Salalah, Port of Pirates and Extortionists

“Salalah Port Control, this is Yacht Freedom requesting entry into Port Salalah?”

“Yacht Freedom, this is Salalah Port Control, do you have an agent in Salalah?”

This was our first warning, but we thought that we had moved up a notch from the ‘Third World’ ports where we had been. How wrong we were.

“Salalah, we are only entering port to uplift fuel and then departing.”

Wrong!

“Yacht Freedom, you have to have an agent to enter Port Salalah!”

Second warning, but we did not know it at the time.

After getting a list of agents from the port control we chose one at random and phoned him. He wanted to know all sorts of details like the last ten ports we had visited, our ship’s registration number (only required for ships over 100tons), if anyone had died on board and the Captain’s great aunt’s maiden name. Not quite, but you get the drift!

I explained that we were in transit and only needed to uplift fuel because of contamination, but they were having none of it.

We were given entry permission and we motored past enormous container ships that were in the process of docking, with all their anti-piracy barbed wire entanglements around the deck, and dummy guards which were supposed to give pirates the impression that they were being surveilled, but were in fact looking a bit weather worn, rather like abandoned scarecrows.

Ship with dummy guards and barbed wire protection

 

You have to admire the bravery of these pirates that they are prepared to climb up homemade rickety ladders to scale the towering sides of these ships, while balanced in a slippery skiff pounding along the side of the ship at twenty knots.

Would US Navy Seals do that?

I wonder.

We were directed to wharf 28 which was a dirty place to tie up next to a fishing boat manned by an Indian crew. They helped us into position.

The ‘agent’ from Gulf Agencies was there to meet us with a bill for $3200.

Whaaat?

“Oh yes,” he said.

Fees for this, fine for that and on top of which was a fee of $1200 for entering the port of Salalah.

I protested strongly and demanded to see the port authority and after much haggling got the bill reduced to €1660, which was about a forty percent reduction, but still ridiculous, but it did include a 500 litre fuel uplift. Eventually I decided that we should consider the fuel to be €3 per litre and forget the chagrin.

When I demanded a receipt I got a hand written note. I shall be taking this up with the headquarters of Gulf Agency in due course, because I love a scrap. It seems obvious to me that the port authority and the agency have a scam going for individual private yachts that don’t go on the books, but which are fleeced for cash which goes to line everyone’s pockets.

But it gets more sinister than that.

While we were tied up another large boat arrived, made in Iran and which was the exact duplicate of a ‘mother ship’ pirate vessel which was seized in the Seychelles and pictured in the ‘Grail Guide for Antipiracy’ book, page 19. What finally happened to that ship is not clear, but this one was either a sister ship, or the same one renovated.

The skipper was an Iranian who spent a lot of his time staring at us, rather like a farmer staring at his turkey flock and his fattest cock-bird just before Thanksgiving.

It was a very uncomfortable feeling.

Ian spoke to the crew and told them he was leaving us and going home, which was not the best move as now they knew that we would be only three on board.

That night, late, an unmarked box was delivered to the Iranian boat which was just the right size to hold a couple of heavy machine guns. I know those boxes, having ferried a few in my time, by air, around Africa.

Later, at about 0300 an Agency car arrived and was given a couple of decent sized tuna from the boat, which he put in the boot and drove away.

I knew something had to done.

Ian was due to be picked up in the morning and taken to the airport at Salalah and we were supposed to be given our final clearance documents. We were sorry to be losing Ian as he had been such a stalwart crew member, putting up with all the adversities along the route and rising to every occasion with a sense of humour.

“Only take one hour.” They said.

I saw the Iranian Captain standing on the shore next to the boat, looking like a grumpy grizzly bear that had missed the salmon run.

“Good morning,” I said.

“American?” he said, gesturing towards the American flag at the stern of Freedom.

“No, British!” I answered.

I realised as I said it, that wasn’t much better, ever since Puppy Dog Blair had followed the Americans into the Middle East War.

“We are going to Djibouti.” I volunteered.

He grunted and turned away. I hoped he believed that, because Ian had told them that we had already come from Egypt.

Iranian built boat, sister ship of captured pirate vessel in Seychelles

 

The Iranian boat left half an hour later, while we were delayed for several hours. They needed proof of insurance, because otherwise they were going to fine us another $200. We gave them a sheaf of paperwork which confused them just long enough to sign the clearance, and then we were off.

While in the port we found a small shop that serviced the needs of the sailors of the cargo vessels that stop at the port. This place was like the bar in first episode of Star Wars, with such a wide variety of ‘types’ from all over the world. There were two Somali ex-pirates who now had a job as ‘security guards’ on a commercial ship, and they made the pirates of the Black Pearl look positively handsome by comparison. I wonder if they also had a mobile phone to contact their ex-colleagues? There were Indian fishermen who were being castigated by a Somali Fishing Boat Captain for being in these waters and stealing fish. There were shady looking individuals who came under the general heading of ‘Eastern’ and also the officers from a Chinese Naval Ship that was patrolling the offshore waters. It is fascinating to think that the people rubbing shoulders in this small shop could be shooting at each other next day.

Once we were outside the port the authorities realised that we had given them a complex quote for insurance, and not a real insurance contract.

The reality is that no one can get insurance for running the Pirate Gauntlet.

So they were making yet another scam claim for money, on a certainty, but we were already outside the port and on our way. Of course we promised them all sorts of things, just until we got out of gunboat range. It didn’t seem likely that they would get the Coast Guard to get us back, because then they would have to include the Coast Guard in any future scams that they might run on foreign yachts. The Coast Guard seemed to us to be conducted at a high level, as was the local Police, and not stooping to petty scams on visiting yachts.

We felt sure that by now the Iranian boat had had time to fit his heavy machine guns, and get a good start towards the Omani/Yemeni border at sea. His most likely place for ambush would be, we thought, about fifty miles inside Yemeni waters from ten to thirty miles offshore.

If he has outguessed us, he would position himself about ten miles offshore along the Omani coast which is where most yachts go in order to pick up the following wind and current along the shore, in a wide sweep around towards the Indian Ocean and its destinations.

We decided instead to route out to sea, which would take us towards the recommended safety route and towards possible coalition warships, and also into a contrary current that we would have to battle against, but would be better than confronting a pirate.

The current from the south past Socotra Island at certain times of the year reaches seven knots and is reported to be the strongest in the world. Also at certain times of the year the frequency of gales here is higher than Cape Horn, with its formidable reputation.

Not the sort of place that Pirates like to hang about waiting for the off chance of a passing boat.

If and when we get to Seychelles I will be starting an animated series of emails with the headquarters of the Gulf Agencies and with the Harbourmaster of Salalah, who happens to be a South African who was away on leave during our brief visit. I will also be contacting the Office of Criminal Investigations in Muscat to find out the legality of the port authority levying fines for the list of things they presented to us.

I have also promised a report to the Pirate monitoring bureau in the UK regarding Salalah, with reference as to why the port authority is so interested in insurance cover for passing boats, if it is not to inform the pirates of the valuation of boats for ransom purposes.

There is also the question of if that ‘box’ did contain heavy machine guns, who supplied them and where did they come from? I am sceptical of the aims of Private Armies, or mercenaries, because their objectives are often to ensure their contracts are renewed, rather than meet the objectives of their employers. In this case there is a thriving business in supplying ex military people to act as security guards on ships, armed and ready to fire on any boat suspected of being a pirate boat. They have not had a good hijacking for a year, so I believe that it would be in their interest to have bloody incident involving, not a ship, but a private boat which would hit the headlines and ensure their future employment.

Would they find it worth while to arm an Iranian with a chip on his shoulder, for personal gain?

I know this is a very sceptical view of the situation, but after two months in these waters I have become slightly paranoid.

I hope not with good reason.

I shall be warning the other yachtsmen that I know of the dangers enroute and the dangers of the Port of Salalah.

I have come to the conclusion that when people of most religions lose their faith they still seem to retain a certain sense of morality and a sense of right and wrong, but in this part of the world that does not seem to be the case.

Once you have let slip the chains of a severely restrictive religion, anything is permissible and possible.

And likely!