Between the stars

This is the story of how I ended up stranded in a small village on the western coast of Madagascar, beyond the reach of any guidebook or map.

The week before, I had met two travelers from France, P and J, who had told me it was possible to rent a pirogue in Morondava and spend a few days sailing to Morombe, several hundred kilometres down the coast.  I was growing frustrated with the snail-like pace of travel in Madagascar, and this would allow me to bypass some of the most awful roads in the region.  A sailor I met in Morondava explained that it would take four days to reach Morombe, that we would sail in the mornings and I could spend the afternoons exploring fishing villages that are not accessible by road.

On the first day, we left Morondava shortly before sunrise and arrived in Belo-sur-Mer at noon.  The winds were good and I was surprised at how quickly we zipped through the water.  J, another traveler who had joined me for the trip, whispered something about how sailing is so very efficient that motorized transport is completely unnecessary.  “Why doesn’t everyone sail everywhere, all the time?” he wondered.

Later that afternoon we were surprised to catch up with P and J, who had advised me to sail the coast rather than try to negotiate public transport, and who had taken four days to sail the route that had taken us just six hours.  P and J were were decidedly less enthused about sailing than they had been the week before.  “The first night we camped on a beach two kilometers from Morondava”, they told me.  “The next day we didn’t go anywhere.  Yesterday, we hiked fifteen kilometers with our backpacks and then realized we were still over 25 kilometers from Belo-sur-Mer and had to hire a zebu cart to take us the rest of the way.  We haven’t really eaten or showered in several days”

Oh no, I thought.

That evening, Gilbert, the head sailor on our ship, came to tell us that the winds had died down and that we should probably get an early start the next day if we were going to make it to the next town.  “So, we’ll leave at 3 am”, he decided.  “That way we will have plenty of time to get there before sundown”.

Does 3 am even qualify as the morning? I thought.  Isn’t that still night?

The next morning, we rowed out into the Indian Ocean under a blanket of stars.  The ocean glittered too, with phosphorescent plankton, and it seemed that the stars were both above and below me.  I counted ten shooting stars.  The wooden pirogue was small, my legs were cramped, and sleep was impossible.  But the light show was spectacular.

At 7 am the sun rose and the winds died.  Our little wooden boat drifted aimlessly on the ocean.  I tied a t-shirt around my head to protect myself from the sun and drifted into semi-consciousness.  The hours melted together.  There was nowhere to buy breakfast or lunch.  There was no room to move.

In the afternoon, a small breeze picked up and we began to move again.  Slowly, slowly, slowly.  Finally, in the late afternoon, Gilbert decided that we should dock and find a place to spend the night.  “There is a small village about three kilometers from here,” he said.  “With the winds against us, it will be faster to walk on the beach”.

We walked for three hours on empty beach.  Slowly, the beach began to fill with people.  A woman carrying fish.  A boy playing with rocks.  A man driving a zebu cart home.  They all stared at us curiously.  The woman said something in Malagasy and then laughed.

There was no restaurant in town, but we bought some fish samosas and manioc at the market.  There was a bar with cold beers – the only building in the village with electricity.  When we arrived the owner turned on a small tv in the corner so that we could watch music videos.  Almost instantly, hundreds of kids flooded the bar, singing and dancing along with the videos.  Older kids loitered outside, staring at us through the windows.

We went to bed early that night.  Gilbert had planned another 3 am departure.  The next day would see us stranded again, having to hitchike to get to the closest town.

But that is another story for another day.


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8 responses to “Between the stars”

  1. William Kelly says :

    Hey,Stay safe!!!! I always enjoy your posts, it takes me on little mini side trips that I am otherwise unable to do.
    I have a question for you if you don’t mind. I like you Recent Visitors widget. I did some reading on it as I would love to have one on my page. But the best I could come up with was that I could not use it as I am on and At least the way I read it I have to be on I am hoping that I am wrong and maybe you could steer me in the right direction!!!!
    Love the photo’s too. Please stay safe.
    Looking forward to more adventures!!!
    Brightest Blessings from Bowmanville, Ontario, Canada.

    • Megan says :

      Hi, ummm I am not the best at answering technological questions about the blog 😉 I think I just googled “feedjit” and then followed the instructions on how to add it to the webpage. I think it took me a while and a few tries because I am not very good at this kind of thing! I have rather than .org, so I don’t think that will be an impediment. Thanks, also, for your kind comments!

  2. asterisk * photography says :

    Oooh. What an adventure! I love living vicariously through you 😉 Kim*

  3. reckless.symmetry says :

    Hi, seems we were in Madagascar at the same time, though on diff coasts. I am still there. I am posting my trip on My style is a little different to yours, but I like your openness and adventuress-ness. (just discovered in the dict that an adventuress is a female adventurer – I thought I just couldn’t spell.

  4. chitchat140 says :

    Reblogged this on The Wandering Dreamer and commented:
    Adventure on the high seas!

  5. go1flo says :

    This is sooooooo beautiful!!

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