THE TIGERS WILL EAT YOU ALIVE
by Mike Riley
A few years ago we stopped in Galle, Sri Lanka en route from Cocos Keeling to India and the Red Sea. The port wasn’t much to talk about but the inland travel was cheap and loaded with ancient history. Another boat gave us a copy of the Lonely Planet travel guide for Sri Lanka. We couldn’t believe the prices! I mean a room in an inn for $2!
The most interesting site was a holy mountain, called Adam’s Peak that thousands of pilgrims visited each year. At the top of the mountain was a footprint that the Christians believed was Noah’s, the Buddhist’s believed was Buddha’s, the Hindu’s believed was Siva’s and that the Moslem's believed was Mohammed’s. The place had become such a big attraction that over the centuries, pilgrims had carved some 20,000 steps to make it easier to make the climb. Easier was important as the big deal was that you are supposed to climb at night to greet the dawn high above the clouds. The mountain is a perfect cone and you can see it’s shadow on the tea plantations far below rushing towards you as the sun rises behind the mountain. Heathens were converted and sainthood attained at the sight. Well, we were sold!
Don Windsor, one of the few yacht agents in the world I actually liked, was the first to throw water on our fire. Apparently this was the Southwest monsoon season (well we knew that!) or the rainy season. The mountain could only be climbed during the dry season.
Undaunted, we told ourselves that he just wanted us to hang around his restaurant and drink his beer! Then we met a
nice tourist couple just down from the hill country who told us not to try the climb as they had heard that the trail was totally overgrown with vines and you had to cut your way through with a machete.
Another tourist told us that he had heard that last week a German hiker had been robbed and killed halfway up the slope. And yet another had heard that it was so wet that you had to ford through streams and pull off leeches constantly. A tour guide told us very earnestly that there were wild tigers on the mountain that will eat you alive!
Well! To climb or not to climb, that was the question. We figured we were used to rain after who knows how many squalls at sea and as for the rest, if we had to we could always turn back. The mountain sounded so cool that we just had to give it a try!
We got up at 2 am and started up the trail. It was Karen’s birthday so she was in great spirits. Soon we were on the steps, vine less; and the streams, all bridged. The people were as nice as could be. Most were monks of one religion or another living in retreats. As for the tigers, they must have busy eating the leeches as we didn’t see either. We got to the top after pushing and pulling each other up the last almost vertical 200 yards. I don’t think we were converted but we had a great time and the sunrise was totally spectacular!
A few months later and a bit down the track, while sailing up the Red Sea, we were warned by everyone we met how unfriendly and aggressive the Egyptians were. I mean everyone! It seemed that as you approach Suez the Canal agents would meet you at sea, trying to get your business. As you dealt with one agent another would ram you on the other side of your boat shouting his price for arranging a transit of the canal. We were told what terrible boat handlers the Egyptians were.
“They drive their boats like tanks and with about the same success!” we were informed.
“Best to bring cases of liquor and hundreds of one dollar bills to bribe your way through the canal.” Everyone let us know. And others told us that if we were so crazy as to want to visit Cairo, protect both your wallet and your wife vigorously as they were into the white slave trade big time.
After being lectured to for half an hour by one yachtie, I asked him if they also have wild tigers that will eat you alive! He didn’t understand, I didn’t explain.
We approached Suez during the night finding some two hundred ships in the bay. Some were anchored, some were steaming in erratic directions, shore boats tore around, tug boats threw up huge wakes. Oh, no! The terrible Egyptian boat handlers and we have to go through them!
First the fishing boats found us. We flashed on all our lights and they veered off. Then the harbor police headed towards us. We were used to the San Diego Harbor Police who will run you down for fun and politeness is most definitely not a word in their vocabulary. But our Egyptians zipped up 15 yards to leeward and asked, very politely, if we wanted a tow. All the shore boats kept to leeward also as we tacked through this quagmire in the normal Red Sea 30 knots. Hey!These guys are good! Where are the tank drivers? After 3 hours of tacking we reached our anchorage without even one tiger nip!
The long passage up the Red Sea was over and exhaustion replaced adrenaline. With the anchor set I fell into a deep sleep leaving Karen on watch. Soon the dreaded agents arrived. Each stood off twenty feet eager for our business. Karen sang out,
“We have already decided on the Prince.” They replied,
“Oh, fine, Madam. Sleep well, Madam. Mas salaam.”
“Rats,” Karen thought, “and these are supposed to be the bad guys?” as she regretfully put away her Sudanese sword!
During the three weeks we spent in Suez the “Prince of the Red Sea” our agent, was as polite as could be. He went beyond politeness to graciousness. He invited us to lunch at his club 3 times, introduced us to all the bigwigs and arranged for a free tow through the canal for engineless “Tola”. As a going away present, he gave Karen a caftan and me a partial refund of my transit fee. When we visited him in his office he even offered to share his hookah with us! I mean this guy gave new meaning to the word nice! And it wasn’t just him. We met an Egyptian fellow sailor anchored a couple of boats away. He invited us to spend a few days at his place in Cairo, showed us all the out of the way sites that we hadn’t seen yet and even popped for dinner! Did I have to protect my wallet and my wife? No way! In four days of walking around a city of 14 million, we felt safe and had a great time.
Hey! What is going on here? Everyone is telling us horror stories and they aren’t coming true. Why? Something doesn’t make sense.
A year and a half later we pulled into Colon to transit the Panama Canal. For years and years we had heard stories about the Canal. Turbulence in the locks, bad advisers, lazy line handlers. Every time the subject came up someone had a bad story to tell. From the sound of things, we were going to have to be lucky just to get through in one piece. I think we would have turned around and gone around the Horn if we hadn’t heard just an echo of tigers chomping on leeches!
And so it turned out to be. A French boat, El Golea, towed us through. In the locks our adviser positioned us in between the flood valves and it was as calm as could be expected. Our ships in front powered out slowly and we anchored for the night in a secret cul-de-sac that ranks as one of our favorite stops world wide.
How can reality be so different from the stories we hear? Do people exaggerate the dangers? Are we just lucky? Would people rather tell of horrors than joys? Are they just trying to scare us? Why do we listen?
So nowadays, as we sail from country to country and fellow sailors and travelers tell us of the terrible things awaiting us in the next port, we nod and politely listen. But always we remember our wild Sri Lankan Tigers--- THEY WILL EAT YOU ALIVE!!!
Want to buy this great book?
$2.00 How can you go wrong?