>Approximately 40 miles due east of Dar es Salaam lies a desolate speck of an >isle called Latham. This isle rises only a few feet out of the Indian Ocean >and if you leave Dar by boat and miss Latham, the next land east is Indonesia. > >Latham always has large birds circling above it. When these birds are not >circling, they are shrieking and dive bombing. The vegetation on the island is >sparse and gnarled and covered with guano. This contrasts sharply with the >spectacular reef that surrounds the isle and which teems with all kinds of >marine life. At low tide, the coral reefs are just three or four feet under >water. This also means that when the sea is rough, a swell easily lifts a boat >8 ft and then crashes it onto the coral, which effortlessly rips into the >bottom of boats. The reef, also teeming with colour, ends with an underwater >cliff that drops sharply into the darkness of the ocean. > >This underwater cliff causes ocean currents in the area to rise and mix. The >mixing of currents, with the nutrients in them, makes the area around Latham a >haven for the sports fisherman. Every fish species found in the area, is twice >as big and sometimes three times as big as the largest of that species you >have seen at the Kigamboni fish market. > >In the 1980's, we would head to Latham on fishing expeditions whenever we had >gathered enough people to share the expenses of hiring a Seafaris boat. The >game plan was simple. The Seafaris boat would leave its base at Kunduchi Beach >Hotel on a Friday morning and moor at the jetty in front of St. Josephs by >mid-afternoon. Everyone going on the trip would leave work early, walk down to >the jetty and if all went well, we would exit Dar harbour at 5.00 pm. With the >right current and wind, we would see the birds flying over Latham just before >sunset. > >In those days, i.e. before GPS, we always hired a local fisherman as a guide. >The local fisherman would navigate on his knowledge of the time of the year, >i.e. the wave direction, the wind and the currents. This guide would get us to >Latham by also passing over the best fishing lanes in-between. This meant that >we usually had some fun on the way, allowing the least experienced person on >board the chance to reel up dinner. Hooking and landing a good sized fish >though, would slow the boat and at times we would arrive at Latham just past >dusk. If the seas turned choppy, we were in for a topsy-turvy night. > >One Friday morning I packed my sleeping bag and headed to work confident that >the impending fishing trip would be a real adventure. Little did I know then, >how much of an adventure the trip would be. Well, it started raining the >moment I stepped out of the house. It poured all the way to work and rained >constantly for the next five hours. Then, a cold wind picked up. As I started >walking down to the jetty in the late afternoon, I observed dark, heavy clouds >rolling ominously from the interior and heading towards the sea. That, alone, >should have been enough of a warning as cloud's laden with moisture always >rolled in the opposite direction. > >Despite this anomaly, there were three or four extra people waiting by the >boat at the jetty. These extra people had chosen the worst day of the year to >go out deep sea fishing. I recognized one of the 'extra's' as a real clown and >another as a person who could really hold his drink. What we were not sure of >though, was if these 'extra's' had good sea legs. Needless to say, those >without sea legs get seasick easily. It is no fun having pale faced strangers >on board begging for the boat to return, the moment the sea gets their >stomachs churning. > >At 5.00 pm we headed out. > >We headed out into the damp darkness. The sun had disappeared without setting >and a choppy sea, complete with whitecaps, greeted us at the harbour exit. The >whitecaps were producing a cold spray which immediately seemed to trouble the >extra's aboard. Twenty minutes - instead of the usual hour - outside Dar, the >city lights disappeared. This was also when the waves really started to swirl >the boat. There is a strange group of people who will reach for a drink when >the sea get rough and believe me, that little Seafaris boat was filled with >strange people. > >Four miserable hours later, and all thoroughly wet, the boat was aimlessly >tossing around on a pitch dark part of the Indian Ocean. Since the clock >screamed that we should have been at Latham hours ago, one of the inebriated >ones mustered enough courage to ask our guide when we would to get to Latham. >To our surprise the guide replied, "I think we are lost, the waves are coming >from the wrong direction." > >While I was relishing this news, the inebriated one decided to take it one >step er, higher. He asked the Captain of the boat how much longer he thought >it would take to get there. Well, the captain of the Govt owned boat said that >he had not brought along his compass and did not know where we were! We later >would find out that the captain had also forgotten to bring along a full tank >of fuel and all the life jackets necessary for that boat. > >Towards midnight, when it was come abundantly clear that we were hopelessly >lost, one of the two still sober passengers aboard begged that we head back to >Dar. The guide, a man of few words, nodded and pointed to the captain to keep >heading in the direction the boat was going. No one had realized that the >guide had made the decision to head home a long time prior and what we could >not find now, believe it or not, was the African mainland. > >Two hours later, most aboard were in a restless sleep. Those who were not, >were weeping. The boat was now starting to twist and spin on every wave. The >lights on board had long gone past the flicker stage and were intermittent. >The wind, blowing through the boat, was almost at howling speed. > >The pilot and the captain remained calmly on their seats and were behaving as >though they went through such rough seas every day of the week. Despite the >loud music and the howling wind, they just kept their eyes focused ahead. The >thought then struck me that we could be in the busy shipping lane into Dar >harbour and visibility was just 10 ft. Imagination, and the fear it >introduces, can be more dangerous than reality, but it was reality that struck >the next blow. > >Out of nowhere, there was a sudden, loud thud. The propeller began to spin >agonizingly slower and sounded an octave lower. The captain informed us that >we had struck semi-submerged debris, or maybe a log. The propeller sounded >lower because the blades were damaged. In order to compensate for the power >lost by the damaged propeller, the captain increased the revs of the diesel >engine. A few minutes later the engine began to smoke. > >Inhaled diesel smoke mixed with sea spray produces some interesting results. >Some people get light headed. Others feel like throwing up. Yet others decide >to curl into a ball. Those who did curl up, were trying to shut of the world >while lying in a wet sleeping bag. This situation carried on for a few more >hours. > >Close to dawn, when we were nearly wiped out with exhaustion, I heard the >pilot tell the captain that he could hear the sound of waves crashing onto >land. I stretched my tired senses but could not see nor hear anything in the >pitch black night. The pilot then informed us that he felt we were too close >to the shore and asked to drop anchor and turn off the engine. > >When you start a diesel engine, it will normally run until you switch it of. >When you turn off a diesel engine, there are a plethora of reasons why it will >not start again. Some reasons are: water in the diesel, a dead battery or even >wet electrical connections. Despite this, we dropped anchor and the engine was >switched off. > >As dawn slowly crept in, we realized that we were just fifty meters away from >an exposed coral reef. Had we tried to go further, we would have destroyed the >boat. More intriguingly, the relief of the land, slowly appearing in the >distance, was not familiar to any of us. The captain, the pilot and others on >board who were very familiar with the Tanzanian shoreline could not even >venture to guess where we were. > >A short time later, we spotted a ngarawa heading out to sea. The fisherman was >hailed over and he informed us we were off the southeast coast of Zanzibar. We >were about 80 nautical miles from where we thought we would be! As we had the >boat for two more days, it was decided to head to a nearby island, anchor >there and hope we would not get caught. In those days, a boat from Dar needed >a permit to anchor in Zanzibari waters. > >The guide soon pointed out to an island that was about half a mile long. One >side had a beach of about 200 meters with dazzling white sand. The rest of the >island ended in 20 ft cliffs. The captain navigated the boat right up to the >sandy beach where we all jumped off, happy to be on land again. The captain >then took the boat to where he felt the water would be deep enough at the >lowest tide, dropped anchor and swam ashore. > >This was when the fun really began. > >A posse was sent to scavenge the beach for drift wood. In a few minutes, one >of the posse members spotted something in the sand and pulled out a bleached >human skull. He was told, in no uncertain terms, to drop the skull exactly >where he found it. The next big surprise came when we opened the 50 liter >container of fresh water. It was discovered that someone had used a plastic >container that was normally used for diesel, as the water container for this >trip. The liquid that poured out of the container smelt like it could be set >on fire. > >Nonetheless, a breakfast campfire was lit, a large blue tarp got rigged over >some low hanging branches and masala tea was prepared and served. Since the >corals we observed while approaching the island were among the most pristine >we had ever seen, the divers decided to go out and spear lunch for the >expedition. That dive was one of the most fruitful I have ever had and in a >short time we had a bounty of lobsters, large crabs and rock cods. When we >returned to shore, the few people who had decided to attack the cold beers >instead of trailing the divers announced that they were the volunteer barbecue >chefs for the day. They also informed us that their qualifications for being >so, was that they had peeled an entire bag of onions and that they were >weeping! The catch was reluctantly handed over with instructions that it >should not be served until the rest of the gang caught up to their level of >happiness. > >Just about the time lunch was served, the weather, which was kind of iffy, >began taking a turn for the worse. Since we had a damaged propeller, the >decision was made to leave at 3.00 pm for the two hour journey home. At 3.00 >pm, the Captain swam to the boat and discovered that the engine refused to >start. Afternoon passes, evening passes, it starts raining and the diesel >engine just does not want to start! The radio on board does not function >either and now no one in Dar knows where we are. We were left with no choice >but to sleep in the drizzle, amongst the sand flies, for the night. > >As we were foraging for firewood for the second time, a medical doctor was >spotting more human bones on the beach. He informed us that there were the >bones of at least two people and figured that they must have drowned and their >bodies got washed ashore. The bodies would then have been picked clean by >crabs and other sea creatures and that's why only the larger bones were left >to be seen, all scattered in the sand above the tide line. > >Not all were fully convinced with this explanation. The more religious in the >group were afraid that we were disturbing the spirits. The not so religious >introduced the idea that maybe this was the beach where people came to >dispatched their enemies. Both camps, however, were in agreement that we build >an extra large bonfire. > >By now, the vegetarians in the group were very hungry and extremely thirsty. >They had brought along dozens of cans of tomato soup, but no water. The only >water available was a few bottles of soda water. As the discussion grew on how >to prepare the soup, someone suggested that people usually add salt to their >soup and that if we used a 50/50 combination of soda and sea water, we would >get twice as much soup. Duh! Let me assure everyone that day I >learnt a very valuable lesson. I learnt that agreeing to drink anything laced >with sea water is the last dumb idea you will agree to. After that, you go >delirious with thirst. > >Thirty minutes after soup was served, the soup drinkers were behaving so >discordantly that it was clear the soup was special. The more adventurous, >those who were observing the soup drinkers, put their drinks aside and started >experimenting with small sips of the soup. In a short while, everyone was >dancing in the rain. Dancing in the rain with their tongues held out. At the >stroke of midnight, all those who had tasted the soup claimed to hear a low >growling sound. Then they started to hear some sputtering. The non-soup >drinkers could not hear any of those sounds. Finally someone associated the >sounds with that of a diesel engine. > >At first, the sober ones (myself not included) thought someone was borrowing >the boat. Then the captain hollered out from the mist, saying all was well. He >had removed the diesel filter, filled it with Johnny Walker and started the >engine. Everyone looked at each other, rushed and gathered their belongings, >scrambled waist deep into the cold waters and hauled themselves onto the boat. > >We got to within a few miles of the mainland when the fuel ran out. > >As we were slowly drifting on the neap tide, we could only but watch all the >beautiful lights of the tourists hotels twinkling on the shoreline. We could >almost see the silhouettes of the coconut trees gently swaying in front of the >white washed, luxury rooms. That is where we wanted to be. My last memory of >the trip was when someone announced that there were two skulls hidden in the >box where the flares should have been. > >While the destinations proved elusive, the journey, the journey was beyond >precious. > >http://www.flickr.com/photos/45002663@N00/1564814749 > >
