Watusi Woman - Merciless Java Sea Sailor

The Java Sea. Again. It sure knows how to throw crappy weather at us. Last time I wrote about it we had gone through a horrible storm that had me hanging on for dear life on the floor of the cockpit.

This time the Java sea gave us the long drawn out version of it. We had a total of 280nm from Kumai in Borneo to Belitung Island to do. The first 2 days were day sailing for approximately 55 nautical miles each day and anchoring up each night. Then 170nm non-stop which should have been around 34 hours. Should have been.

The rain slashed down just as we were ready to pull up anchor to start this non-stop part of the voyage. Oh joy. It didn't bode well for the journey, and it didn't get better. It was like being in a washing machine, for hours and hours. And days. With the current against us and the wind on the nose (coming straight at us) we were pushing 2 knots per hour using the motor. At this speed it I estimated it would take us about 72 hours to cover the miles. We had enough fuel for about 50 hours. The calculations were racing through my mind and not giving me the figures I wanted to see. Checking the charts brought no joy. We were doing a sea crossing. There was nowhere to go except Belitung. Turning back wasn't an option as we were already 130 nautical miles from the last fuel stop. We needed either a break in the weather, a drop in current or the wind to shift around.

We got none of the above.

What we did get was many squalls, high seas and strong winds head on. The first night, which should have been the only night, a squall hit without warning. It's hard to see them coming when it's pitch black already. The winds picked up very quickly and hurled the rain at us. So, soaking wet yet again, I was frantically winching the headsail in to reduce how much wind the sails were catching while Hubby manned the helm.

Once that passed I grabbed some sleep and completely missed the next storm front that shut down our auto pilot. Poor Hubby was on the helm for nearly 2 hours, just praying I'd wake up soon. I was woken, not by him calling me, but by the sound of water smashing onto the hatch above my head from the waves that were breaking over the bow. Good times. Hubby finally could get off the helm and sort out the auto pilot.

With daylight came more squalls. The wind and high seas never abated and the current continued just as strongly as the day before. We checked the fuel situation. Hubby retrieved 2 of our 20 litre jerry cans from the bow. The same bow that was dipping in and out of the water with every wave we hit. Scary stuff watching him, safety line clipped on, as he struggled to undo the ropes holding the cans in place whilst holding himself in place. My heart was in my mouth as he shuffled back to the cockpit on the slippery deck, one jerry can at a time.

Going up

And going down

The morning dragged on with the mainsail up, two reefs in it, trying to motorsail to push us along at a better speed, all to no avail. 2 knots was the best we could get in the conditions we were in. With only one jerry can in reserve and roughly 40 litres left in the tank the decision was made to cut the motor, conserve the fuel and sail with long tacks to try to get angle on the winds to get to our destination. We were totally at the mercy of the weather now. Like flotsam, we were pushed and pulled around as we bobbed in the waves and the swell.

Unfortunately, it was a case of two steps forward, one and three quarter steps back. Sailing north worked well, but we needed to go north west. We just couldn't catch a break. Whenever we tacked southwest the wind seemed to swing too close to the nose to allow us to make any westward progress. Often the speed we were doing dropped down to zero. I guess we were lucky it didn't record a minus figure. That would have been even more demoralising. We were 32 hours in and making great progress towards the South China Sea and Vietnam! 🤔

heading north with a great speed of 3.1 kn, straight into oncoming storms as shown on the radar

2nd night's stunning sunset that gave us hope for a good day the next day

That second evening gave us a glorious sunset and dolphins swimming alongside us. You know what they say about a red sky at night being a sailor's delight? And dolphins are always good luck as far as I'm concerned. Watching them allowed us to forget about the issues we were dealing with and the anxiety over how and when we might sight land. So, feeling more positive, we anticipated a good day the next day and the hope that we would be dropping anchor at Belitung before sunset.

That night, the second night, Hubby was catching some much needed shut-eye when another storm hit. 1.30am and the auto pilot failed, the rudder jammed and the boat did a 360° manoeuvre while I yelled for help. Hubby took the helm, did another couple of those fancy 360s - just to prove he could do that too- then the rudder unjammed and the auto pilot consented to work again. Not sure if we had caught a net or some rubbish, either was possible. Poor Hubby, just 30 minutes into a sleep and he was fully awake again.

The new day didn't bring calm seas after all our positive thoughts. The worst storm yet hit us not long after sunrise. Hubby quickly cranked up the motor to help with steering. Winds up to 41 knots hit us head on. We had a near knock down, as the boat heeled over so far the mast was almost at water level. We were both crouched in the cockpit, Hubby managing the mainsheet (mainsail ropes) to try to ease the force on the boat, and me literally petrified, frozen in place. I've since earned the nickname 'Groot' from my oh so compassionate husband. (You know, petrified, like wood? Movie reference to Guardians of the Galaxy) Tears of fear mixed with the rain running down my face whilst I clung on with my hands, elbows, knees and feet. The storm kept up that intensity for about 20mins or so. Same storm lasted alot longer but we managed 1 to 2 knots once the wind backed off to 18-20kn.

By this time we estimated we had about 6 to 8 hours of fuel left. We made the decision to motor to the nearest island to the west of us that might be populated. Pulau Nangka was about 10 miles away so, at a pathetically slow speed and with our fingers crossed that the fuel would last, we motored west. We made it with little to spare in the tank. We anchored up in a calm bay on the northeast side to find no village at all. We were stuck here until we could either flag down a fishing vessel to get fuel or the wind changed to a lovely southeasterly. Could be a day, could be a week.

By this time we had been at sea from our last anchorage for 53 hours and had done 198 nautical miles. And we were still 55 nm from our destination. So much for 170nm and 34 hours at sea.

After Hubby had a decent nap we had a chat about our options. Food and water weren't a problem thank goodness. Hubby kept the AIS and radar on so we could see if there were other boats in the area. By late afternoon a sailing vessel showed up on the system and responded to our radio call. In English. Yaay!! They immediately offered to come to our assistance and changed course for our anchorage. Seeing catamaran Deo Juvante motor into the bay was bloody brilliant! We both heaved a huge sigh of relief, our problems had just been solved. And Paul and Eugenie had just become our new best friends. Bless their good hearts and plentiful fuel supplies.

So, a good night's sleep, 60 litres of borrowed fuel and an early start for the final 55nm to get to our destination. Deo Juvante also used their satellite phone to send an email to our fellow rally yachties to let them know we were safe and on our way. We had lost contact with everyone by lunchtime on day two. This was day four so there was some concern about us.

sunrise behind Deo Juvante, our saviours

It was a smooth motoring day. The storms had gone, the sea was flat and the wind was light. Still on the nose, along with the current, but we were averaging 3.9 knots. There were 65 fishing boats around us as we covered the last 8nm to the Belitung anchorage at dusk. Most, but not all, had lights on. Then there was the added challenge of navigating in the dark past small rock islands, shallow reefs, and other yachts anchored. We couldn't let the last leg of what had become an epic journey be too easy now.
Thanks go to our mates off Tregoning who jumped in their dinghy with a powerful spotlight and guided us into the anchor spot they had saved us.

So, to sum up, a 170 nautical mile and 34 hour non-stop overnight sail became 251 nautical miles and 86 hours of adversity at the mercy of the treacherous Java Sea.

My Captain says I am a true sailor now, seasoned and christened in saltwater.

Until next time, Watusi Woman - Epic Sailor, out.