Sailing Back in Time — Right off the Map!

These are traditional Malagasy and Mozambican dhows — the same kind that have sailed these waters for centuries. Watching them in motion is like seeing time itself shrug off the modern world. Most have no motor at all; they live and die by the wind, their patched-together sails catching whatever breath the ocean decides to give them.

The dhows of Madagascar are descendants of ancient vessels that once linked Arabia, Africa, and Asia in the age of sail. Their design traces back over a thousand years — narrow wooden hulls with sharp bows, stitched or pegged planks, and lateen sails that can tack against the wind with surprising efficiency. These boats carried spices, ivory, and slaves across the Indian Ocean long before Europeans arrived — which is insane to me, having crossed it on a modern boat. I can’t imagine doing that on one of those — actually, scratch that, I can. Nope!

Today, they are still built by hand on the beach from local timber, with sails cut from rice sacks or patchwork canvas. Their captains navigate by instinct and coastal landmarks, setting out at dawn and returning at dusk with the tide — a rhythm unchanged for generations.

I find myself writing about this part of the world a lot — it was all so foreign to me, and I loved it so much!

It’s funny — I actually almost missed this part of the world. My original plan was to sail from Thailand, Sri Lanka, and the Maldives into the Mediterranean through the Red Sea, but my timing in Thailand lined up with Israel invading Gaza, and the Houthis started attacking ships off Yemen. Add Somali piracy to that cocktail, and suddenly the northern route didn’t look so inviting.

So, like a lot of folks, I headed southeast instead — Cocos Keeling, Mauritius, Réunion, and Madagascar across The Indian Ocean, before sailing south down the Mozambique Channel to South Africa, stopping in Mozambique along the way. Almost everyone I knew had intended to go to the Med, and every single one of us ended up in Africa.

And it was a gift — plain and simple. Africa, Madagascar, Mozambique… that whole part of the world. It’s raw, unpolished, untouched, and often uninhabited. I’ve always been drawn to places where culture still breathes — where things haven’t been sanded down for tourists, where the map thins out and the stories still feel real.

Give me Madagascar over Mauritius, Micronesia over Australia, Lombok over Bali, the Lau Group over the Yasawas, the Tuamotus over the Societies... No resorts. No pretense. Just wind, water, and the kind of honesty the ocean seems to save for the far corners of the world.

Days Sober: 2,159