A trip aborted due to bad weather

We were to have set out for Pulau Hantu at 11 am on May 21 with KH, J and their son ZQ, but the wind and currents were very strong even in the marina -  amid generally sunny weather -  so C made the call not to go out.

We already knew that weather conditions weren't in our favour, but got the picnic stuff prepared anyway, and met our guests at the marina. The waters in the marina were rippling, and there was an ominous calm in the place - none of the noisy gathering of anglers, wakeboarders and day trippers typical of a Saturday. They must have checked windyty, but unlike us, didn't hope against hope.

A boat with a pair of fishermen headed out - not before having to gun the engine a bit -  in a no-wake zone, mind you -  to overcome the waves that would have pushed their boat towards the dock. They were back in the marina in 30 minutes. The waters out there were choppy, they said.

We had a very disappointed ZQ, who was all set for fishing Saturday. He kept asking if we would go out "later" if it got better.

It wasn't to be. We spent time by the pool at the marina instead.  

An aside: The name of the boat has been put back on both sides of the hull in that Tangier font we chose. The name had been taken out when the boat went on show at the Singapore Yacht Show 2016.

Lazarus Island: The anchor goes on strike ...

Date: May 1, 2016

Trip #16
Weather: Sunny, temps in the 30s!  
Waters: Choppy
On board: C, A, J2 and MH  
New gear on board: 32 fishing lures, courtesy of an overly enthusiastic online shopping session

Question: What happens when the anchor doesn't do its job, and the incoming tide sweeps the boat relentlessly shore-ward?

Answer: One spends a lot of time pushing the boat out towards deeper water, and has a kind of disappointing boating day.

The plan was to head to Lazarus Island and have a picnic on its shore.  We were to arrive at between 1 and 2pm, when the tide was coming in after the day's lowest tide at noon. April had been a really dry month. We went out only once - Little Wanderer had been unavailable because of the boat show - and today was already the first day of May, so we were really looking forward to today.

As we approached the island's lagoon, the first of the day's signs that all was not going to be well confronted us: The lagoon was already bristling with nine other boats, mostly larger than ours, and the shores were crowded with picnickers. Whatever happened to those days when we had the island to ourselves? C said: "Wah, this feels like East Coast Park."

Then it happened. The depth gauge very quickly went from 5 feet to too-shallow. We were beached before we knew it and the waves from the incoming tide were coming in. The other boats all seemed to be comfortably anchored further out, where the water was overhead.

We unloaded the stuff anyway in calf-deep water while the boat pitched about. Picnic mats were laid out and the sausages were put on the grill... but we spent most of the next hour in the water, trying to get the boat to deeper water. The incoming waves would lift her momentarily, only for her to land with a gentle thunk seconds later. She just wouldn't budge. (Cue rising stress meter here.)

Little Wanderer high and dry. Note the hull is missing the boat's name.
 It was removed for the boat show and Eric hadn't put it back on. 

After trying a few times - and considering asking two kayaks full of fit, young men to help - a guy came up and offered us help. It's amazing, the difference an extra pair of hands makes. The boat was pushed off the sand into deeper water.

But it was no good. The anchor just didn't catch on anything in the sandy seabed, so the tide kept sweeping her in.  We made the call to pack up and leave. We had to chuck out four half-cooked sausages. We had hardly had lunch.

The picnic spot looked nice. But we had to share it with angry red ants.

The picnic spot (nice and shady though) was pre-claimed by a bunch of red ants; and the fact that the reputedly pristine waters of Lazarus included blobs of black oil, planks, plastic sheets and assorted litter just added to the misery. We made our way back to the marina, with the deck of the boat smudged with oil from our feet.

I guess, as with the rest of life, there will be good days and bad days. This one wasn't good.

Back at the marina, we applied a lot of elbow grease (and the boat-cleaning detergents, courtesy of another of C's overly-enthusiastic shopping sprees on Amazon) to clean the deck of oil. The detergents worked marvellously. (We recommend Star Brite!) There had to be an upside to such a day, right? Give us that.