INHAMBANE - EAST AFRICA – following the dhows south continued. Our sail south was a memorable one. In the afternoon we caught a small yellow fin tuna and enjoyed some sashimi and an excellent barbeque. That evening alone on watch approaching the bay of Pomene showered in moonlight and passing only metres from Barra Falsa will remain a highlight for me. I hope one day to return to this spot. No adventure at sea is complete without a story of the ‘one that got away’. Adrenalin shot through our veins when heard the reel spin. It was a big hit and whatever it was it took a lot of line. We slowed down immediately and dropped the sails. Tyler was our fisherman of note and grabbed the rod and started what was to be an hour of pure excitement. The initial rush of having had a take soon waned and Tyler started to sweat in the morning sun. The battle had begun. Tyler would reel some in and then the ratchet would spin as the fish took it back. So it went, win some loose some. In the beginning we were definitely on the losing end of the deal – so win some, loose more – but time was on our side. Win some, lose less and the animal started to tire. Soon it was win some, lose some. We were getting even. Then disaster struck and we thought we had lost the battle when the handle of the Penn Reel broke off in Tyler ’s hand. I dashed down below and searched frantically for a bolt to replace the handle. We fashioned a handle by tapping up the exposed thread with duct tape. One Musto sailing glove on the hand for protection and we were back in business. Reel him in boy! The battle continued … Whatever it was – it was by far the biggest thing we had ever had on the line. We were getting closer and at one stage I thought we were almost there - a dark shape I estimated about 2.5 m long was barely visible as we peered over the edge. The ratchet on the reel was on max – the line pulled taught and the end of the rod bent earthwards - Tyler hung on - we were in a state of equilibrium – this was the defining moment of the fight – I could almost see the nylon thread strain and diminish in diameter – how far could it go - there was an agonizing moment of silence – this is it I thought – he has got to give up now – and then Bang! and the line went soft – he was gone! What an anticlimax – what do you say, what can you say – there was a bit of cursing – but it didn’t last long – he would be the one that got away! An approach to the bay of Inhambane is best tackled on the rising tide as it is filled with sandbanks. As we set up our approach I spotted a large dark shape off the port bow. I rushed up to see what is was and to our delight we had spotted a whale shark. These docile creatures are exactly as they are described. They look like a shark – but are the size of a small whale and harmless. It took some time before I convinced the crew to don their snorkeling gear and dive overboard. Big smiles when they returned. Then it was my turn – awesome and scary! We followed the dhow traffic for 12 miles to arrive at Maxixe, a small town across the channel from Inhambane. We anchored off the town pier as immigration facilities were located there and this was to be our last port of call in Mozambique . The town was busy with dhow taxis lining up to carry people across to Inhambane. I visited the well stocked and colourful market and the immigration formalities were painless. The crew elected to head to Torfo, a small town on the eastern seaboard reputed for its surf. The next morning I moved Innisfree over to Inhambane to complete the customs formalities in preparation for our departure. I tied up the dingy on the town pier and headed for town only to be accosted by some official claiming I had to pay 50 Us Dollars to him for tying up my dingy at the dock. All this conducted in Portuguese. Unfortunately he did not count on the fact that I was fluent in Portuguese and didn’t plan on being bullied into parting with that amount of money. I won the battle in the end – but was particularly annoyed as in general the Mozambicans had been pretty honest. I guess there is always a bad apple in the box. Inhambane is an orderly town boasting wide tree lined avenues with a distinct ‘old world’ feel to it. Numerous European styled buildings remain in good condition. I even managed a quite respectable ‘chicken and chips’ in a roadside café with a fruit salad for desert. In the endless pursuit of a wave to surf – I took a local taxi called ‘chapa’ across to Torfo the next day in the hope there was a bit of swell. The ride to Torfo was beautiful as it passed through the palm tree groves and swamp lands. It reminded me somewhat of the rice paddies in Bali . At one stage I counted over 30 of us in the minibus designed for 16. Somehow this did not involve any stress and if someone sitting at the back of the bus signaled the driver to stop – the whole bus disembarked to let him off and then piled back in again – all with a smile. The Mozambicans seem a peaceful bunch - not unlike the Brazilians. Torfo is developing as a tourist spot with numerous backpacker lodges and small hotels in the process of construction. Relatively speaking it is in within easy reach from South Africa by road. It is a beautiful bay with a long wide beach. Beach bars perched on the dunes serve fish and bar food and it’s not difficult to bump into a wide array of foreigners reading or sipping a beer. Alas the sea was flat and there was no reason to get my surfboard wet, so I trekked south to a place called Torfino (little Torfo). Grassy hills and pristine beaches reminded of the wild coast in South Africa and for the first time in a month I realized I was getting closer to home. This was further reinforced when I had a full English breakfast at ‘Casa Barry’ and watched the Springboks beat Scotland at rugby on satellite television – civilization was not far away. |
