AFTER my unscheduled trip home for Christmas my return to Thailand was only made bearable by the thought that I was leaving a freezing-cold England. I found it a wrench to leave home and family once again.

By January 5 we were back at sea heading for Sri Lanka (formerly Ceylon). By January 13 we were seven miles from Galle on the south-west tip of Sri Lanka and due to a miscalculation made a night landfall.

On January 15 I went off on a five-day tour of the island with the crew of the rally yacht Yohoho.

We had a great time seeing temples with giant Buddhas surrounded by gold and riches and relics beyond price — in the midst of much poverty.

The national parks have real wild animals living in their natural habitat.

Tea plantations spread for miles and there are small areas of rubber trees still producing. Every river and waterfall is the local people's laundry, shower, bath and playground. Whole families seemed happy washing, bathing and playing there.

The dancers told traditional stories of the triumph of good over evil and the fire walkers enacted the ancient story of an accused lover, female, who to prove her chastity walked over fire with no ill effects.

These firewalkers were men and I doubt they were chaste. It was something to see, but not particularly entertaining.

From the mountain town of Haputale (ha poo tahl ee) we took a train. Very British. It was reminiscent of the trains and the small printed ticket cards of the 1950s and 1960s that I remember travelling on as a boy.

The only difference was that now the towing engine is a diesel.

We were so pleased to have taken this mountain route on the train, as the views and sights were wonderful.

The Hill Club, at Nuwara-Eliya, founded 1876, is a typical gentlemen's club of the British Raj where snobbery ruled.

The buildings and interior of old stone and wood were splendid. Wooden beams, panelled walls and shining timber floors gave the rooms a tranquillity.

After lunch we reclined in the smoke room with coffee, port and a great feeling of being very superior.

The gardens and lawns were artistic in design and pristine in upkeep.

When we expressed our admiration, the local gardeners smiled proudly and said 'thank you very much, sir', with a little bow.

To Kandy next, and the Riverdale Hotel. The Elephant Orphanage which we visited the following day was a typical tourist trap but with a twist.

The tourists' money helped to keep 62 elephants in comfort and happiness for the rest of their days.

They are not all orphans. Some had been sick, mentally and physically. Orphans were made through poaching which we were told is now declining rapidly in Sri Lanka, perhaps due to high penalties, i.e. death if caught in the act.

Some had been injured during the long war in the north of the island as well as in terrorist attacks. A seven year-old had half of its right front leg missing from stepping on a land mine.

Keepers told us this would normally kill an animal but this elephant was strong and brave and had miraculously survived.

Imagine Brentor Church, multiply its height and size by 12, build a fort on top, which was never attacked but used a pleasure palace, and you have Sigriya, built by a flamboyant king called Kasyapa (477-495). There are about 1,300 steps and at the top the most wonderful views.

Last but by no means least I must mention the driving. Our driver, Nandi, was very good but like most of Sri Lankan drivers, he followed the highway code of 'every man for himself'.

They will overtake anywhere — it was frightening. The worst incidents were on blind bends. We started out by taking it in turns to sit upfront next to the driver of our minibus, but in the end none of us really wanted to. By the grace of God we got back to the marina safely.

Back on board our boat Alf-a-bet it was time for work — oil changes and routine engine work, provisioning, refuelling and water.

By January 22 we were on our way to Uligamu in the Maldive Islands where we dropped anchor among the reefs on January 25.

Uligamu was most certainly a chill-out rest station. As it was Buddhist and alchohol-free with no restaurant, we led a spartan life: reading, walking, snorkelling, swimming and enjoying not having to do much at all.

The islanders organised several meals of pumpkin and fish curry, local salad of raw broccoli, sweet and ordinary potatoes, fried and boiled rice, chilli sauces, pieces of very strong dried fish and tuna, all this presented, buffet fashion, accompanied by hot sweet black tea and nice well water.

After 12 days of relaxation, hours of superb snorkelling and swimming with manta rays, we weighed anchor and set sail for Djibouti and the Red Sea.

This journey was notorious for the threat of piracy.