The journey was to be over 3000 nautical miles. With torpid seas as we rounded the north eastern coast of Borneo, the days and nights blurred. My watches were sometimes in the day, sometimes at night. We had an additional crew member on watch where there were supposed to be pirates, for even though we had speed, at night it was dangerous to go fast. There were hazards in and under the water: logs that had drifted from the rivers, shipping containers, like icebergs, floating mainly below the surface, and as we passed through the Lombok Straits, a fleet of hundreds of tiny fishing boats sailing home in the half-light of dawn.
I remember the vivid sunsets, unbelievably varied and beautiful at sea. Also we had glimpses of whales and dolphins who played in the bow wave. Then there were the brief stops to dive at Sipadan and to refuel, eat and shop in Bali. After anchoring to dive in the Abrolhos Islands, I thought I saw a large fin and refused to get in the water. And finally I remember our arrival in an autumnal Fremantle.
That was the trip south. The return trip some months later was a different voyage altogether. The weather had changed.