Gulf of Aden
Tension mounts amidst the cruising fleet as the yachts in Salalah prepare for the next passage. The Gulf of Aden, between Yemen and Somalia, is known by some as "pirate alley". The pirates target ships primarily but a few yachts have been boarded over the years. Most cruisers sail through this area in groups.
We leave Oman March 9 in company with four other boats, heading for Aden--a distance of 640 miles. We agree to a minimum speed and staying within sight of one another, closing ranks at night. This turns out to be very stressful. Five yachts, five captains, five differing ideas of how to proceed. We vow not to do this again.
Ships prove to be a greater danger than pirates on this passage. One of our group spots a nuclear submarine as it surfaces heading in our direction. It is a British sub so a British yacht travelling with us calls them on the VHF. No answer. They want to remain incognito. The sub passes within a mile of us. Later that day an Evergreen container ship passes between Moonshadow and another yacht, less than half a mile from each of us.
Motorsailing one night at about 0400 hours a ship going the opposite direction turns and passes between us and the yacht ahead of us. My perception at night is not so good but I could see that the ship was getting too close. I shout for Richard who is sleeping below. He leaps out into the cockpit and throws the engine into reverse. As the enormous dark shape looms above us and silently glides past we are splashed by its stern wave. When his hearbeat resumes Richard calls the ship on the VHF. The person answering says that they did not see either yacht.
Two days out of Aden I am feeling ill and have a high fever. Fearing malaria we put out a medical emergency call on the VHF. A voice booms in from the Queen Mary II and they summon the ship's doctor to the bridge. He cannot diagnose malaria without a blood test so he advises us to treat the illness as malaria and get to Aden as quickly as possible. Monte Cristo, a French-Canadian yacht, volunteers to cut away from the group and travel with us. We make good speed, helped along by favorable winds, and arrive at Aden just before dark on March 14. By this time my temperature has gone down and I am feeling better. An Australian doctor, travelling with her family aboard the yacht Vagabond Heart, dinghies over to see me and decides that I do not have malaria but probably some kind of viral infection. Over the next few days several other cruisers are down with similar symptoms.
We unwittingly anchor just off the Sailors' Club and Restaurant, a source of loud music lasting until 3 am. We soon figure out that the place is a bordello. Going ashore to clear into Yemen, Richard meets Hamzah, a young man born in Yemen but of Indian parentage. Hamzah is a university student soon to receive a BA in English literature and translation. He is studying Beowulf and Shakespeare. When cruising boats come to Aden he offers his services as a guide or for whatever help might be needed. In the evening Richard goes with Hamzah to Arab town and to a Somali refugee camp. Boat loads of people arrive in Yemen with the hope that soon the violence in Somalia will end and they can return home.
Walking through town in Aden we are greeted with "welcome to Yemen" over and over again. People want to talk to us, perhaps to practice their English. Unlike Oman, we see women on the street here--still covered in black except for the Somali women who wear a headscarf but do not cover their faces. In the afternoons it seems that most of the Yemini men sit on the curbs, sidewalks or wherever to chew Qat, the national narcotic. These green leaves come from a small bush which as a crop takes up valuable land and uses scarce water which would be better used to grow food.
One day I go with Hamzah to the Egyptian embassy to apply for visas. Hanzah does some fast talking to convince them we need the visas today. Richard and I return to pick them up late in the afternoon. We then go on to Aden Mall and a huge Lulu's Supermarket to do some provisioning. In the mall is shop after shop displaying beautiful gowns and party dresses. I ask Hamzah "Who wears these"? He tells me the Yemeni women wear them inside their homes for family parties or for women's parties.
Before we leave Aden, Richard pays a visit to the harbormaster. In the port control tower the commander of British forces in the gulf is watching two British warships enter the harbor. He tells Richard that Salalah harbor in Oman is a much more secure port than Aden, which was the site of the attack on the USS Cole in 2000.
Our last impression of the Yemeni people is provided by a money changer. Exchanging our remaining rials into U.S. dollars, Richard is handed a few Yemeni coins. He tells the man we can't use them and he should keep them. The money changer tells him "No, you give them to the street people."
We leave Oman March 9 in company with four other boats, heading for Aden--a distance of 640 miles. We agree to a minimum speed and staying within sight of one another, closing ranks at night. This turns out to be very stressful. Five yachts, five captains, five differing ideas of how to proceed. We vow not to do this again.
Ships prove to be a greater danger than pirates on this passage. One of our group spots a nuclear submarine as it surfaces heading in our direction. It is a British sub so a British yacht travelling with us calls them on the VHF. No answer. They want to remain incognito. The sub passes within a mile of us. Later that day an Evergreen container ship passes between Moonshadow and another yacht, less than half a mile from each of us.
Motorsailing one night at about 0400 hours a ship going the opposite direction turns and passes between us and the yacht ahead of us. My perception at night is not so good but I could see that the ship was getting too close. I shout for Richard who is sleeping below. He leaps out into the cockpit and throws the engine into reverse. As the enormous dark shape looms above us and silently glides past we are splashed by its stern wave. When his hearbeat resumes Richard calls the ship on the VHF. The person answering says that they did not see either yacht.
Two days out of Aden I am feeling ill and have a high fever. Fearing malaria we put out a medical emergency call on the VHF. A voice booms in from the Queen Mary II and they summon the ship's doctor to the bridge. He cannot diagnose malaria without a blood test so he advises us to treat the illness as malaria and get to Aden as quickly as possible. Monte Cristo, a French-Canadian yacht, volunteers to cut away from the group and travel with us. We make good speed, helped along by favorable winds, and arrive at Aden just before dark on March 14. By this time my temperature has gone down and I am feeling better. An Australian doctor, travelling with her family aboard the yacht Vagabond Heart, dinghies over to see me and decides that I do not have malaria but probably some kind of viral infection. Over the next few days several other cruisers are down with similar symptoms.
We unwittingly anchor just off the Sailors' Club and Restaurant, a source of loud music lasting until 3 am. We soon figure out that the place is a bordello. Going ashore to clear into Yemen, Richard meets Hamzah, a young man born in Yemen but of Indian parentage. Hamzah is a university student soon to receive a BA in English literature and translation. He is studying Beowulf and Shakespeare. When cruising boats come to Aden he offers his services as a guide or for whatever help might be needed. In the evening Richard goes with Hamzah to Arab town and to a Somali refugee camp. Boat loads of people arrive in Yemen with the hope that soon the violence in Somalia will end and they can return home.
Walking through town in Aden we are greeted with "welcome to Yemen" over and over again. People want to talk to us, perhaps to practice their English. Unlike Oman, we see women on the street here--still covered in black except for the Somali women who wear a headscarf but do not cover their faces. In the afternoons it seems that most of the Yemini men sit on the curbs, sidewalks or wherever to chew Qat, the national narcotic. These green leaves come from a small bush which as a crop takes up valuable land and uses scarce water which would be better used to grow food.
One day I go with Hamzah to the Egyptian embassy to apply for visas. Hanzah does some fast talking to convince them we need the visas today. Richard and I return to pick them up late in the afternoon. We then go on to Aden Mall and a huge Lulu's Supermarket to do some provisioning. In the mall is shop after shop displaying beautiful gowns and party dresses. I ask Hamzah "Who wears these"? He tells me the Yemeni women wear them inside their homes for family parties or for women's parties.
Before we leave Aden, Richard pays a visit to the harbormaster. In the port control tower the commander of British forces in the gulf is watching two British warships enter the harbor. He tells Richard that Salalah harbor in Oman is a much more secure port than Aden, which was the site of the attack on the USS Cole in 2000.
Our last impression of the Yemeni people is provided by a money changer. Exchanging our remaining rials into U.S. dollars, Richard is handed a few Yemeni coins. He tells the man we can't use them and he should keep them. The money changer tells him "No, you give them to the street people."
posted by Anita @ 1:11 AM
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