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Red Sea Pirates
by Dave Creelman
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Pirates!
25-foot seas, 30-knot winds and we are out of cooking fuel. What was I
doing here, in the middle of the Arabian Sea with three strangers, being chased by pirates?
Living on the edge and living a dream.
For me, the camel's back broke in December 1999. No more office job! I quit my job and got on the Internet. I found someone who needed crew for the next leg of his trip from Muscat, Oman to the Mediterranean.
Oman is on the Southeastern coast of the Arabian Peninsula. After travelling 21 hours, making two connections including a strange, 15-minute stop in Saudi Arabia, I really hoped that there was a boat at the end of the flight.
 I've sailed since I was a kid but mostly out of Toronto harbour and always ending on the same dock
that I left from. At the end of our first day at sea while watching a beautiful sunset over the disappearing Oman coastline, it hit me that I wasn't going back to port that night or any other night soon. The two-month, one-way trip took us over 5000 miles (including all the up-wind sailing that is the Red Sea) and during this time, I was more alive than I have ever felt.
Captain Rod, an American, has been sailing slowly around the world returning home, now and then, to visit family. His boat: a beautiful 44' Beneteau. Our crew included Rancher Dan from Saskatchewan and Sailor Sarah from the UK. I joined on to this adventure by surfing all over the Internet looking through a variety of sailing sites' bulletin boards.
This was a cost sharing trip and a great way for me to get my 'offshore' feet wet. We were all amazed that to
provision for two months for four people added up to about $500 split four ways. This translated into just over five full shopping carts and we were able to buy whatever we wanted.
The store had every brand you could want. The looks on the faces of the supermarket guys who helped us load our car were priceless. I don't think they could imagine why four people needed so much food. Since it was our second trip to the market that week they
must have thought our stomachs were bottomless.
Our fuel costs were equally surprising. We filled the Beneteau's main tank, as well as a bladder, to 44 litres, a spare tank to 60 litres and two emergency Jerry cans and the total bill was $40!!! Put another way, my portion of the entire sailing trip, visas included, cost me $380 US. For a trip of a lifetime you can't beat that price.
The boat was rigged with a full main and furling genoa along with a gennaker. I made a point to get to the boat before it left 'the hard' so I could assist in prepping it for our journey. This allowed me to get to know the boat and also made me feel more secure as I found her very sound even after all of her previous adventures. Just months before, she had carried her crew from Australia to India and on to Oman for a rest.
In the Gulf of Aden between Somalia and Yemen, we became aware of a ship overtaking us from astern. We changed course six times. So did they. We allowed the ship to get close enough for us to see what they were doing.
Why would a rusty old cargo ship follow us? We soon found out … to lower smaller, faster speed boats to catch and board our boat!
Engine full ahead … get out the Winchester rifle … stand by on radio. Captain Rod had been through this before, but this was my first 'being chased by pirates' event. As we were off the coast of Yemen, we took the threat seriously, for we were now in pirate alley. No one is immune through here, not even the US Navy, as was proved later in the year with the USS Cole's experience.
My first action was to stop making banana bread. That could wait.
Sarah was on watch and she had first pointed out the ship's behaviour. We were all in agreement from the beginning that if we found ourselves in this situation that our first method of evading pirates was to "Run Away". Rod told me what to say on the VHF and single sideband radios in the event of imminent boarding by the bad guys. He got out his Winchester 308 rifle, put a shell into the chamber and aimed at the ship, now in very close range. Through the rifle sight, he could see that the ship's crew were using cranes in lowering smaller boats over the side.
Another precaution we took was to take the EPIRB out of its bracket and wrap it hidden in a towel. Sarah was to set it off if we were boarded. We kept our stern at a 90-degree angle to the ship and this forced us to circle, but at least it did not allow the ship to get any closer. It had the feel of a slow speed chase but felt threatening nonetheless. I suggested we hail the ship on radio, if only to let them know we knew they were there. Whether it was this move or the presence of the rifle, the ship dropped its pursuit after an exciting two hours. Though the event lacked the Hollywood flare and dramatic end, it was real and could have ended differently. Pirates are a popular discussion topic among cruisers in the area. Just weeks before we ran our gauntlet through pirate alley, we had heard that an
Australian family was boarded by pirates and robbed, leaving their boat shot full of holes. We made it through and were lucky.
The banana bread was great!
Skip ahead now to the Red Sea, one day out from the Eritrean port of
Massawa . The wind had turned around and came at us on the nose, increasing to 35 knots and creating 25-foot waves. Our propane had leaked out during the night and left us with no cooking fuel. We expected the wind to come from its Northerly direction, just not this far south nor at this speed for so long. To turn back meant two days' delay and we were pressed for time. For 14 days and nights we became very good at timing wave crashes to use our momentum to fly across the cabin from our bunks to the galley.
At the time, I wrote in my journal that I imagined that sailing into 25-foot seas with 30-plus knot winds was similar to driving a small rally car at 60 mph down a wooded mountain road and crashing into a tree every 10 seconds. Roll, thrash, crash, repeat.
Although the wind and waves were up, it was never stormy. After the initial discomfort we learned to adapt which I found very interesting. We became increasingly worn out and morale slipped a bit but overall we came together pretty well. It became a perverse joke to openly laugh at the next person on watch. What got an even bigger laugh was hearing a large wave hit the bow and then go silent for a second just as its' spray travelled the length of the boat to hit the already wet person on watch. And the laughs kept on coming, wave after wave.
With our propane now useless, we became the galloping gourmets of the Red Sea. Our primary cooking utensil became a can opener, which made for some creative meals. Have you ever had Spam with a cold curry stew and pickled corn? For added texture we would add some succulent cocktail weenies. I came to dread my cooking day and truth be told Rod and Sarah came out the heroes as the meal makers. On a good day I can make a pretty good meal and up until then no one was complaining. With no fire I couldn't, for the life of me, get inspired by another tin can surprise.
It got to the point that I would anticipate my cooking days coming up and pre-plan a chore trade with Sarah. I ended up cleaning and doing a lot of dishes but did not have to endure another curry corn creation. To Sarah's great credit she pulled together a 'no cooking required' cheesecake that was a very nice reward for us all as we entered the calmer seas of the Gulf of Suez.
The point of this trip was to see if I would enjoy being on a boat for an extended period. After two months, three continents, six countries and numerous cultural immersions, I have to say: yes!
Live your dreams!
A sailor for 21 years, Dave Creelman
has had a variety of careers including radio producer, event Disc Jockey and salesman. He has since seen the light and left the "real" workforce to sail and travel. He is currently teaching sailing and fixing boats at Queen's Quay Yachting, and writing about his travels from
his home in Toronto.
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