India

1985 -- This was an interesting place. First things first, I nearly died here. More about that later. Upon nearing the coast, we were accosted by pirates in the guise of fishermen, who demanded clothing off us. Needless to say, we tried to humour them, bringing out our clothing, but they weren't hip enough for them! This is so funny, remembering back. They wanted clothing with 'Nike' and 'Adidas'—which we, as poor yachties, did not have. It is really quite humourous, that most foreigners think yachties are rich. In reality, we are/were all pov.

Some friends of ours were also approaching the coast at about this time, but something even scarier happened to them—they hit a whale. Normally, if say Pampero hit a whale, I would not be sitting here typing this out. Pampero would be at the bottom of the sea, and I would too, if we hadn't managed to get aboard a liferaft or were rescued. But their yacht was fibro, and they managed fine. They went over it, and never saw it come up. Perhaps they hurt the poor whale.

Anyhow, back to business … we were there towards the end of the year -- I know this because my father dressed up as Santa Claus and gave all the local children lollies. He had the greatest fun—the costume is floating around the house somewhere, I saw it not too long ago—with my brother tagging along behind.

We were in a river in one of the cities, and it was there that I nearly died. I was playing with my brother in the dinghy, which was floating behind the yacht, tied on. We decided to climb back aboard, and we tried to beat each other there. He pulled the dinghy in, went aboard, then looked down at me.

Miffed, I stayed on the dinghy, waiting Damien to go elsewhere. When he did, I pulled the dinghy in, let the rope go, and then tried to get aboard. I slipped and fell.

The resounding splash must have alerted them, for the next thing that I can remember was trying to keep afloat in the very strong river tides. I was being pulled under, and the few times that my head broke the water, I could see dinghies from all over coming to my rescue. Some locals were heading my way, and my father was also.

Then, just as I went back under the water, exhausted and unable to hold my head up any longer, my father pushed his hand under the water and grabbed my hair, pulling me into the dinghy. I swear I got hugged the most in my life after that incident.

I blamed my brother—a lie, I know it for a lie to this day—to try to not get into trouble. He was yelled at for a bit, I think, then he was exonerated. Phil tells me that everyone had seen, and had come on the run (well, rowing like mad in their dinghies and boats). He was very friendly towards the locals after that, very friendly, and I was kept an eye on. I think that my mother cried … I can't remember quite that clearly.

Phil had to go to Bombay, because we were meant to have money wired to the city where we were in, but the banks must have gotten their wires crossed *s* because it went elsewhere. My parents weren't too impressed, needless to say.

Asking me about the money matters won't really get you much; I wasn't too interested. I was more interested in playing, etc. One good thing that I can report is that the near-drowning incident didn't affect my love for the water—next time that I was able, I was in and getting wet again.