In late 2001 I took a trip to the southern town of Satun. The story I wrote about this gateway to the Malaysian island of Langkawi and the nearby Thai national park islands of Tarutao and Lipe, among others, appeared soon after.
Among the photos included in my story was one of a wrecked Indonesian fishing boat.
As I wrote at the time: ‘The port area is the place that most foreign visitors to Satun first see, the majority coming from, rather than heading too, Malaysia and the one ferry I saw disgorged a horde of Malay and Thai passengers and only one Westerner.
Left of the berth for the Langkawi-Satun Ferry lies the Anjas Moro.
Listing heavily to starboard it serves as a salient reminder that these waters are home to smugglers and the odd Thai version of Long John Silver.
A senior Customs officer told me the Anjas Moro was a wooden-hulled Indonesian fishing boat caught a number of years ago smuggling a large quantity of heroin.
A naval patrol boat was tied to a jetty while further down, at another pier, were three Customs vessels: two speedboats and a launch.
The Customs officer told me he sometimes spent up to three weeks off the coast engaged in surveillance operations.’
Not long after the article appeared I was given a hand-written letter that had been delivered to the offices of the Pattaya Mail.
Written by a man named Bob McDonald, it told a sad story of a father’s desperate hunt for his missing son.
McDonald was staying at a central Pattaya hotel and it was my piece on Satun, and especially the Indonesian boat, which prompted him to write to me.
I was reminded of his letter recently after coming across the picture of the aforementioned vessel while looking through some of my old photos.
I have reproduced the bulk of that letter, unedited, below.
‘I lost my son in the Indian Ocean in 1977-78. He and 5 others were sailing from Sri Lanka to Phuket on a 51 foot Canadian yacht called ‘Crusader’. November 11 1977 they talked by radio to Bangkok and Colombo- “heavy seas, heading back.”
Never heard from since.
My searches of Sri Lanka, Andaman and Nicobar islands, Indonesia, Malaysia and Thailand proved futile with the exception of an Indonesian fishing boat operator (now a member of Parliament) who says the boat called in to his home port of Sabang on Pulau Weh. It was damaged, no radio and they were heading for Phuket. He gave them water, bananas. They moved off quickly rather than go through Customs etc,
He thinks pirates got them. Piracy was a weekly occurrence then and I personally witnessed one whilst flying overhead.
I went to Satun as all roads led there and arranged a 5am boat to visit Koh Adang group.
I had posted ‘wanted’ signs and a reward of 30,000 baht which I knew could be dangerous.
At 1am the fisherman woke me and said I must get out of Satun ‘now’. He wouldn’t take me on his boat. I went.
3 days later I flew over Adang group and there was a yacht there!
My flight was illegal so authorities couldn’t help me any further.
I know one day someone will find a piece of wreckage and my problem is solved.
You could not mistake Canadian maple with the Asian fishing boat construction. Also Crusader was sheathed in fibreglasss.
If pirates got her, the mast would be removed and cabin structure replaced. She was 9 ft beam, had a keel, a large 6-cylinder motor diesel/petrol?…[the letter continued for a couple more paragraphs not relevant to this story] Don’t worry to reply if no news. Every enquiry is worth a try even after 23 years.’
A very matter-of-fact letter. Yet there is no doubting the heartache within its terse sentences. Here is a father who knows beyond doubt his son is gone forever. The hollow pit that would have formed in his stomach when he first realised his son was missing all those years ago would have gnawed away every day thereafter.
I didn’t reply as, indeed, I had no news or information I could impart.
I do not know if Bob McDonald is still alive. I suspect he was in his late sixties or early seventies when he penned that letter.
I can only hope that by putting this story out into a forum as wide and pervasive as the Internet it might just jog a memory of something seen but not understood so many years ago.