There's been another crash.

We had actually planned to be a little more economical with the adrenaline release in our autonomic nervous system on this route.

Well, dear friends, that was unfortunately an unfulfillable wish.

After our "Battleship" adventure in the Indonesian Anambas archipelago, our journey took us to the Malaysian peninsula. Terengganu. An unappealing industrial town, but with good anchorages behind a breakwater.

Clearing in with the slowest harbor master on the planet, immigration, customs, the whole nine yards. Everyone was friendly and nice.

We stocked up on provisions for the Redang Archipelago to spend a few days there.

Then we continue on a northwesterly course. Along the way, we find another breakwater on our course towards Thailand.

We are anchored near a brightly lit shipyard, all anchor lights and more on Odin are switched on, and we are on our way to our bunks.

Suddenly, a crash! Odin tilts slightly to one side, and we hear far too loud and, above all, far too close engine noises and screams. We rush on deck and witness a fishing cutter, about 20 meters long, scraping along Odin's starboard side.

At first, all we see are shredded boat parts flying onto our deck. Shit!

This can't be happening! The shipyard and the floodlights make it daylight, all the deck lights on Odin are on, how could that complete idiot have missed us?

Five years ago, a Malaysian fishing boat rammed us on Langkawi and simply disappeared into the night, saying "Sorry Sir".

Well, we have to cover the the damages out of our own pocket.

This time it was the same story, the complete idiot just drove on, even without saying "sorry sir".

How could he not see Odin? He must have been watching porn on his phone.

We curse, we scream after him, but he keeps retreating further into the darkness.

We assess the damage, see fiberglass fragments and wood shavings lying on deck, and fear the worst.

But once again, a stroke of luck amidst the misfortune.

He caught the Odin's chainplate, the metal part on which the shrouds holding the mast are mounted on the side of a sailing yacht.

In doing so, he has partially dismantled his own rotten ship, and Odin only needs a bit of paint on the rubbing strake. No big deal.

Clean the deck of collision debris, marvel at how lucky one can be, and then head to bed to wonder if Southeast Asian fishermen are missing a few brain cells.

We then sail north for a few days, avoiding ports and preferring to anchor off the open coast.

Finally Thailand. Songkhla.

Back to the industrial port. We're clearing in.

It's an odyssey, because hardly anyone knows where any of the authorities are. We drive around on a borrowed scooter, getting sent from one office to another; nobody knows anything for sure.

Eventually we manage to find the right offices and can begin the battle with the numerous nonsensical forms that we barely understand because they are written in Thai characters.

Hardly any of the officials shine with expertise, but they do move at a snail's pace, though they are usually friendlier than one would expect as a "farang" (i.e., a foreigner) from the tourist hotspots.

We are now in Thailand and have filled out a lot of pointless paperwork, but to continue our journey to the next Thai province I have to clear out again and clear in again at the new port with the harbormaster, immigration and customs.

Bureaucratic madness in Thailand. One example:

Before entering Thailand, I obtained a visa from the Thai embassy in Kuala Lumpur because, as captain of my yacht, I'm only allowed to stay for one month and would then have to leave with the yacht, as I work on board and therefore need a work visa. The yacht itself, however, is allowed to stay for six months nonstop.

As you can see, a lot of things here make absolutely no sense, and it's no wonder that even the officials themselves don't understand it.

Okay, Songkhla cleared out towards Koh Samui.

Known for its arrogant harbor master, this island has a legendary negative reputation among sailors, and hardly anyone dares to clear in without an agent.

I've never spent money on that.

But the reputation of the harbor master of Koh Samui is justified.

We're missing just one of the numerous forms from the harbor master in Songkhla. Normally not a problem, but not with this shining example of Thai bureaucracy.

We were told to sail back to Songkhla against the wind for three days or pay a €130 fine for the missing, pointless document. (A phone call from him would have been enough to get a copy by email.)

Whatever, we'll pay.

We explore the islands for a few days and then sail on to Koh Phangan to meet my "ex brother-in-law" Axel and my ex-partner Uts, with whom I had many fantastic experiences and unforgettable adventures on our sailing trip from 2009 to 2015 through the Caribbean, South America and the paradisiacal South Pacific.

Love turned into friendship, the "ex brother-in-law" into a friend, and so we enjoy our time together and are excited about what's to come.

Sequel follows.