THE hot night wind brought scents across the water: to the east four million
Singaporeans were cooking up a reckless pan-Asian fusion. Over the warm sea
blew garam masala and garlic, nasi goreng and dim sum, satay and the sizzle
of a billion prawns. After the long flight, Singapore had given us a night
and a day of rest, cradled in the peerless Shangri-La hotel, and now we were
ready for adventure. This was it.
Lying on deck, I watched the sails carve dark triangles against the stars.
Familar constellations burnt in unfamiliar places as the ship leant on into
the night, dipping through velvet water. Gradually the spicy miasma of the
land was replaced by salt sea-smells; we were well offshore. I fell asleep,
to awake with a start as the moon emerged from cloud, bright as day.
Dazzled, I crept below to the cool cabin.
But I could have slept on deck. It was the first thing we were told:
Frederic, a sort of Belgian Viking, assembled the hundred-odd passengers (a
third Australian, half American, the rest everything from Thai to German)
and said: “Bring your pillow, sleep out if you like, be close to ze Nature!”
Despite the swimming pools, air-conditioning and excellent food and
snorkelling, there is a palpable determination that passengers should not
feel that they are on a cruise liner.
The barquentine Star Flyer belongs to the fleet of Star Clippers —
traditional sailing ships — re-created by the Swedish entrepreneur Mikael
Krafft. You may straddle the bowsprit, climb the mast, steer and consult the
chart. On the first night passengers are asked to haul up the big staysail;
admittedly, it later becomes apparent that this ship is a high-tech creature
with electric winches that enable the crew to do it all without breaking
into a sweat or manning a yardarm. But, all the same, she is a real clipper:
she sails faster than she can motor, and offers the unique sweet steadiness
of a sailing ship.
The engines are very quiet, so the ship can meet holiday schedules without
breaking the mood: in calms it sometimes takes an experienced glance at the
trim of the sails to realise that the vessel is employing the iron topsail.
For me, used to sail-training ships, it felt so real that I was unnerved at
not being required to do dawn watches or clean lavatories. When we first
came up the gangplank and were handed hot towels, I had to fight back an
instinct to polish something.
But it’s a grand life, this Star Clippers cruising. The sailing can be brisk,
even in the dozy winds of the Indian Ocean. In the morning we woke to find
the squaresails unfurled, and Star Flyer heeling gently past a rock
lighthouse. The crew were introduced, 80 of them from 17 nations under a
Polish captain, plus Miss Celesta, the ship’s moody parrot, which hated
women and imitated car alarms.
This was the ship’s winter route: Singapore to Phuket via the Thai islands,
then back the following week. In the summer she makes for cooler,
Mediterranean waters. When I sailed it was not long after the tsunami, and
one of the pleasures of a small ship anchoring independently offshore is
that its route can be changed without difficulty.
The Malaysian coast and the southernmost Thai islands still lay open to us.
The company has a certain ethos of faithfulness to bookings (most of its
clients are repeat customers). Earlier, just after the tsunami, Star Flyer
sailed with only 18 passengers out of a normal complement of up to 150.
Those cancelling failed to recognise how much is untouched and how flexible
is the ship. But the problem of perception is one that afflicts the whole
fragile region: everywhere we went there were collections for tsunami
victims, but also great anxiety to reassure us that tourists were needed,
welcome and safe.
Star Flyer spends every night at sea, and one full day; on this trip we
had an extra sea day, but I heard no complaints. It seems that the normal
stir- crazy atmosphere of bigger cruise ships is replaced by the ancient
patience of sail. Cruisey amusements are laid on in a pleasingly amateurish
fashion, from keep fit to napkin folding; but passengers mainly lounged,
read, watched the sky, chatted up the crew and ate, content to let a
300-mile (480km) passage unroll.
Anchorages were welcome, though, and fascinating. I tramped through Chinatown
in Penang City, rode the cable car to the summits of Langkawi, watched sea
eagles circling over mangrove swamps and rejoiced in exuberant temples and
shrines. On a beach day I snorkelled around the rocks of Ko Adang while
keener types did scuba and water-skiing and the crew organised a barbecue.
Along the beach an encampment of sea gypsies, the chao lay, watched
their naked children dive and cartwheel, and equably accepted an offering of
noodles from Star Flyer. The Thai national park islands permit no
other cruise ships, and their denizens are always pleased to see the great
sailing ship anchor in their bay. They smiled on us.
Actually, everyone did. One pair of Malays selling twisted-wire keyrings
spotted me as British and started chortling “Prince Harry!”, pointing to
imaginary armbands. After several minutes’ joshing they pointed to the
temple opposite and revealed the joke: the swastika, as I should have
remembered, is an ancient Buddhist symbol of goodness. “Harry is Buddhist!”
they crowed. “Good!” I could grow to love a country where even hawkers take
the trouble to tease you.
That same mood of larky multiculturalism pervaded the ship. Far from family,
as all seafarers are, the ship’s crew display a real bond. They share it
with surprisingly genuine kindness towards the passengers.
We were only tourists, aboard this gentle, affable ship for just a week. But a
small ship under sail is a good place; out on the ocean you cannot ignore
one another. It was a frivolous holiday trip for us, and odd to be frivolous
on an ocean that has brought such sorrow. But the spirit of shared joy in
the sea and the sky and the ship was real. It felt right.
On we sailed, and on went the ship’s life: the clang and clatter of small
repairs, the smell of varnish. Most evenings I lay on the bowsprit net at
sunset gazing up at the sails, feeling the drive of the ship, watching the
islands go by and the high sails redden and fade into the darkness. Very
happy, very happy, indeed.
Need to know
Getting there: Libby Purves travelled with Star Clippers
(01473 292029, www.starclippers.co.uk) and Kuoni Travel (01306 740500,
www.kuoni.co.uk).
Star Clippers offers one week’s cruise only from Singapore on Star
Flyer from £715pp.
Kuoni Travel has a 10-night package, including seven nights on Star Flyer,
two nights’ B&B at the Shangri-La Singapore and one at the Cape
Panwa Phuket, return flights from Heathrow to Singapore on British Airways
and transfers from £2,296pp.
Rule the waves
Spend starry nights anchored in lagoons and lunch under palm trees on coral beaches
while cruising the Pacific Mamanuca islands on board 34-cabin catamaran Fiji
Princess. Enjoy four hours of sailing a day, snorkelling and sunbathing.
Six-night Gold Club Cruise from £799. Details: 020-7483 6555, www.bridgeandwickers.co.uk.
The country house hotel-style Hebridean Spirit sails off southern Africa on
its first season this year, with 70 crew for 80 guests. A ten-night cruise
from Cape Town on January 27 will take in wineries in Stellenbosch and
wildlife spotting in Walvis Bay, Namibia. The trip costs from £4,330,
including all drinks, excursions and tips. Details: 01756 704704,
www.hebridean.co.uk.
Relish barefoot luxury sailing through Polynesia on a 30-cabin motor yacht with
Bora Bora Cruises, a partner of Orient-Express. Six days on board plus three
at Bora Bora Lagoon Resort & Spa cost from £3,378. Details:
020-7960 0500, www.boraboracruises.com.
Prices are per person, based on two sharing. Flights are not included but can be
arranged.
Caroline Hendrie
