Text: Franz Schmitt
Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia, isn’t right on the water’s edge but is certainly a tempting distance away. We’re heading for Port Dickson, a marina very close to the megacity. It’s quite spacious, but not particularly busy. In the shadow of a large hotel complex, it offers refreshment for the crew (a swimming pool!) and good shelter for the boat – or so we hope, at least. The jetty does look a bit past its best and rather flimsy.
So “Holly Golightly” is securely moored and we’ve now officially checked in to Malaysia. Two days later, we get all dressed up for a longer shore leave. It’s about a two-hour drive from Port Dickson to Kuala Lumpur. Having arrived safely, we settle into our accommodation high above the clouds on the 27th floor of a high-rise hotel.
A day ashore in Kuala Lumpur
In the evening and the following day, we wander on foot through this metropolis and, as always, have to get used to the noise and the crowds first. We are particularly impressed by the 452-metre-high Petronas Towers and the Bukit Bintang district, which feels extremely colourful and lively, especially in the evening.
Back at the hotel, the weather suddenly turns stormy and we’re glad we don’t have to reef the sails. Thanks to the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rolling gusts as they pass by look impressive, and we’re a bit worried about our boat.
On day three, it’s time for some culture – the Batu Caves are on the itinerary. We make our way through a crowd of monkeys and people and are quite amazed. The Malays have actually built impressive temple complexes inside even more impressive caves. In one of the temples, in exchange for a small offering, a Hindu priest ties bracelets around our wrists that promise protection at all times – exactly what you need on a sea voyage.
Anchoring amongst the mangroves
Back in Port Dickson, we find that our boat is still moored in its berth and, relieved, climb back on board. After refuelling and stocking up on provisions, we set sail a few days later and try our luck on the water once more. Our next stop: an anchorage near Port Klang, the port of Kuala Lumpur, which is, however, a good 60 kilometres away from the city.
The marina there doesn’t have particularly good reviews. So, when we reach our stopover 47 nautical miles and nine hours later, we decide to drop anchor not far from the harbour facilities, amongst magnificent mangroves. Two yachts we recognise keep us company.
The following morning, we set off on our final major leg: just 250 nautical miles remain to Rebak Island Marina, west of Langkawi. This final stretch through the Strait of Malacca brings us further highlights that we hadn’t actually planned for.
A fright in the dark
On the first night, the local fishermen once again go all out to ensure we don’t get bored. One of the smaller, usually unlit fishing boats suddenly lights up just a few metres away from us. Now, one might suppose that the fishermen were in a bad mood for some reason or had dishonest intentions, but nothing of the sort: in high spirits, they simply want to know where we’re from and where we’re heading. As is almost always the case, our reply, bellowed into the night – “We are from Germany” – elicits an enthusiastic response. Waving cheerfully, they then turn away, switch off all their lights again and have successfully ensured that Mareike, who is currently off watch, is wide awake once more.
A strange distress signal
It is also Mareike who, later that night, spots an active EPIRB signal on the chart plotter – which is actually something to be taken very seriously. As the signal isn’t coming from right round the corner, she contacts a harbour master in Malaysia via satellite, who had given us his number in Lombok – just in case! However, he immediately gives the all-clear: fishermen, he explains, often use disused emergency beacons to mark their nets. You’d have to think of that first.
On the second night, we sail past the island of Pulau Pinang, which lies close to the mainland, and once again learn what a two-knot counter-current – which, to make matters worse, is also working in tandem with the wind – really means: a snail’s pace, or even a standstill! At times, we feel as though the nearby island is overtaking us and that we’ll never arrive. It’s only after two hours that the madness noticeably subsides and we win the race against the island.
Passed through the Strait of Malacca
Eleven hours and 56 nautical miles later, we finally reach our final destination for this leg of the journey: Rebak Marina on Langkawi. Just before the harbour entrance – which isn’t all that easy to spot – we manoeuvre round one last fisherman with his net. Docking and mooring is then just a formality. We’ve actually done it – one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world is now behind us.
Part 1 of the feature can be found here!
Christian Tiedt
Editor Travel