Eye witness report of Malaysian tsunami

The calm of Telaga Harbour, Malaysia before the
tsunami.  Photo: Asia Boat Rag

Wednesday,  January  5, 2005

The following is a report, sent to long-term Cayman resident, Marian Polack, by a couple cruising in the area of Telaga Harbour in Malaysia, of their experience during the recent Southeast Asian tsunamis.

Everything is getting back to normal in a somewhat altered world swept away by powerful water. Awesome and scary the power of the elements, whether it is air, fire or water.

Fortunately for us we were sitting at anchor in a sheltered bay outside of Telaga Harbour Marina, protected by two small man-made islands. We had chosen this spot to spend Christmas and New Year as it is peaceful and beautiful, protected from the north-east trade winds, with stunning views of the Matchincang range of mountains, forest and beach. The two little islands behind us are ideal for Tara to run free on without hassle from anyone. 

So there we were on Boxing Day and Robert had decided to look up the tide tables for the area to correct the tide clock. Robert told me it was high tide. I looked towards the shore and rather scathingly told him that it certainly was not, the water was right out and the fishing boats were high and dry on the sand. 

Being nearly full moon this was totally possible and so we exchanged some rather acrimonious comments, such as, “Do you think I am stupid and can’t read the tables?” “Well my eyes aren’t deceiving me and the water is right out.” “These tables are quite correct.” “Maybe you are in the wrong hemisphere.” “Look, I’m not the village idiot you know.”

At that moment a call on channel 69 of the VHF alerted us that there were strange waves breaking outside. Looking up I saw a great wave curling and breaking before the entrance gap of the islands, the sunlight shining through the green water like a surfer’s dream come true. Only it shouldn’t have been there and when Nature plays a trick like that the mind won’t register the change and says - oh no, that’s not possible. 

I shouted for Robert to come and look and he leapt up from the computer, took one glance and said, “Start the motor.” 

We were stern to the flooding water pouring through the entrance and he had the presence of mind to reverse into it, stretching out our anchor chain away from the beach and even though it walloped into us and shoved us forward it did not pull out the anchor due to the full force of our powerful motor. 

It swept under us and roared up the beach only to return in full force once again from the other direction. By this time we were turned sideways on with our beam to the tossing waves, which chucked us around like a matchstick. But Deusa is a very strong matchstick and although all our belongings down below were thrown to the floor, she and ourselves suffered no damage at all - what a miracle. 

The lagoon became a swirling bathtub with the sea rushing in and out almost like it was breathing. Every few minutes the surge would change direction after the initial three waves that came pounding in.

The marina basin lies inside a protected channel, is newly built and quite solid. It was full of yachts, not one empty berth. We watched in horror as the yachts tied up in there started throwing backwards and forwards, clashing masts, and then the strangest thing happened; they all started moving in a macabre carnival carousel, whirling in great circles around the marina in the swirl of rushing water, the pontoons wrenched from their pilings. 

As the water started to recede, they poured out through the channel, spat into the lagoon where we were anchored. The first boat out we recognised - Kihoe - belonging to a friend of ours who is now land-based. Deusa by now was stabilised and holding on her anchor so we leapt into the dinghy and headed for Kihoe, climbing on board to drop the anchor. 

However our scrabbling fingers were unaccustomed to the different anchoring set-up and we were being swept towards the beach and rocks. So we then found some lines and made one fast to a cleat and tried to tow her to a nearby mooring but to no avail. Therefore the only solution was to guide her out through the gap between the two small islands and, in the comparative calm of the open ocean, try and get an anchor out. 

With both of us in the dinghy and using the 25hp motor to push the stern and then the bow we managed to steer her clear of deadly hazards as the sea swept her out. The trouble was that the sea was still moving in and out in a weird tidal flow and we only had a few moments to release the anchor before she would be swept back in again.

The story ends well - we got the anchor down and she was safe.

We then went on to do this with five or six other boats as they drifted free of the tangled mess coming from the marina. Some still had pontoons tied to them, which we had to cut free. Most boats were locked and put away for the Christmas holidays while owners travelled to visit family and friends. It was an interesting challenge to try and free anchor chains from the windlasses, drag the chain out of the locker across the deck and then not get our feet caught in it as we dropped the anchor. 

One doesn’t think of the danger at the time and only afterwards, on reflection does one shudder to play the ‘what if’ game. 

A catamaran that we rescued was totally surrounded by pontoons that were a big drag in the current. We got them cut away and then a floating fisherman’s hut with rusty old tin roofing came and lay right across the anchor rope (it had some chain but mostly rope) with the roof resting precariously near the rope. 

Robert was in the dinghy but the current was so swift he could not push the hut away without getting swept under the catamaran so we just had to hope it wouldn’t chafe. And it didn’t, as it finally drifted loose and went off to sea where the fisherfolk rescued it.

One poor boat we were unable to help as it had no anchor on board and was locked. Sadly we saw her drift away as we went after others with visible anchors. But she has a charmed life because she drifted into the rocks where she settled for the night and we watched her by the light of the full moon as she gently lay over to rest at low tide. Next morning she was gone - out to sea we presumed. But no, the fishermen had found her and towed her back to safety in the harbour, someone had loaned an anchor and she was rescued with only a few scratches.

Dazed and battered people were saving their boats all around us, motoring out to deep water away from the shore, dropping their anchors and inspecting their injuries. One French aluminium boat was punctured on both sides above the waterline and had stuffed mattresses and pillows into the gaping wounds.

Right now there are three boats on the beach behind us on the island. A concrete boat that is resting on rocks and sand, with a hole in her hull. Her owner will arrive tomorrow and will have to mix some cement before moving her. 

A French fibreglass boat lies near her with her keel firmly wedged in the sand. Yesterday there was a big digging session and then we were all on the beach until 2am trying to shift her with a tug boat and a power boat. Moved her about three metres so will try again today. 

There is also a very surprised trimaran who had pottered over to the beach at high tide to do some minor repairs and before he knew what was happening the water went all out and then all in and he was swept up to the tree line, far higher than he ever anticipated! Now he says he will settle down for a long stay and do major repairs! A friend of ours has lost her boat, holed and sunk in Telaga, her house swept away from the beach, her car and computer gone. As a yacht broker all her work is on the computer - she is wiped out.

Rebak Marina some two nautical miles from Telaga Harbour had a similar experience with all boats and pontoons swept out to sea. These two marinas that were considered so safe are on the west coast of Langkawi where the major surge of water happened. 

Who, in their wildest dreams, thinks of tsunamis when storing their boat or thinking of a safe haven. Many people use their boats as retirement homes and have settled comfortably into marina life with light, water, air-conditioning and companionship. 

This is now all torn apart in a few short hours and they are all anchored out, bewildered and forlorn. The local staff of these two marinas was totally shell-shocked and unable to do much at all. The Navy Police came around in their big blue power boats but when asked to help anchor boats, were unable to do so.

However, they did go around to everyone who was on board, enquiring if they were okay. Basically the yachting community all helped each other as they always do and there are lots of unsung heroes out there doing good things.

Now there is only the Royal Langkawi Yacht Club that has marina facilities in Langkawi and it is full to bursting. Amazingly it suffered very little damage as the tsunami had to turn a corner and run up the channel and so it took the sting out of the waves.

One boat from Rebak was sunk, a Warren Catamaran called Bambola. We took Deusa down to Rebak to talk to people there and on our way sailing back we saw something strange in the water about a mile away. Getting closer we saw the upturned red hull of a boat, with a dinghy attached and thought with horror of people adrift, no radio, and no water. 
No such thing - as we got closer they waved us away shouting that there were trailing lines and would get caught in our prop. They were a salvage operation, diving on the hull, pulling out of it what they could. When we asked the name of the boat they said they didn’t know and acted most suspiciously, saying they were working for Rebak Marina. Later we phoned Rebak to give the GPS position of the wreck and they said they knew nothing of people doing salvage for them.

They were welcome to what they could get, the boat was well out to sea - but their manner was most suspect - we wonder who they were? By the way the floating hazard was Bambola. 

Of course in disasters like this there are lots of rumours flying around and one that kept on threatening us was that there were aftershocks in Sumatra and that we should expect another wave. We all upped anchor and moved further offshore where we spent an anxious Boxing Day night watching the flotsam and jetsam drift past, some quite large and dangerous pieces of pontoon, logs and unidentified objects. 

The weird thing was that the currents were not running normally with an incoming tide running north and out moving south. It was switching every ten minutes or so and just when something particularly nasty had drifted past and seemed out of harm’s way, oh no! Here it comes back again. 

The strange movement of the sea, the awful power of the water, the unexpectedness of it all, left everyone exhausted and nervous, almost like Nature had played a foul trick and the subconscious was picking up on something that the conscious was not really registering.

What happened to all of us in Langkawi was nothing in comparison to the devastation everywhere else and as the death toll rises we count ourselves so lucky we are all here and unhurt.

Robert and Rosemary

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