There are two kinds of yachtsmen – those who have run aground, and those who have yet to. In the afternoon of a June day in the channel separating Penang from Malaysia’s mainland, I am firmly in the former camp.

Firmly is the operative word, for the six-foot keel of my yacht is being clung to by the cloying clay of a bank that according to my chart, is in the wrong place. But as I steamed, over-confidently south in the shallows, I knew I was cutting it fine, the falling tide only deepening my culpability. But, hey, if you can’t share these poor judgements, laugh at them and hopefully learn from them, then you shouldn’t be out here.

We are at this point just a few weeks into a six-month South East Asia sailing ’oddysey’ taking us from a home base at Phuket’s Yacht Haven, south down the Malacca Straits, through the islands off the western coast of Thailand and Malaysia, and on to Singapore.

From here the cruise will see us in the South China Sea, around the southern tip of Peninsula Malaysia, and north along its eastern coast, eventually re-entering Thailand where (from Koh Phangan) we will cross the Gulf of Thailand to the Koh Chang and Koh Kut archipelagos near the Thai-Cambodian border.

On board my 40-foot sailing sloop Babadudu is my crew-woman ‘Kulot’ a young Filipina on a career sabbatical.

After a first night stop at Phi Phi, the village of Old Lanta on the east coast of Koh Lanta proves a welcome contrast to Ton Sai Bay’s tourist shanty town. So, too, does Tarutao, Thailand’s most southerly island before its border with Malaysia. Once a brutal penal colony, many of the inmates turned to piracy in the mid-1940s, perhaps accounting in part for the Malacca Straits’ reputation for piracy.

I am asked repeatedly by friends, both in Thailand and elsewhere, ‘aren’t you afraid of pirates?’ The answer is ‘no’, but only because the evidence of more recent years suggests that an encounter with Capt Jack Sparrow is most unlikely.

We enter Malaysia through Langkawi and the stunningly picturesque ‘Hole in the Wall’,
an anchorage ringed by forested cliffs, fringed with mangrove swamps around which eagles dive on fish spotted through the brackish waters.

Sixty miles and a week later we are in Penang, the highlight of a motorcycle circumnavigation being Penang Hill from which the Union Jack fluttered when Penang was one of the crown jewels of the British Empire.

This brings us to our departure from Penang and our grounding less than a mile from the
Georgetown marina. With the help of rising water and the thrust of a tow-boat’s twin 145hp engines we eventually inch the 100 metres to the channel leading to the broad span of Penang Bridge with its myriad navigational, fishing and other lights.

When darkness falls we set up what becomes a routine watch system three hours on, three hours off the watch-keeper being responsible for keeping a lookout, maintaining our course, rimming the sails, and generally managing the boat while the other rests.

After two nights in Lamut harbour, we head on to Klang, Malaysia’s largest port, which sits in a soup of silt, sewage, and other detritus, stirred by fierce currents and the constant wash of everything from juggernauts to tramp steamers. We spend several days at Klang’s well run elangor Yacht Club and take a train trip to Kuala Lumpur.

From Klang we catch a favourable tide for the two night slog to Singapore, hugging the Malaysian coast and with the aid of radar steering clear of the container ships, tankers and tugboats that bear down the Malacca Straits, often oblivious to small craft such as ours.

Exactly a month after setting off, we ‘turn left’ around the southern edge of Peninsula Malaysia to catch sight of a Singapore skyline silhouetted against a rising red sun. Clean and green, with its forests of shiny tower blocks housing the multi-cultural millions who keep cash registers ringing at more than 100 giant shopping malls, Singapore has to be marvelled at. But a week there proves enough and we are happy to set sail through the Singapore Strait, racing at over seven knots before 10-to 15-foot waves that roll towards our stern, raising Babadudu high before releasing her squarely into the troughs.

Our first island stop on Peninsula Malaysia’s eastern coast is Pulau Sibu, apparently known as ‘the island of perilous passage’ on account of the pirates who once based themselves here.

We continue to move north through a pattern of pristine islands, the most notable being Pulau Babi Besar, its mile-long stretch of silver sands free of human debris but ‘littered’ with rocks and boulders swept by crystalline surf.

Several more islands later and we reach a milestone of our voyage - Tioman Island, a sparkling jewel in the South China Sea, its beaches, steep mountain slopes and teeming reefs largely unspoiled by reckless development. We spend almost two weeks on the island, snorkelling, catching fish and barbecuing on isolated beaches.

After continuing to the Malaysian mainland port of Terengganu for immigration and customs clearance, we continue our push north. Several days are spent at the delightful island of Redang - with its palm-fringed beaches and frequent turtle sightings - and Perhentian, another snorkeler’s paradise.

On a mid-August dawn, we set a north west course for Koh Samui, 270 miles away. But, for us, this island is a disappointment, the victim of architectural vandalism in evidence along its shores and creeping up the hillsides like sores.

We move north to the more attractive (at present) island of Koh Phangan and it is from here that we point Babadudu northeast for the more than 200-mile trip across the Gulf of Thailand to Koh Chang on the Thai-Cambodian border. The wisdom of this is questionable since the eastern gulf, like Phuket, is exposed at this time of the year to the southwest monsoon.

However, after enduring several heavy squalls, we reach Koh Chang after an exhilarating sail and enjoy a few days of good weather on the neighbouring islands of Koh Ngam (with its Phi Phi-like isthmus) and Koh Wai.

For the next week, as we wind our way through the Koh Chang archipelago south to Koh Kut, we are buffeted by strong winds, angry seas and thunderous downpours (which at least keep the water tanks full).

Peering through the gloom, one can recognise that Koh Chang, Koh Kut and their satellites add to Thailand’s heritage of beautiful islands, possibly rivalling Phang Nga Bay, and without Phuket’s heavy development (but also without its amenities).

Babadudu now faces a 400-mile trip south to Malaysia across a Gulf of Thailand which forecasts three days and nights of discomfort. But we are prepared, and here I must pay tribute to Kulot, my partner on this voyage. Her efficiency, endurance, courage and patience have been tested thoroughly and have not once been found wanting.

As I contemplate the miles of ocean which separate us from Borneo (Sarawak) the new goal we have set ourselves.I am aware that no skipper could wish for greater reassurance.