THE harvest festival of Onam celebrated by Malayalees fell on Sept 2 this year, and the missus and I decided to holiday in Sabah this time, instead of celebrating it at home.
So on that day, we found ourselves in a small speedboat off Kota Kinabalu waters, on what was supposed to be languid island-hopping spree. It was almost noon and if this sounds idyllic – well, things were not what they seemed to be.
There were six of us on our way to Mamutik Island in the small prau, which had dropped off two others on Sapi Island after a choppy ride from the mainland. Dark clouds scowled at us from above, it was raining and the sea was getting rougher.
We were between the two islands, with no horizon in sight, and the boat was being tossed about quite a bit.
Then, the boat’s engine stalled.
“It’s OK,” our boatman, who looked like he was just out of this teens, assured us. “I’ll start it in a moment,” he said, referring to the stalled engine.
A few futile pulls at the engine later, furrows of desperation creased his brow.
To make it worse – indeed, if it could be any worse – the waves were high enough for the water to splash across the bow. Soon, there was about an inch or two of water at the bottom of the boat.
“Can’t we call for help?” someone asked nervously. So I got my mobile phone out to let someone on land know we were stranded at sea in a storm, in a stalled boat.
Although we were already wearing life-jackets, the warning bells went off earlier when, as the waves got higher, the boatman’s assistant began handing out extra jackets!
My missus later admitted that she began saying her prayers, wondering how rescuers would find us, if at all. One of the tourists, a French woman, I think, started to cry quietly.
The guy next to me, a German, asked: “Can you call someone to let them know? Can you get a signal on your phone?”
Now, the strangest things flit through your mind when you’re staring at death or disaster. Some see their whole life flash before their eyes, others offer a fervent prayer, some cry.
Not that I wasn’t scared – this had to be the most terrifying moment in my life. Yet, all that was went through my mind was: “Damn it, my phone’s getting wet!”
When I told my missus this later, she said: “You must have a heart of stone.”
Me, I call it a defence mechanism.
Anyway, I pulled out the phone, trying to shield it from the rain and sea-water spray, called the agent who sold us the tickets for the boat ride and narrated our predicament.
“Can you send out help?” I asked.
“Don’t worry, the boatman will get you to the island,” the agent replied, before the line went dead.
“What did he say?” the others anxiously asked me.
I told them he was no help. The boatman was still struggling to restart the engine.
“Just don’t shake the boat,” he said, but his frustration with the stubborn engine was obvious.
We held on tight, gripping our life-jackets tightly around us, one hand on boat’s railing, and holding our breath each time a wave tossed the boat.
We must have been in this situation for about 10 minutes, although it seemed like a lifetime.
Then, suddenly, the engine sputtered to life. We breathed a sigh of relief – although we still had to brave some choppy waters to get to Mamutik, we were at least moving.
An hour after we reached the island, the wind came in so strong that it rained horizontally! Tourism officials manning the jetty called the mainland to advise against sending out small boats.
When our boatman returned later to pick us up, it was still raining hard and we could hardly see the horizon. Naturally, we didn’t want to get into the boat.
“If we wait longer, it could get worse,” he shouted to me from the boat as I held on to the jetty and tried to negotiate to depart later.
The officials were not very helpful. “If he (the boatman) says it is safe, then better to trust him.”
However, one of our party had a flight to catch, so we decided to brave it again, reluctantly.
“So long as the boat doesn’t stall again,” someone joked.
Five minutes into the return trip – the waves were still choppy although the boatman was going much slower this time – and the engine stalled!
Fortunately, our guy managed to restart it after a few seconds, and we were soon back on the mainland. When the boat nudged the jetty, we clapped in relief, and the boatman smiled as if to say: “See, I told you not to worry!”
Back on land, we spent a few minutes shaking hands with the others, and the missus exchanged e-mail addresses. No more sea trips for a while, she swore!
As for the friends we made during this stormy episode – Tamara, Benno, Aurelie and Sophie – hope you had a great holiday otherwise. Malaysia is unforgettable, isn’t it?
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