A ship's log from the Indian Ocean - Part 2

It was not lost on us, however, the impact of deforestation on this rare and magical place. Driving through Sabah, the road was sandwiched between vast monocultures of palm. Even at Kinabatangan, only a tiny corridor of rainforest persists. Palm oil plantations have taken over most of Borneo, and the impacts of habitat destruction are debilitating for the local plants and animals. Most of Borneo’s endemic wildlife is critically endangered. It is tragic to see the loss of so much biodiversity, to witness firsthand how industrialisation can decimate entire ecosystems, and to see the impacts on local people. Traditional ways of life, which are absolutely integrated with the health of the jungle, are rapidly being lost. In the cities, we saw a lot of poverty and displacement. Many of the people struggling the most are either indigenous jungle people or sea gypsies. The sea gypsies are a fascinating group of people who live entirely on and from the ocean. Because they are not citizens of any country, it is difficult for them to work or access social services. Thus, their health is entirely reliant on the health of the oceans. 
 
After Kinabatangan we visited an orangutan rehabilitation center, where orphaned orangutan are rescued and eventually re-released into the wild. We walked along boardwalks through lush rainforest. Suddenly, the trees would shake and the leaves would rustle and one of the bright orange apes would come swinging towards us. In Indonesian, orangutan means ‘people of the forest,’ and it does seem that these animals are close to us in many ways. Their eyes are wide with understanding, their movements purposeful, and (maybe this is stupid to say) but they seem infused with good humour and deep emotion. It was one of the most memorable experiences of my life to see these animals go about their daily rituals. Many of the mothers had small babies who nearly exploded my heart with their cuteness. The mad scientist hairdos, the lanky limbs, their strange calls - it felt impossible to encounter the orangutan and not be filled with hope and awe. Despite the destruction of their homes, despite poaching and deforestation and climate change, despite every hardship, they remain. This resilience, as well as the work being done at the rehabilitation centre and by so many activists/environmentalists throughout the region, is so inspiring. We left Borneo feeling deeply compelled to do what we can to advocate for the environment through making responsible consumer choices, staying educated, supporting environmental justice initiatives, and raising awareness. The solutions to deforestation in Borneo are nuanced, and I can’t pretend to understand how or why political structures, corporate greed and the global market support and perpetuate the destruction of so much primary rainforest. It is difficult and confusing to figure out how to be a part of the solution, especially as a traveler, moving through a place without having the time to truly connect with the people living there or understand the complexities of issues they face. We never want to impose our narrow viewpoints on people or places without taking time to understand them, and all we can do is try our best to keep our eyes open and operate as responsible, conscientious, and kind people as we explore the world. Our experiences in Borneo reminded us of that and of how important it is, as a global community, to appreciate and protect our wild places.
 

When we returned to the boat we met up with filmer and sailor Kelly Foote. Kelly would come with us for the next month up the Malacca Strait and into Indonesia. Together, we worked on the boat a bit, provisioned, and headed out of the comfy marina and into the treacherous straits. Before this trip, everything we had heard was that this would be the most difficult and dangerous crossing we would face. The Malacca Strait is home to the busiest shipping channels in the world. It is heavily trafficked by freighters and fishing boats, and is infamous for strong currents and unpredictable localised weather patterns. It would take us approximately four nights and five days to travel up the strait from Puteri to Langkawi, hugging the Malaysian coast on one side and the shipping channel to the other. 
 
Our first night out at about 1am we hit a big squall. Kelly was on watch and we were cruising at five knots with the headsail up, when almost instantaneously the wind picked up and lightning started to strike all around the boat. We were beating straight into the wind, and waves were breaking over our bow and washing through the cockpit. The wind was blowing about 45 knots and our little boat rocked and crashed up and down throwing everything in the cabin off the shelves. One of the hatches wasn’t latched properly and a particularly big wave forced it open, absolutely swamping both our beds. The squall lasted for about two and a half hours before moving away and leaving us to mop up the mess. The Malacca Strait was living up to its reputation. 

The following days and nights are a blur. We hugged the shipping channels, and sometimes one of the huge boats would come scarily close. We got broad-sided by a few of their wakes and had to be on constant alert. At night the entire horizon would be lit an eerie green colour with the lights from hundreds of fishing boats. It was like a maze, with Calypte dodging and weaving between them. The creepiest ones were the tiny canoe-sized boats with no lights at all. A couple of times, I would be scanning the horizon during my watch and not be able to see a boat until it was literally right next to us. Nerve wracking. We trawled the entire time, but didn’t catch any fish. 
 
We made it to Langkawi at about 2am after four days at sea. Langkawi is a beautiful island and a bit of a hub for cruisers coming in and out of Malaysia. We spent a few days in the marina there, refuelling and provisioning and checking out of Malaysia. Our next crossing would be across the top of the Malacca Strait to Sabang, where we would officially enter Indonesia.