Afloat off Pulau Hantu Kechil

Date: Nov 14, 2015

Trip #7
Weather: Sunny, and then drizzly, with dramatic storm light on the way back
Waters: Mostly calm, choppy in Sinki Fairway 
On board: C, A, J2, R and MH
New gear on board: Three boxes with lids for dry storage of boat sundries

The plan was to land on Pulau Hantu as a dry run for when we have N and JY on board in a week. Today, Little Wanderer bounced along merrily and had actually shot past the two Pulau Hantu islands, Besar and Kechil, before we realised it. 

This was what we saw on the approach to Pulau Hantu Kechil's lagoon. 

We doubled back, aiming for Pulau Hantu Kechil, only to find the entrance to its lagoon snarled by forests of seaweed, and the water no more than 2 metres deep. Concerned that the propeller might get tangled, we backed away from the lagoon to deeper water, dropped anchor, broke open the beers, wine and a giant bag of pretzels. ACDC was the soundtrack.  

Most of the seaweed was underwater, anchored to the seabed, but
there were breakaway chunks like this one. 

Sargassum seaweed comes with little air sacs and are hiding places for sea critters. 

No other pleasure craft was there in the channel between the island and Pulau Bukom. They all appeared clustered in the coral flats between Hantu Besar and Hantu Kechil.  (See map here.)

It was a hot afternoon and the waters were relatively clean and clear,  which I found surprising because my memory of diving into the pea soup off this island 15 years ago - when I was a newly-qualified open-water diver - are still vivid. But, inviting as the waters were in the afternoon heat, we had to ditch the idea of going swimming around the boat because the currents were strong. C and J2 went in with snorkels, only to clamber back on board in five minutes; fighting the current in the channel would have been too much work for a Saturday afternoon.

Just floating. Just being.

The oil refining facilities of Pulau Bukom in the background.  

Yes, Singapore waters can be this clean and clear.

Horsing around at aft.

When we made tracks for the marina later, it was still sunny, but we knew a storm was brewing. Out in Sinki Fairway, before turning to starboard at what we call Lands End (or The Corner or Singapore's Elbow), the skies ahead, where the marina was, were a deep slate with intermittent slashes of the golden-lavender-pink light from a 4.30pm sun.  In some parts, there was no distinguishing the horizon or where the sea ended and the sky began, and we could see parts where the rain was coming down in blue-grey sheets. 

I often wonder about these rigs out in Singapore waters. What are they doing
out there when Singapore has no oil (though it is a global leader in building rigs)? 
Anyone has a clue? Post a comment! 

This is what it looks like when it is light and dark at the same time.

It was then that I realised that we urbanites often experience weather where we see it, right in our faces. Rain in the city is the run-off from the eaves, or coming down in big fat drops into our built-up canyons or rapidly filling up drains and wetting clean laundry. Out There at sea, one sees the weather on a different scale altogether - writ large, in the great, wide open. What we saw yesterday were a few rain storms lined up in the distance, each drenching some faraway part of the sea. 

And the light at that hour, with the gloom of the storm clouds and the brightness of the almost-setting sun sharing space in one big sky ... was nothing short of atmospheric, and wildly beautiful. I was snapping several shots with my Canon and hoping the pictures would do the scene justice. 

It drizzled in the last 15 minutes of our journey back to the marina, but the waters were fairly flat. Back at the marina, we were occupied with more mundane chores - such as washing down the cabin and untangling metre upon metre of anchor rope.