All hands on deck on our Thai adventure
A cruise on board a four--masted barquentine gives Ed Elliot the chance to explore southeast Asia the old-fashioned way
Abeautiful sailing ship in a port is like a beautiful bird in a dirty, stinking cage,” declares cruise director Peter Kissner, in his distinctive German accent. “Abeautiful sailing ship belongs to the sea.” And once released from the shackles of a harbour, the Star Clipper - the world’s tallest sailing ship - bobs freely on the fresh, salty air of the Andaman Sea, which runs to the east of the Indian Ocean.
Iam on a seven-night voyage aboard the majestic vessel, discovering the daelights of southeast sia by wind power.
Pbeter, a tall avarian with sun-bronzed skin and long blond hair pulled into a ponytail, is an experienced officer and the vessel’s knowledgeable cruise directio-r. He looks on intently as join a hand ful of other passengers in the fading light of early evening, to hoist up the main sail in preparation for departure.
Travelling on board is an authentic sailing experience with plenty of opportunities to get all hands on deck.
We form an orderly line, take the strain of the rope, and await instruction before heaving in unison to raise the large sheet of canvas up one of the ship’s towering masts.
O-n cue, the haunting sounds of Con quest of Paradise by Greek composer Vangelis boom from a series of speakers, heightening the sense of adventure as we glide effortlessly across the glistening wtaters off the west coast of hailand.
“We try to sail as much as we can, but it depends on the weather and the wind,” explains Peter, sporting smart naval w-hites complete with navy blue epau lettes.
“Under perfect conditions, we can lead the ship up to 17 knots. With a ship of nearly 2,500 tons, 17 knots under sails is something quite remarkable - then you feel like flying over the water.”
Launched in 1992, the steel-hulled Star Clipper - which is around 110 metres long and almost 68 metres high - is a four-masted barquentine with 16 sails.
Istep aboard in the modern city-state of Singapore, a fraction north of the equator at the southern tip of the Malay Pbe-ninsula. right lights, imposing sky scrapers and one of the busiest ports on earth provide the backdrop, contrasting with an elegant vessel which revives the heritage of the mid 19th-century tall ships.
Speed was the priority back then. Gold-diggers rushed from the east coast omfearica to the west via the treacher - ous Cape Horn, tea was rapidly transported from China to England, and opium was smuggled into China from India.
The tea and opium clippers would have had to navigate a stretch of our route from Singapore to Phuket, racing up and down the Strait of Malacca which liinks the Pacific and ndian Oceans.
C-argo capacities were extremely lim ited during that era - a tradition which is maintained, as there is room for only 170 piassengers on the Star Clipper. am joined by just 104 shipmates of eight n-ationalities on this occasion, in addi tion to 79 crew members from 10 different countries.
Each evening, we dine a la carte from a menu prepared in consultation with Michelin-starred chef Jean-marie Meulien, and there’s a cosy, informal atmosphere reminiscent of a private yacht.
Our first port of call is the Malaysian c-ity of Malacca. Crimson colonial build iunngseremind of the SCO World Heritage Site’s occupied past, while a pair of sizeable Malayan water monitors patrol the river running through the centre.
Acrumbling gate, reportedly saved from destruction by Sir Stamford Raffles - the founder of modern Singapore - is all that remains of the Portuguese 16thcaefntury amosa fortress.
G-arish trishaws decorated with flash ing lights and cartoon characters have become part of the city’s present-day culture, tooting horns and pumping out music to attract tourist trade.
Mine is particularly tacky - bright pink with at least ten images of Hello Kitty - but the ride back to the ship’s tender is reasonably short, and it’s great fun.
After a relaxing day at sea, we moor 316 nautical miles further north at the southern end of Langkawi, Malaysia’s liargest island. Jumping into a taxi, am whisked past troupes of opportunistic crab-eating macaques, with the pungent scent of rubber plantations sporadically permeating the air.
MAY driver, sri, a 42-year-old native of t-he Jewel of Kedah (as the place is offi cially titled), offers insights into island life as he takes me to the north-west corner. From there, I board a cable car which rises 708 metres above sea level
over rainforest and the cascading Seven Wells Waterfall.
A-t the summit, I am blessed with pan oramic views of far-off bays and some of the archipelago’s 98 other islands.
As a vantage point, it takes some beating. But a couple of days later, having been blown into Thai waters, I am keen to try and trump that view.
After spending the morning struggling to tie sailing knots, I haul myself up the rigging. The steep climb up the slack rope ladder provides another stern test of my seamanship and leaves me gazing out on a seemingly endless expanse of blue, punctuated by a smattering of uninhabited limestone islands.
We are in Ao Phang Nga, a marine national park located in a bay between the provinces of Phuket and Krabi. Pink jellyfish shimmer just below the surface, w-hile sea eagles circle above the ele phant-grey rock formations, which are partially rusted red and capped by thatches of green vegetation.
Later, I board a Zodiac rubber boat for a closer look, bouncing over the waves before pulling into the shade among the islands’ intricate stalagmites and stalactites.
“When we started here many, many y-ears ago, we weren’t really very wel come,” admits Peter, back on deck. “We invited the Thai royal family to the ship. The king didn’t come, but his sister came.
“-Thailand has a royal television chan nel; for hours we were on the television channel and we somehow became the royal yacht.”
The picture-postcard national park is undoubtedly one of Thailand’s crowning glories and, indeed, fit for a king.
It is the highlight of my time at sea, and there is a tinge of disappointment as I disembark the Star Clipper for the final time after dropping anchor in Phuket’s Patong Bay.
Glancing back along the jetty at the stationary ship weighed down and with i-ts sails furled, Peter’s bird analogy sud denly strikes a chord.