The first 3 weeks in Seychelles

Aside from the jet lag — 7am in California is 7pm here! — we felt a surreal sensation to be aboard Nesi .

While sailing in the Tuamotus, one year ago, we envisioned this distant, unlikely possibility. I sent an investment proposal to our community for a 15 year sailing circumnavigation, took the chance to fly across the world to visit 2 boats in the Seychelles, leaving Sabrina in command of Selavi with the kids in Fakarava (and guests that arrived before my return!) and spent the next several months in a whirlwind: fund-raising, hosting trips, Burning “Muddy” Man, never-ending boat repairs, a complicated boat sale, growing our co-op, squeezing in a snow vacation, and finally moving across the globe with 2 kids and 18 bags.

This 12 month tornado somehow deposited us back onboard Nesi, at the dock in Mahé island where I’d last seen her, except now, with the whole family together. The whole thing felt like a strange and beautiful dream.

My greatest pleasure is that Sabrina and the kids loved the boat from the first moment, which I was wondering about! After all, Sabrina wasn’t the hugest fan of the boat (Aquatiki II in Fakarava) that inspired our hunt for this specific model around the world (a Fountaine Pajot Eleuthera 60ft catamaran). That boat was running dive charters and was quite beat up and messy. When I saw Aquatiki II, I knew she was the right model, the right foundation for our next phase. Nesi is the exact same model boat, yet she feels palatial and elegant, well-cared for and delightful in all her spaces. All the videos of the boat weren’t nearly as convincing as the moment that Sabrina stepped aboard and said, “Ok, now I get it. This is amazing!” How satisfying and relieving!

After arriving, we had 3 weeks to prepare the boat for our first Shakedown Cruise with two co-op members, our rigger Ian, and my mom. This was much too little time, yet I figured it would push us to act quickly. Push us it did!

The basic problem is that Nesi is a “marina boat”, and we need to convert her into an “off-grid cruising boat”.

To understand this task, imagine that a huge flood caused your suburban house to suddenly lose all its utilities: water, power, gas. The huge flood also caused the main hardware store to close, leaving only the mini-stores open; and all the good handy workers (electricians, carpenters, etc) simply can’t reach you, only an array of inexperienced workers. Worse yet, the mail delivery stopped, so you have no access to online purchases.

In such a huge symbolic “flood”, we suddenly must turn to complete self-reliance and independence. This is a challenging shift to make.

The good news is that Nesi is a well cared for boat and all her systems were functional; the foundation is excellent. The bad news is that Nesi is still a boat , and all her systems needed tons of attention, and major upgrades to transition her from “marina boat” to “off-grid cruising boat” status.

The first round of our journey features some non-trivial destinations: sailing to Madagascar, Mozambique, and South Africa. So the success of our quest has big implications.

First item on the agenda: figure out how to run this big 60ft boat.

In general everything is similar to our old 46ft catamaran, but massively sized, and much more complicated. The mainsail is gigantic and runs on multiple electric winches. The windlass is enormous with 14mm (unmarked) chain. There are twin 110HP turbo engines (which were misaligned), a 12kW electronic Generator, and a complex series of battery chargers and inverters. The electrical system is the most complicated & non-intuitive part of the boat, featuring both 24v and 12v, and three different 220v circuits. There is an air conditioning system with 3 compressors that cools all five cabins plus the large salon. There is a high output 65 Gallon per hour watermaker (which was not 100% well-maintained)

We also had to figure out how to live aboard the boat… how to keep food in the fridges (which were icing over and dripping wet), to cook properly (the oven needed a new burner), and store belongings (this boat strangely has less storage space our 46ft catamaran). Meanwhile we had to entertain and teach our kids, who were thriving with our onboard teacher Zoe from Corsica, who helped us in the epic journey from Tahiti.

Lest we forget, we are in East Africa. It’s easy to overlook this since Seychelles is the most affluent African country, and everything costs a fortune, so you’d hope this would translate to good quality. Alas, this was optimistic thinking.

Seychelles is a fascinating and beautiful place, but efficiency is not her forte. She has plenty of character, being a melting pot of Middle Eastern, Indian, and European cultures. Seychelles’ history is unique. When the French first claimed Seychelles in 1756, there were no permanent inhabitants, only transient Arabic sailors.

This is surprising because Seychelles are large islands with relative proximity to many populated areas. To get a sense, some of the closest places are Madagascar is 550nm SW, then Somalia is 700nm NW, then Tanzania is 900nm W. In the other direction, India is 1500nm NE.

Do you know another archipelago (near the equator) that was uninhabited when Europeans arrived, just 500nm from a continent? Galapagos. It’s probably no coincidence that the only two places on Earth with wild-roaming Giant Tortoises are Galapagos and Seychelles (as far as I know). Those species were prolific around the world, but they were exterminated by hunters, except in these two island groups that remained largely uninhabited until the mid 1700s.

Just 40 years after the French colonized Seychelles, they gave it up to the British in 1796. Unfortunately, this means the baguettes and croissants aren’t nearly as good as those in Tahiti. On the plus side, English is the lingua franca. Seychellois, the creole language spoken by all the locals, is essentially like French with an extremely heavy African-style accent, which survives from that first era of French control. We can’t understand it, but if we speak French, the locals can understand.

The Seychelles feels like a Caribbean island — with its relaxed “island time” vibe and Rasta influences — yet with African edginess. Many people are gentle and chill. Yet we are constantly caught off guard by the proud, head strong approach of many locals that can be mistaken for unfriendliness and even bitter spitefulness.

The fact that tourism is the primary economy in Seychelles causes a well-known distortion in culture. Places like Costa Rica and Mediterranean villages also reflect this issue: when flamboyantly rich visitors contrasts with a humble community, it can be a ripe breeding ground for resentment and local self-entitlement.

Like the Caribbean, the Seychelles has the added karmic load of dealing with absurdly affluent yachts. This ranges from the fleets of charter cats that rake in $20K per week, to dealing with several multi-million dollar mega-yachts owned by Arabic sultans and Russian oligarchs which flaunt their shores. An incredible number of foreign-owned mansions also dot the islands.

All these factors lead to a community of boating professional that is generally, ahem… difficult to work with. The golden goose (rich yachties) is constantly being squeezed of its fat. What’s left is a mishmash of boat workers who range from too busy, to utter incompetence. The default situation here is to over-charge wildly for mediocre work.

In fact, we’ve been struggling with these issues ever since we purchased the boat last July. The charter manager that was going to run the boat on a few ten day charters, to cover the costs of our boat sitting at the marina hemorrhaging money, failed abysmally. Not only did we not cover our costs, we lost a pile of money.

The issue of having reliable help continued in the first 3 weeks we were aboard. People were charging us for services we didn’t ask for. People were charging us steep fees for “using their own tools” ontop of their regular wages. Ridiculous stuff. Yet as a newbie just trying to get stuff done, I was stuck between a rock and hard place. Worse even than incompetence, people responded to critique with verbal attacks. I got into more fights with people in those 3 weeks than I have in 3 years. Granted, I was stressed, but I was not proud of this, nor was it conducive to my mental wellbeing.

As the weeks passed and the repair / improvement list was ticked slowly, I became increasingly anxious. Just to get a straight price or quote from anyone was like pulling teeth. To get them to show up was an exercise in incessant phone calls and perseverance. Eventually, the generator was serviced, we bought a brand new dinghy & outboard, fixed various leaks. But as we approached the start of our Shakedown cruise, the boat still felt in pieces.

A few people were redeeming forces: our boat manager & surveyor Vincent Leon is an honest, incorruptible & super helpful guy. The previous owner of the boat, Stephane is responsive to any questions and spends time so I can understand systems. The old captain of the boat Patrick is a delightful hard worker, and straight with his word. Sadly he injured his knee and had to stop working but his very presence gave me hope. Eventually he connected us with a deckhand Kenneth that had those same virtues, which I appreciated greatly, amidst the chaos of everything else.

The best money we spent was flying our friend and rigger Ian Weedman to Seychelles. He is an absolute joy to be around and a total master of his craft. His plan was to join us for a week of boatwork, the 12 day Shakedown Cruise, then 2 weeks of re-rigging Nesi with the mast laying on the ground. A huge job to do in a foreign country, and simply irreplicable, because the one rigger on the island can’t keep up with the work demand of all the charter boats. More on this essential piece of our sailing preparations later.

Finally I felt grateful and re-charged to see my mother Susie, who arrived at the end of this 3 week period. Our current teacher Zoe was departing and we had a gap of a month before the next teacher arrived. So my mom took over the duties of being with the kids, which was simply a joy to watch and be around.

During those 3 weeks, we managed to cast the dock lines twice. We spent one night each time at a nearby islet 20 minutes from the harbor, to test the battery systems. One time we managed to lose our brand new dinghy due to a pathetic slippery line, and we came way too close to the reef in our effort to recuperate the dinghy (Sabrina eventually got it back by swimming!) The second time was better, so this was re-assuring, but we still didn’t really understand how to manage the boat’s electrical system. Furthermore, one of the engines still had charging / alignment problems.

With some things going our way, and many things not, we hustled to prepare our first Shakedown Cruise with our co-op members Judy and Matt. They signed up for this knowingly, ie. the unknown of our preparations. Yet, we personally didn’t anticipate being in such a state of disarray.

Breathe, I reminded myself. It’s all gonna be ok. In this process of keeping faith, and moving forward, we remembered a simple truth: We don’t belong in the marina. Within a few days of leaving, and being offshore again, everything seemed to fall into place….