"Sailing from Morondava to Tulear down the west coast will take about 8-10 days and you should be able to see migrating whales this time of year. Also you'll be fishing for dinner from the boat and the guides will also teach you to fish with a spear. You will be camping on the beach or in tiny villages remote villages that are only accessible from the sea."
This is how the trip was sold to me and it was for that sense of adventure that I paid what I found out later was an approximate 100°/o stupid vazaha premium. Part of the problem was that I was a bit naive about how much stuff should cost and part of the problem is that I booked my whole trip down the river and to the tsingy park and in the sea for one price and I did not consider that there would be many layers of intermediaries between the person I actually paid and the people actually providing the service.
Don't get me wrong my crew of Felix and Robert were generally competant sailors (though see below for incident) but their veiw of their role and my view couldn't have been more different. I viewed them as an adventure company providing me with an adventure to remote areas that I could not reach on my own and with the opportunity to see and do new things (like whales and spear fishing). They saw themselves as a taxi service. Getting me to the destination as quickly as possible was their primary objective, with their secondary objective of preparing my meals and answering every question with "Ca depend du vent."
Ca depend du vent (It depends on the wind)
Another problem I had with my crew was that they didn't speak french very well. I mean sure they knew some sailing and seafearing type words that I didn't but generally they spoke less french than me. The one thing they did know was how to tell me that if we were to make any progress at all it would depend on the wind. I'm no meteorologist, but I sort of knew that already given that our boat was a sail boat that with the wind was capable of 23.6 km/h and without, with only paddle power and the deadweight of a vazaha and his backpack of about 3.6 km/h.* As the voyage is over 270 kms wind would be integral.
The other thing that threw me is that, all year long, prevailing winds are from the south in the Mozambique Channel. It appears that everyone who I told this story to afterwards knew that already. So travelling south (into the wind) in a canoe is a major problem pretty much every time they do it. Which is probably why their french is so good when it comes to discussing the wind and the clouds is that they get lots of practice.
You'll note from the picture of Felix's sail that it is in pretty rough shape. The reason being is that it is a multi purpose tool and not just a sail. It is used for everything from a beach blanket to eat dinner, (Felix in particuar was a messy eater but hey, it's his sail) to a makeshift tent using the paddles as poles to bedsheets to shag girls in, though I only found out about this behaviour much later.
Certain things were as advertised though. The beaches we camped on were either amazingly remote and isolated or integrated into a little village that didn't see many vazahas. Also we did see whales and dolphins although they were quite far away (the sound of whale breath travels a remarkable distance over water) and my "taxi drivers" were not about to chase after them just so I could get a photo (see what I mean about not being on the same page). What's more was the fresh seafood every night for dinner including just about every type of fish and on one night crab (I couldn't help thinking that it would have been better if we had actually caught the fish instead of buying it from the local fishermen or whatever but it was extremely tasty however we came upon it).
The other thing that was as expected was that there was lots of free time. Sitting on a boat with two guys who answer all my questions with either "oui", "non" or "ca depend du vent" gave me a lot of time go get through some books I had recently acquired through the normal backpacker channels of "Hey, so you're leaving Madagascar tomorrow, have any books I could read?" In the course of my pirogue de mer journey I read 5 books. I haven't been counting but I think that just might exceed the total number of books read since I moved to London nearly 3 years ago.
The Incident
On day 6 as we were approaching Morombe, possibly the most unpleasant city in Madagascar**, the guys decided, despite the waves to keep the sail up and make full speed ahead for land. One problem, we are in a pirogue and full speed ahead is faster than the waves, when the waves are bigger than the boat, and the boat is going faster than the waves in the same direction something very predictable happens although I was unable to articulate this in french at the time not knowing the words for crashing bow first into a massive wave and getting all of my stuff wet. I did happen to recognize this might be the case and managed to lift my small bag with all my important stuff and electronics over my head before the boat was flooded with about 8 inches of water only about 200m from shore. What happened to the Madagascar maxim "Mora, mora" (slowly, slowly) I was wondering?
So ya, 8 days of either sailing into the wind or waiting on the beach and hoping the wind would change I'd had enough and jumped at the chance to rid myself of my ship mates by taking their option of returning to Morombe and taking a 14hr Taxi-Brousse ride to the beach and diving destination of Ifaty.
Photos: 1) Felix's boat "Le Grace de dieu" in the foreground as another pirogue sails by; 2) my view of the sail from my seat in the pirogue; 3) One of many apparantly "abandoned ships" in the shipbuilding capital of Madagascar Belo-sur-Mer. They take over a year to build and I guess something came up in the meantime. 4) My stuff drying in the sun in front of the Morombe beach.
*Official garmin GPS speeds with the maximum being the max and the min being the speed the only time I checked when the lads were paddling.
**It lacks character, charm, is in the middle of nowhere, despite being a significant shipping hub doesn't have a harbour, houses on the beach mean animals and shit on the beach and possibly a direct result the brownest seawater yet.
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