our way. What to do?

Weather guru Des Cason came to the rescue. ‘Head further south and keep your speed, so you stay ahead of the worst weather,’ he advised. Soon the first thunderstorms arrived and we reefed our sails.

The wind shot up to 40 knots, the rain poured from the sky and the dividing line between sea and sky disappeared. While one shower after another passed, Luci still tossed us back and forth due to the persistent cross-swell. ‘How miserable is this Indian Ocean,’ Floris exclaimed.

After a few days the sun cautiously appeared again. We had escaped the worst and continued to sail fast towards Rodrigues Island, east of Mauritius and part of the territory, until we finally dropped the hook in Port Mathurin. Never were we happier to stretch our sea legs. The friendly vibe in town contributed to our good moods. No one seemed to be in a hurry, people chatted and welcomed us in French. Big shops, hotels and restaurants were absent.

Although the island is part of the country of Mauritius, it has a strong identity of its own. We saw residents leading an independent life, building their own houses, and growing fruit and vegetables themselves. Sat on a pristine beach we watched traditional sailing kayaks painted in bright colours crossing an azure lagoon. It felt like we had travelled a few centuries back in time.

Sadly, the island’s past is less idyllic. Almost all residents are descended from enslaved Africans. Nature was abused, too. Crews of passing ships devoured the local turtles down to the very last specimen. It was only 20 years ago that nature lovers initiated a change. In a reserve they ‘rewilded’ Rodrigues by returning the flora and fauna to their original state. They planted native trees and shrubs and reintroduced relatives of the extinct turtles. Since then, the turtle population has grown steadily. The rewilded sanctuary gave us an impression of what the entire island once looked like.

We departed for Mauritius, 500 miles downwind, when the cross-swell was only moderate. Finally a (comparatively) comfortable trip! After we moored at the town quay of the capital Port Louis, we met a young couple who showed us their island’s favourite spots, including a huge Hindu pilgrimage site, a bird sanctuary, and the last remaining original forest. All over the island we sensed a pleasant bustle.

The diversity of cultures was striking. People of European, African, Indian, and Chinese descent lived side by side. The same applied to religion. We visited churches, mosques, and Hindu temples. Despite their differences, the 1.3 million inhabitants seem to share the island peacefully. ‘We are a rainbow country,’ our new friends explained.

French with a Tropical Touch

Reaching neighbouring La Réunion only required an overnight sail. From afar the island’s gigantic cone shape betrayed its volcanic origin. The highest peak towers 3,000 metres above the sea, which is a dizzying four kilometres next to the coast. The island is an overseas département of France, and it showed. The language, bakeries, cars, and road signs, all were distinctly French. At the same time, it felt exotic because of the tropical landscape, high temperature, and mixed population.

To explore the interior, we followed a river with vertical rock walls on either side. Upstream, we entered one of three cirques – craters that formed after parts of the volcano collapsed. Suddenly we were in a gigantic bowl with a lovely village in the middle. The walls were bright green and waterfalls plunged into the depths. We gazed in awe and tried to imagine the forces of nature that once shaped this landscape. A day later we got the answer on the next excursion: an active, fire-breathing volcano and spectacular lava landscape.

Monster waves

Back on board, tensions were rising. The upcoming passage to South Africa was perhaps going to be the most challenging of our circumnavigation. Weather reports would not be reliable to cover the time it would take us to cover 1,200 miles. In addition, we were faced with the powerful Agulhas current.

It flows southwards along the South African east coast and, if combined with a storm depression, can cause life-threatening monster waves. When we checked out and hoisted the sails, we were a bit nervous. Would we be spared the destructive forces of nature in these infamous waters?

The experiences of other sailors did not reassure us. No one seemed to have reached the South African coast without encountering at least one depression. Fortunately, Des once again helped us interpret the weather information and determine our tactic.

We followed his advice to stay well clear of Madagascar’s southern cape to avoid an acceleration zone. We still had very strong winds but Luci proved up to the task. In the Mozambique Channel, Des kept an eye on depressions approaching from the south. The idea was that in such a case we could move north where the fronts lose strength. Twice a day we checked the weather forecast and emails, but to our great relief we escaped the depression dance.

By the time we reached the Agulhas current, a calm southerly wind blew. ‘Nothing to worry about,’ Des reassured us. We sailed smoothly towards the coast, steering a little further north to compensate for the southbound current. A few miles before Richards Bay, a humpback whale surfaced next to the boat. It exhaled, as if the magnificent creature welcomed us to South Africa.

Thanks to Natasha, a helpful member of the Zululand Yacht Club, we swiftly cleared customs and found a suitable berth. At the reception party, the commodore extended a warm welcome. He even handed us a bottle of sparkling wine! While we toasted with the other sailors, agile monkeys preyed on leftovers and noisy ibises flew overhead. We were definitely in Africa! We felt euphoric. We had achieved our goal of sailing here before the hurricane season. What remained were special memories of the unique islands in the Indian Ocean with their diverse cultures, moving histories, and contemporary challenges.

Useful Information for sailing the Indian Ocean

Clearance and formalities

In a world of rapidly changing rules, cruiser website noonsite.com is our anchor for up-to-date procedures. A rich source of information for South Africa and the surrounding area is osasa.org.za. We also use NoForeignLand (website and app) and Facebook and WhatsApp groups.

Tactics and weather

Due to the climate crisis, the atmosphere and oceans are warming. As a result, weather patterns are becoming less consistent and storms and showers are becoming more intense. Still, we continue to base our tactics on Jimmy Cornell’s World Cruising Routes. These days we have great tools to get good (short-term) weather forecasts. We use Windy when we are online and Predictwind with our Iridium GO! when we are at sea. Windy also has good information about sea currents and (cross) swells. Des Cason (sygambit@gmail.com), a retired sailor, helps many yachts through the Indian Ocean with weather and routing information.

Navigation and sailing guides

We use a Raymarine plotter with Navionics charts, which is linked to the onboard GPS, AIS, and radar. We also use the Navionics app on a tablet and smartphones.
We consulted the following sailing guides: Indian Ocean Cruising Guide (Rod Heikell, Imray), and The Indian Ocean Crossing Compendium (via svsoggypaws.com/files).

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