The Seychelles: Mahé and sailing the outer islands; December 22, 2022-January 4, 2023
This trip, perhaps more so than any in our past, seemed to present an unending series of problems to solve. The planning had involved more complexity and uncertainty than usual, which is saying a lot, so perhaps the preparation was a harbinger of things to come. But overcoming the obstacles one-by-one ultimately interleaved with many periods of fun and adventure, and we certainly weren’t feeling disappointed on the plane trip home.
After failing to reach Socotra Island we regrouped in Abu Dhabi and ended up heading to the Seychelles six days earlier than planned: Instead of dropping in for a quick week of sailing, we would spend a leisurely couple of days on land followed by a whopping eleven days on the boat. We were fortunate that we could quickly change our flights, find a hotel, and extend the sailboat rental.
Our bonus two days on the main island of Mahé gave us a chance to scout the sailboat provisioning logistics as well as take a few nice hikes — many of the same ones we took during a similar Seychelles land & sailboat itinerary in 2004 (no travelogues back then). The days went smoothly except when Tim was bitten by a dog, but once we located the owner she assured us the dog was healthy.
The day we took possession of the sailboat was tremendously hectic: shopping for groceries, beverages, and other supplies for 5 people x 11 days; driving more than an hour each way on tiny mountain roads to rent a surfboard for Emily; and absorbing the second major disappointment of the trip after Socotra: We were counting on unlimited scuba diving from the sailboat, having found a shop that would rent us tanks along with a small compressor to refill them; the compressor became even more important with the extension from 7 to 11 days. As Tim & Emily wheeled the rented compressor down the dock in a borrowed shopping cart, the boat company boss intercepted them, explaining that it wouldn’t work with the limited power systems on our boat. He was right — there had been a chain of miscommunications between our agent and the charter company about the feasibility of bringing a compressor aboard, and our primary sailboat activity was now in jeopardy. We returned the compressor to the dive shop, rented a few additional tanks, and crossed our fingers we’d find ways to get them filled.
Ours was a “bareboat” sailing charter, meaning we were on our own with no skipper or crew. We’ve done ten previous bareboat charters over the years, not counting the two months sailing in Thailand, India, and Burma during our year of travel. But only one of them was since 2008 — in Cape Verde in 2015–16. It’s certainly a different experience having five opinionated adults aboard instead of two parents calling all the shots, and with 11 days on a 38-foot catamaran we knew it would be close quarters, but also plenty of time to work out the kinks. The extended time also allowed us to take a more leisurely approach to our planned route: starting and ending on the main island of Mahé, but spending much of our time around the outer islands of Praslin, La Digue, and Curieuse, a 6-hour sail from Mahé.
First the plusses, and there were many:
Emily’s a surfer these days, so despite minimal information or infrastructure, we located a surfboard to rent just in case. As it turned out there were small but surf-able “reef breaks” near many of our anchorages; that activity ended up way better than expected.
As predicted, we quickly sucked all of the scuba tanks dry, but we managed to get them filled three times along the way (each one an island experience in itself); the diving too was better than anticipated. The snorkeling was excellent as well, with highlights being hundreds of mobula rays under the boat in one anchorage, a trio of large manta rays in another, and best of all swimming with a friendly whale shark for a couple of hours near a submerged seamount where we’d stopped to dive.
We rented a stand-up paddleboard which turned out to be a favorite for both Clara and Jennifer (once it was repaired; see below), Tim enjoyed bouldering on the iconic granite formations that line Seychelles beaches, and we took several nice hikes ashore. Clara agreed to serve as chef — no minor task in planning and execution — and the meals were far better than Jennifer’s cooking on past sailboat trips. We were lucky with the weather for this time of year, with many sunny days, only a few rain showers, and relatively calm seas but enough wind for sailing.
The third major setback of the trip occurred when our boat captain, a.k.a. Alex, woke up the first morning with a raging sore throat and assorted other symptoms. After several negative Covid tests and video calls with Jennifer’s MD sister (luckily we had good cell service most of the time on the boat) he went big with courses of antibiotics and steroids. It took several days for him to improve to the point of truly enjoying the trip, and although he was able to perform many of his captaining duties during that time, the rest of us stepped up with boat management more than we normally would have.
As for boat life, we already knew that everything seems to take longer than it should, and problems are to be expected especially on a trip of this length:
Although the stand-up paddleboard might seem like a nice-to-have, that ours had a broken paddle and fin rendering it unusable was a real disappointment. Many calls to the charter company and a multi-hour side-trip led us to meeting a “paddleboard technician” on a beach who brought parts and made the necessary repairs.
We knew we’d need to refill the boat’s freshwater tanks mid-trip, and there was just one dock on the outer islands offering that service. On arrival, with our water completely out, we were greeted with “sorry too busy today, no chance.” Tim’s persistence led us to a helpful nearby resident, Robert, whose broken-down boat sported a water hose from land that he used to replenish our supply. Robert also insisted on replacing our fishing lure (after which we caught our one and only fish of the trip, a very large one except a shark helped itself to the majority of it as we reeled it in). Robert was a wealth of information and had opinions about many topics Seychellois and otherwise — a true travel gem.
That same day, the “windlass” started to give out — that’s the motor that drops and lifts the anchor, critical on a boat the size of Papanga. More calls to the charter company were made, and miraculously another technician appeared while we were tied to Robert’s boat getting water. This one fixed not only the windlass, but also the rigging for the mainsail which had been installed incorrectly. A few days later the autopilot stopped working, which made the 6-hour sail back to Mahé quite the chore but not dangerous. Then one of the two engines gave out, which is dangerous. Following yet more charter company calls we were able to jury-rig temporary repairs to both of those malfunctions and successfully finish out the journey.
Our vacations aren’t normally relaxing and we wouldn’t want them to be. Would we have preferred fewer obstacles to overcome on this one? Certainly. Are we sorry that we tried to go to Socotra? No, although we don’t plan to make a third attempt. Did we make the most of our extra time on Mahé and the sailboat? Not a doubt. Lastly, did we learn any lessons for future trip planning and execution? We’re still thinking about that one; stay tuned.
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