CoBoat Sailing (Mis)Adventure
Part 4: Arrested Abroad
CoBoat Sailing (Mis)Adventure is a 4-part series.
Read Part 1: Maldives to Thailand
Read Part 2: Rotten Inside & Out
Read Part 3: Man Overboard!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum! Eleven days in and I’m telling you, a stiff drink would not have gone astray at this point.
Day 12: Earlier, I mentioned we didn’t have the expected wind on our side, so we were constantly relying on our one remaining engine. Consequently, we were going through our fuel at a rapid clip.
To rectify the situation, the Captain (after deciding not to refuel in Sri Lanka) decided to “nip into the Nicobar Islands” and purchase fuel and eat an Indian curry. We were all pretty much in agreement re: this plan. Not only did we need the fuel, but we were also getting pretty hungry since most of our food had spoiled.
Where are the Nicobar Islands? Says everyone
What we didn’t know (but should have known) was that visiting the Nicobar Islands is prohibited. Not only is it restricted to all foreigners, but it’s also off-limits to most Indian nationals, too. Only Indian citizens with a special permit can visit.
Here’s the entry in the sailors’ bible, the Pilot Book, which we maybe should’ve read:
The Nicobar Islands are a sensitive maritime area in India with strict regulations on entry and anchorage, requiring official clearances from the Indian government.
No One Likes a Sneak
After nearly two weeks on the water, excited to see land and tempted by a flavorful meal, we approached Great Nicobar’s main harbor.
Upon approach, the Captain elected not to notify the Indian authorities on Channel 16, the marine radio reserved for distress calls and monitored 24 hours a day by coast guards around the world.
In hindsight, we should’ve radioed to let the authorities know that we were leaving international waters and entering their sovereign territory. But our plan was to sneak in instead.
As it turns out, sneaking in was never going to happen since the Indian Coast Guard intercepted us as soon as we crossed into their territory. Intercepted is, perhaps, too pleasant a term. We were boarded by the Indian Coast Guard with guns drawn.
As it happened, the Indian military was on high alert since it was August 14, the eve of India’s Independence Day. Because we were sneaking under the cover of darkness, they thought we were terrorists. Oops.
Under Arrest
As the Indian Coast Guard pulled alongside, they demanded to know if we had weapons aboard, how many people, and specifically, how many men were among us.
They boarded us, escorted our vessel into the harbor, and placed us under boat arrest while they interrogated us about our intentions.
The officials requested the passenger list, confiscated our passports, and asked to see the ship’s registration, which we didn’t have printed out since our registration was just transferred to Vanuatu the day we left Male.
Ineptitude Abounds
We explained that we had run out of fuel and our one engine was on its last legs—all true. What they repeatedly asked, though, was why we didn’t notify them of our distress and ask for assistance and permission to enter their waters. Excellent point, Indian Coast Guard.
Days 13-15: The next morning, the interrogations started again, but this time with a little less vehemence. In truth, they took pity on us after seeing the shape of our boat, bringing us freshly made samosas and sweets for breakfast.
You see, these Indian officials had quickly figured out exactly who we were: a bunch of bumbling idiots, woefully unprepared and attempting a cross-ocean sail. We were unmasked.
So instead of being angry, our captors were merely befuddled.
They couldn’t quite grasp that we were a bunch of strangers, all seemingly without jobs. The concept of a digital nomad was not translating at all. Nor was the fact that we had all just met on Facebook a few weeks ago, and then embarked on a 1500+ miles sail in a catamaran that was literally falling apart.
I have to say: Point 2, Indian Coast Guard. A remarkably accurate assessment of our situation.
No doubt the icing on the cake was the balloons in India’s national colors that we put up that morning in celebration of India’s national day. (Almost certainly my idea.) We really were just a bunch of hapless sailors instead of bandits or terrorists. Not threatening in the least. Merely foolish.
Our Prison Paradise
Because it was now India’s Independence Day, no business was being conducted. And the next day was Sunday, also a non-working day. So the paperwork for our release couldn’t start until Monday. We had time to kill.
We passed the time easily. Swimming within 50 feet of the boat (the permissible perimeter), dancing around the deck, watching movies at night under the stars, reading, napping, and even holding a few business strategy sessions. It was actually not too bad. The weather and views were perfect.
And our newfound friends, not only from the Coast Guard, but Immigration and the local police too, visited us regularly. They brought their wives and kids and even the island’s bus driver to see us.
We secured local celebrity status since the last boat to drift into their waters, piloted by 3 French sailors, was 9 months previously.
The local police chief even brought us a wild boar that had been illegally killed by poachers. With mainly vegetarians on the island (except for the poachers, I suppose), they had little use for the fresh meat. I think a pork stew was made.
Freedom!
Day 16: In record time—4 days—our Indian friends granted our freedom. With 11 signatures, including clearance from India’s Central Intelligence Agency, we were allowed to depart.
A huge high-five to Vin, who was an Indian national and therefore the one to negotiate our release. The only one allowed to disembark, he also telephoned his parents to get them to wire us money to buy more fuel and food. Champ!
As an aside, every time Vin called his folks, they asked him if he was being held hostage. He then had to explain to his parents, as well as to the Coast Guard, that we were just a bunch of idiots.
Before setting off, our captors allowed 5 of us, including the 3 women, to go ashore to stock up on food before we set sail. Loaded down with copious amounts of fresh fruits and vegetables (and junk food), we set off into the sunset.
With characteristic jubilance, we danced Bollywood style on the bow of the boat, celebrating our newfound liberty as we sailed away.
Day 17: Some of us were starting to miss our pre-booked flights home, so we hot-tailed it to Thailand. Some decent wind helped us along, and just before nightfall, we spied the Thai island of Phuket. Riding in on a decent-sized storm, we still arrived too late to clear immigration.
So we stopped just long enough to pick up another of the CoBoat owners and two cases of cold beer, and then sailed on through the night to arrive at the catamaran’s new home: Yacht Haven Harbor.
Crack On
We arrived just in the nick of time, with the main cabin showing a disturbing mid-line crack on that last day.
Entering dry dock, the worn-out old girl was to receive a complete overhaul, including new wind-powered engines, solar panels, satellite connections, and a total redesign of the cabins, galley, and communal areas. I was told the refurbishing would not just be a cosmetic facelift, but a total restructuring of the vessel.
Apparently, after more than two years in dry dock, the vessel was declared unseaworthy and retired. A fitting end to our 18-day adventure sailing across the Indian Ocean. All of us sailors and the boat arrived—just barely—in one piece.
CoBoat Sailing (Mis)Adventure is a 4-part series.
Read Part 1: Maldives to Thailand
Read Part 2: Rotten Inside & Out
Read Part 3: Man Overboard!
Lasting Impression
Throughout this 4-part series, I poked fun at all the mishaps that happened along the way. Although told in jest, in my opinion, there was a clear lack of concern for the crew’s comfort and safety from the get-go.
Some things were merely unhygienic, like the wet and moldy mattresses, broken toilets and showers, and cockroaches and mealy bugs in the food. Some were foolhardy, like swimming in open seas and deciding not to notify authorities when entering national borders.
Other incidents were far more serious, such as the broken autopilot and the bridge navigation instruments conking out one by one. This was a problem because the more experienced sailors had to take up the slack, spending hours on the bridge and straining to navigate in harsh conditions. This took its toll, and they were exhausted by the end of the trip.
Most of all, there was a lack of preparation from the beginning, including the fuel miscalculation, the decision to sail before fixing/installing/testing important pieces of equipment, and the fact that we headed to open waters without a proper safety demonstration, a man-over-board drill, or a tour of the boat.
That said, the crew was aces. I’ve never experienced such camaraderie, especially in trying circumstances. Not only was there no drama on board, but we all genuinely liked one another. Hence, the group hugs, movie nights, and heartfelt karaoke serenades.
There is no finer group of individuals I’d rather be stuck with at sea than these 7 compadres. I thank my lucky stars that we were the ones chosen to sail as the “Original Coboat Delivery Crew.”
I made friends for life, have a good tale to tell, and a righteous tan. All in all, not a bad way to cap off a summer adventure.
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Christened “Wander Woman” by National Geographic, Erin Michelson has traveled to 135 countries & all 7 continents. She is a professional speaker and author of the Nomad Life™ series of curated trips and travel guides, including the #1-ranked Explore the World with Nomads.
Want to read more about my adventures? Get the book “Adventures of a Nomad: 30 Inspirational Stories.”
