In 2024, we paid to have our Mantus anchor and anchor chain re-galvanized. It seems to be a rite of passage at Pangkor Marina Malaysia. Well in advance of our arrival, social media groups were atwitter, “I’m planning to get my chain re-galvanized? Does anyone know if it’s hot dip?” The excitement was palpable. It seemed it wasn’t a matter of “if” but “when”.

What is galvanization?

In truth, I don’t know what re-galvanizing means apart from your chain will look new and shiny. Perhaps there’s a belief that you could send your chain to be dipped into a vat of steaming steel and suddenly you have put at least another year of life onto your chain. It’s either that, or reorder new anchor chain.

Anchor chain is a big expense, and no small undertaking. Just paying a man in a van seemed like a great idea. In fact, it was so fantastic we didn’t even get a quote for the work. It was the one time I can say that we were greatly affected by “herd mentality”. This is something we have actively avoided, in our ten years of cruising, staying away from buddy boat arrangements. We prefer to pick our own weather windows.

The way that galvanizing works at Pangkor Marina

The way that galvanizing works at Pangkor Marina is that you indicate your interest in galvanizing, then when they reach a sufficient quorum of other people with a dream and a heavy anchor chain, the chains are loaded into one van for transport.

When the opportunity to re-galvanize our anchor chain arrived we leaped. Within minutes, our anchor chain emerged from its locker like a brown snake. There it was —  350 rusty feet of security and safety. The back of the van bent as we loaded our 105-pound anchor. Other cruisers’ chains and some anchors were also piled into an all-purpose van — all destined for the same place in Penang, Malaysia.

The boatyard worker started the engine. But, we were not ready. Rick thought he should remove the anchor swivel. He felt that this might fill with the hot dip, rendering it useless.

With the exhaust from the van flowing fully into his face, Rick brought out a grinder and sawed off our anchor swivel.

Sparks flew in all directions. “I don’t have the tools with me to properly remove the swivel,” he said.  As the red glow and exhaust smoke engulfed him, he said, “We have another swivel we can use.”

In short order, our anchor arrived back. Our anchor chain was loaded into our bow locker. Job done.

Months later, when we laid the chain out on the dock that we realized we had the wrong chain. “It’s shorter than it was,” said Henry.

“Maybe they cut off the front bit,” I said. “It did look kind of weak.”

Rick brought out his calipers.

Snapping them around a link, he announced, “The links are too thin.”

A silence settled upon us as we consolidated the information.

We had been given the wrong chain.

Boats had been leaving Pangkor Marina for months. Our chain was likely in the hold of someone else’s boat heading to some far-flung place. We had no way of knowing. These photos provide a view of what newly galvanized chain looks like compared to a re-galvanized chain with less than two months of wear.

The marina produced a different chain. We were skeptical. A boatyard worker drove the new-to-us chain from storage onto a patch of grass, and opened the back of the van. A shiny heap of anchor chain lay before us. The worker continued to hold the door with his back to us, gazing off into a field.

“Can you drive the van forwards so that we can lay it out on the pavement?”

The worker sucked his lips.

“How do you know that this is our chain?” I asked.

His eyes never met mine, but no sooner than I spoke, the air leapt to life. I don’t speak Malay, but the tone of disdain and mockery was clear.

After a few phone calls, the workers agreed to move our chain but not to the pavement, to the dock.

The workers picked themselves up from various awkward angles and formed a fluid procession to the dock. Meanwhile, Rick went over to the dock to meet them.

The workers drove our chain to a different dock and suggested that we should pick up the chain with our dinghy.

Rick called the general manager of the Pangkor Marina who wanted Rick to sign off on the chain. Incensed with the misrepresentation of the “dock”, I strode back to our boat, passing Rick who was still on the phone.

Rick was pacing up and down the dock as he continued to talk to the general manager.  Reaching our boat, I realized there was nothing left for me to do but spin back on my heels. I took 5 steps forward and then — I locked eyes with the general manager.

Sitting with a group of men on a fancy charter boat, the general manager gripped his hand of cards, while balancing his cellphone between his shoulder and his ear. The general manager broke our gaze.

Looking ahead down the dock, I could see Rick’s lips moving. When they stopped moving, the general manager moved his lips.

I watched the manager’s eyes dip around the table as though to apologize for taking time away from the game.

Then Rick spoke again, put his phone in his pocket, and the general manager fell silent.

The workers drove the chain to our dock. They unloaded it with the strain of men toiling in a world without end. “It’s very heavy,” one man said. “It’s Ramadan. We are hungry.”

The chain was unloaded onto the dock. It seemed a bit long. As we paced out the anchor chain, it weighed on our minds that this might not be the right chain either.

At this point, our family members from Germany had arrived onto our boat. They had joined us to sail to Thailand. A decision needed to be made. We could stay on the dock, and complain about receiving the wrong chain at Pangkor Marina, or we could just get on and sail.

We set off. As we rounded the corner out of sight, we noticed that the general manager turned off our group access to the Pangkor Marina chat group.

Six months after leaving Pangkor Marina it’s clear that sailing to Thailand was the right choice. Before leaving, we raised our concern about the wrong chain with the general manager, he said that he would check the next day, that his office was closed and his staff was at home.

Decision made: we were going to Thailand. But, it was there that we learned that our adventures with the anchor chain were far from over. You can read more about that on my next blog post: Ground Tackle: A Continuation of our Malaysian Anchor Chain Debacle.

Next Post in the Anchor Chain Series: Part 2: Losing our Ground Tackle: A Continuation of our Malaysian Anchor Chain Debacle