Wildlife

South Africa, 7/12/2017

The combined wild life reserves of Hluhluwe (pronounced Shishluwee) and Imfolozi, are about the size of a small country, covering 96,000 hectares of bushland.  Being only 80 miles north of the marina at Richards Bay,  they are the closest parks and easiest to access in a self drive hire car.

I didn't want to go on my own, so asked the American father and son off the 27' yacht "Beguine" (who had helped with my damaged rigging back in Rodrigues) to join me, sharing costs of hire car etc.

I was the designated left hand driver, and they were my eyes as we crawled slowly along hundreds of miles of dirt tracks, looking this way and that, one of them occasionally calling "Stop!, back up, there! See it? A white rhino".

  

 

The white Rhino isn't actually white, but has some distinguishing features as well as a dusting of icing on its back.

Unbelievably, these huge creatures, bigger than a truck, can move a few feet, stand stock still behind a spindly patch of twigs and simply disappear from sight.  So you have to move slowly, stop often and be patient.

Then suddenly a 20' tall giraffe is standing in the middle of the road - 

 

 

then a mountain-sized elephant.

Totally surreal, almost as if sculptures in a Disneyland theme park, until they move.

I was blown  away by just how ginormous these animals are up close, out in the open.  At times I felt a little nervous, especially when they started walking our way.

We saw nearly all the Big 5 - the elephant, the rhino, (both, white and black), the water buffalo, the lion.  Only missed out on the leopard, but we did see a leopard tortoise.

 

A pride of lions, mother, father and cubs lazing about in the clearing. Binocs necessary to get a close up view.  About as close as I would want to be.

 

There were heaps of other impressive animals - 

 

This zebra stood in the middle of the road, stamping his hind leg.  Only after we passed did we notice he had no tail (most probably a snack for a lion), so was just keeping flies (not us) away.

 

 - wart hogs, impalas, wildebeests, baboons, hippos and Nile River crocs -

 

 

 

The two hippos on the left were about to fight (apparently to the death) over a female.

 

 

 

These delicate, frisky little Impalas were everywhere. I love the way they kick up their hind legs when bounding away.

 

The Beguine guys were seasoned bird watchers and spotted many vultures, eagles, buzzards, kingfishers and others. Again, binocular viewing only for the really big birds in the treetops.

The cost of the three day excursion was very inexpensive, with the hire car being only $AU20 a day. Accommodation in the nearby town of St Lucia (where we took the hippo and croc boat) was about $AU20 each for a two bedroomed self catered apartment.  

 

On the second night, we rented two twin bed chalets at $100 each inside the reserve, a bit more costly but well worth it. 

 

The Mpila camp in the  southern Imfolozi reserve is unfenced, so animals can wander freely through at night. Whoa. Didn't see any but heard plenty of velvet monkeys, baboons, and bigger? 

 

Of course I was nervous of there being boa constrictors or the like in the thatched roof, but luckily didn't see anything of that particular species.

 

We could have booked a tour jeep for minimal extra expense, but I think doing our own "hunting" was better.  I can just imagine bumping along on the bench seats in the back of one of these vehicles, amongst several other tourists. The tour guides use drones to find the animals, would drive you straight to them, stop a minute, saying, "there's a rhino"; "there's an elephant" etc. before moving on to the next.  Where's the challenge in that? 

 

 

 

 

Giraffe equivalent of a lolly-pop man at a school crossing; standing in the middle of the road while several smaller ones ambled slowly across.

 

 

 

The "boring" passage to Sth Africa

Richards Bay, South Africa. 30/11/17

 

A good day on the Indian Ocean.

Departed Mauritius on the 11^th Nov, anticipating two weeks of uneventful (even boring) sailing to South Africa - just for you, Alexa Bell.  Alas, it was not to be.

There were half a dozen other yachts on the same passage and I joined them on the SSB radio “Indian Ocean Crossing Mag Net”.  (You ham radio gents will be happy to know my signal was said to “boom out” loudest of all, and I was often called upon to relay for other boats.)

If nothing else, it let me know that I am not an orphan when it comes to boat problems.  Various common breakdowns assailed them, from autopilot to rig failure, to complete engine seizure. Eve, on “Auntie” had to turn back from almost halfway and bash against the wind back to Reunion with steering problems. Ouch.

The Indian Ocean is crowded with commercial shipping – Japanese, Maltese, Greek, Italian, Liberian,  – trading whatever from here to there and back again, because obviously whatever another country has must be better than what we have, but luckily they want that, so send their ships to get it.  It’s a curious and growing phenomenon.  What it means for small yachts is there’s more likely to be a watch  on the bridge whose awake and watching out.  A great many left a track detouring around Shanti.

 

The AIS has done for radar what the GPS did for the sextant – practically rendered it obsolete.  If not for me having a two-way AIS transceiver on board Shanti, which lets ships see me, I would have been squished like a bug on a windscreen so many times – well, I guess really only once.

The seabirds are so tame they will sit on my finger and land on my head. They come and go. How does a pea-brained bird know how to find Shanti again in a vast open ocean, to recognize her and return to their bidden nestling spot? One tried to commandeer the cockpit and pecked at my legs if I approached but I quickly put paid to that cheekiness and it settled in the crook of the dinghy tube.

 

There is a well-respected Sth African weather adviser, Des Casons, who guides his “chicks” safely in, or at least warns them of nastiness ahead. He tried his best to help me skirt an unexpected coastal low due to hit late Friday night, but in the end I just had to wear it.  He was spot on in regards to timing and position, but not quite in ferocity.

I have never seen anything quite like it before.  Probably the scariest part at first was the sheet lightning, which lit the entire seascape for miles every second and made me worry about my mast  being the tallest thing around.  Next came torrential rain, hammering like a billion stones on the cabin top.

Then the wind.  Within minutes it went from zero to over 40 knots. All hell broke loose.  I had to go out into the cockpit to deal with it, getting drenched to the skin and soon shivering with cold. Tilly, the autopilot squawked her refusal to deal with such demands, so I lashed the tiller and used the engine to hove to. 

The headsail sheets came loose and were flailing wildly about like demented snakes.  The sail unfurled a few feet, adding to the whip-cracking mayhem.  The whole boat was shaking violently. It was real seat of the pants flying, trying to comprehend the more urgent need and deal with it.

The starboard sheet was tightly tangled up with the flag halyard and other ropes, as well as having  knotted  itself into a rock hard monkey fist. Its outer casing was shredded and the sheet simply couldn’t be retrieved.

I managed to get the headsail winched back in and secured things as best I could.  In the midst of all of this the AIS alarm was going off, warning of at least half a dozen ships nearby.

Fortunately it didn’t last long and the wind abated to something sailable. In the pitch black night I had to go forward and run the port sheet over to the starboard side so I could use the headsail. 

By the time I hit the dreaded Agulhas current, the waves were high, with the southerly wind fighting against it.  It was a long slow bash to windward for the last 50 miles with the wind around 27-30 knots.

Never was I more relieved than to thread myself through all the ships and enter the channel into Richards Bay.

Never realized what a busy port Richards Bay is. One yacht had to stand off for 2 hours before being allowed in. The port is closed if wind gets over 40 knots so I was fortunate in making it.

 

 

I am now rafted up alongside a 52' UK yacht on the Q dock, with restaurants and suchlike a hop step away.  It is a well protected harbour within a harbour. Stillness!  What bliss.  

 

Apologies to those of you who were worried by my tardiness in posting a safe arrival blog but I have been in recovery mode, as well as busy booking flights out of here. Shanti will rest in the Tuzi Gazi marina for the next two months while I fly back to Oz and NZ to visit friends and family.

My reward for having successfully crossed the Indian Ocean is to go and see some big cats.

 

Dig deeper

Mauritius, 8/11/17

Yay!!  I made it to Mauritius!  A short hop of only 350 nautical miles, 3 days; nothing really.

But ...

That was definitely the most harrowing passage so far, with me so much on edge as to almost fall over the unseen precipice into the realm of chaotic confusion.

Waiting for something unknowably imminent to happen is perhaps one of life’s greatest stressors. All you know is it’s as inexorable as the next sunset, but you don’t know when or how or to what extent its impact will be.

After leaving the calm anchorage at Rodrigues with my patched up rig, the seas were short and steep and tumbling every which way, leading to a return of the good old “mal de mer” with me feeding the fishes for hours and feeling quite incapacitated.  I could hear the turnbuckles clanking against the chain plates and knew the rig was too loose but there was nothing I could do about it in my “just let me die now” state. At dawn the next morning I forced myself to go up on deck with screwdriver and shifter in hand.

A lot of this journey is to do with overcoming inner resistance, digging deeper than ever asked to before, seeking that extra ounce of fortitude that might still be in reserve.  There didn't feel like much left to prop me up, that's for sure. But that mast needed propping up.

In the milky morning light I could see the stays and mast swaying like strands of limp spaghetti. I tightened the stays up just enough to take out the slack.

Two days later, with a sharp gunshot crack, the windward lower shroud let go. It was a sound I had been dreading to hear.  I hadn't really expected it, believing those US engineers to have nailed it.  With 20:20 hindsight, some of what they did was questionable. 

But then I often trust others' opinions more than my own, especially the so-called experts of the world. Experts, someone since told me, are the very ones to be wary of, since they are expert in doing things in a certain way that they know, and may not be able to see beyond that.

But in that moment, I wasn't luxuriating in such ruminations.  Fear of the mast falling at any second overwhelmed me.  Would it hole the boat and she quickly sink? Would I be able to cut it away in time to prevent that?  I had heard of muscle-bound crew struggling with bolt cutters, hacksaws or grinders. All these thoughts flashed through my mind.  What to do, what to do?

Firstly stop panicking and mop up your tears. Take the one remaining halyard from the main and attach it to the port toe-rail. The mast was creaking and groaning like a haunted house.  I felt sure it would fall at any second.

I furled in most of the headsail and started the engine to motor the remaining 100 nautical miles to Mauritius.  I wasn’t sure if it was ok to do this, imagining the rigging getting tangled in the propeller if it fell.  My silent mantra became, “if it falls, quickly, instantly, immediately, urgently, throttle back to neutral.”

I couldn’t impress upon myself strongly enough the urgency of this; yet still it was amazing how often that thought vanished and needed to be reinstated. Such is the weakness of the mind. Or mine at least, in that time of mixed emotions, with moments of pending disaster interspersed with moments of tranquil acceptance.

It was a seemingly interminable 26 hours of roller coastering along, using every resource I had to visualise a safe arrival. The wind had dropped to around 18 knots and the sea state was the best it had been on this three day passage. Still, each oversized wave caused the mast to sway violently, lifting a good half inch off the deck. Amazingly, it was still standing as I motored into Port Louis in Mauritius. 

Tied up safely at the Customs wharf I surveyed the damage: the base of the mast had several small splits and one larger crack on the left. 

The whole mast had moved about half an inch to the right. Looking up it had a distinct S bend in it. I felt so despondent, as if I had worked so hard to save it but it was wrecked anyway. 

Later on it occurred to me that this was still a preferable outcome, since it could have caused a lot of other damage to the boat or me in falling, and I still had the boom, sails, wiring, lights, etc.

In Rodrigues I had been given the contact of a good rigger, famous Vendee Globe sailor, Herve Laurent, and this recommendation was confirmed by other cruisers in the usual marine equivalent of the good old Aussie bush telegraph.

They were not wrong.  Herve and his English speaking wife, Sophie, were standing dockside at the Caudan Marina on Sunday afternoon. They asked me my time frame and I half jokingly said two days.  It seems he took me literally, arriving early Monday morning, cannibalising old bits to make new. At the point where he loosened off all rigging to move the mast back into position, I couldn’t bring myself to watch so went shopping. Such a girl! 

Incredibly, two days later, I am patched up yet again and ready to continue.

A splint riveted across the crack and two bolts to help stop the mast from twisting.

They say that cruising is mainly about doing boat jobs in exotic locations – which sadly we often don’t get to see much of. This is true, not just of smaller, older boats but also the magnificent floating apartments, such as the 43’ Island Packet “Infanta” berthed behind me.

The owner is clearly no gentleman, sailing the wrong way round back home to Perth. He’s had engine overheating problems, water-maker failure, etc etc. Same same – only I don’t have most of his extras. But we’re all out here, facing similar challenges.

The sail training schooner, "Argo", circumnavigating with 32 young trainees, taking on 5,000 litres diesel this morning before heading to Sth Africa.

Next stop for me is also South Africa, either Richards Bay or Durban, depending on the wind.  Either way, it will be a grand moment to get there and be done with this wild Indian ocean, which incidentally, I have observed is the same colour as Indian ink, which perhaps was named after it?

 

USA engineers on the job.

1/11/2017, Rodrigues

There was only one other yacht in the "turning basin" anchorage when I arrived, a yacht even smaller than Shanti, which always makes me feel better about my diminutive size. "Beguine" is only 27' and is circumnavigating with father and son, Ron and Mark, from Florida. 

Fortunately for me, both are engineers with decades of experience of dealing with every conceivable problem that might beset anything. They are the kind of guys who once faced with a problem gnaw away at it until the best solution is found. And so they did for three days after looking up at the rat's nest of my unravelling rigging, each morning presenting me with different options to consider.  They were totally respectful and left it to me to accept or reject their ideas.

They came prepared with miles of rope, block and tackle for independent mast climbing.

We decided to hacksaw the T toggles off the upper ends of the stays, re-lay the unravelled wires, wrap something strong around the mast above the spreaders and join them together with D-clamps, or "bulldog" clamps.



The unravelling wires on the lower stays.

A lot of this kind of temporary fix depends on what's available.  Luckily there's a Chinese "hole in the wall" store in town, well hidden behind a steel red door, that seems to sell a mixed bag of everything, from eggs to hardware.

A couple of years ago, back in Melbourne, good friend Peter Dransfield was clearing out his garage and gave me some cables suitable for locking up a dinghy.  One of these was quite heavy duty, about two metres long with a swaged eye at each end.  

We stripped the PVC coasting off the end of the cable to attach the stays to.

Hacksawed in half and threaded through the eye it made a perfect sling for going diagonally above the spreaders. The cut off end of the stays could then be joined to this using the D-clamps.

It looks a bit like part of a shell necklace.

About an hour after finishing the job, the huge Canadian yacht "Dream Catcher" arrived.  Norm was glad to find nothing remaining to be done apart from giving it the thumbs up.  I was still very appreciative of their support all the way here, knowing they were only a few days behind me and ready to rescue me if needed.

Next morning, the other single handed female sailor, Eve, arrived on her beautiful US ketch "Auntie".

We leave today, me at 0900 for Mauritius, they at midday for La Reunion.  Ron and Mark, who have already been here 7 weeks, leave Friday for Durban.

With continuing good luck, I should find a competent rigger in Mauritius with all the necessary parts to replace our jury rig for something more permanent. Should be there by Saturday morning.....

Strong angels wanted.

Rodrigues,  27/10/2017

Someone recently said I have had more than my fair share of bad luck and the rest of this trip should be plain sailing.  What's that about tempting fate? 

Another unplanned detour, though not so far out of the way this time, was again thrust upon me by circumstances beyond my control - aren't they all?.  Here, in an unscheduled stop at Port Mathurin, Rodrigues, I'm only about 3 days short of my intended next port of Mauritius, but didn't want to push my luck with faulty rigging and potential dismasting.

What happened?  

Here's a suggestion from a friend of daughter, Pandora's, as to the potential inherent weakness in swaged wire terminals:

"The fraying stays are a worry, would be interested to know  what type of terminal fittings are on the boat and whether the standing rigging was recently done.  Generally it's not the wire rope that's the issue but the swaged terminals. I used to repair a lot of these in the shop and the swaging pressure used is critical to ensuring wire fibres are not crushed in the process."

The rigging was all replaced before leaving Melbourne, so only a couple of years old.

We did suffer a couple of knock downs and a great many hard hits that could have contributed, but it sounds more like this type of swaging is the problem, given that all three lowers failed.

I couldn't believe my eyes, when only a few days out of Cocos Keeling I looked up and saw a couple of shiny little curly "pig's tails" just below the spreaders.

At that stage I had joined a convoy of two German boats, who have been buddy boating for the past 10 years, standing 4 hour watches for each other, so one can sleep. Seemed like a great idea!  With me along, there was a potential 8 hours off.  

 

Klaus is an inspiration, at 80 years old.  He built this sturdy little craft that we have jokingly referred to as the lifeboat from the Titanic.  I say "little boat", but he is in fact one meter longer than Shanti and certainly did better in heavier weather, carrying much more sail than I can.

Once I discovered the rigging problem, I suggested they go on without me, as I would need to slow down and didn't want to hold them up.  They weren't quite as churlish as it seems in leaving me (had friends to meet in Reunion), but it was a wistful gaze at the diminishing white dots on the horizon that left me feeling very alone in this great big ocean with a mast that may soon be coming down round my ears.

Then it was back to setting my own watch keeping timer, either for 30 or 60 minute intervals, and at times I had to really force myself to get up.  Some self talk/pep talk in the wee hours:  "this is your job, it's only for a few days, make the most of the off times and go quickly back to sleep please".  Mostly I obeyed.

There were at least two ships I saw each night.  I wondered how many more I didn't see.

My attempts at supporting the mast involved using every halyard, wire, rope, dyneema, winch, jammer and cleat available.  At moments, I could even forget the imminent threat, relax and enjoy the sailing.  

 

At other moments, it was not so easy.

 

Just when I thought I was getting used to the constant motion and not knocking myself about as much, I took an unexpected tumble backwards against the stove and the little bolt thingies on the rails stabbed me hard on the spine.

Saturday 14/10,  I started packing an abandon ship bag.  With 1600 miles still to go there isn't a lot of choice other than to scuttle the boat, though I hate the thought of losing her for the sake of a few strands of wire.  I also hate the thought of having to climb a multi storied rope ladder up the sheer face of a passing tanker.

Each time I lay down to rest, another idea would spring to mind as to how to further reduce the risks, even if only to stop one of those needle sharp curly tails puncturing the dinghy.  So hop up again, and do more... this time, wrapped Velcro round the stay and used a "mouse" for a spare spinnaker halyard to pull it up and jam it tight.  That should help stop further unravelling, though I knew the weakness was at the swage.

After I had taken the baby stay to the windward side, and tightened up its turnbuckle as hard as I should, I was starting to feel a little more secure.  This light hearted moment passed a couple of days later when I noticed the leeward shroud starting the same tricks.  Switched the halyards to share the load.

With each passing day I grew more confident of making it to Mauritius.  Friends on a Canadian boat, Dream Catcher, were a few days behind me, so could pick me up if worst came to worst.  That was comforting to know.

When I gave my intentions of pushing through to Mauritius, Norm queried the sanity of this and encouraged me to stop at Rodrigues.  They are only about another 3-4 days behind me, so may be able to help with some further jury rig.  When my "main-stay", the windward baby stay snapped, it was decided!

As I write this, I am tied up alongside the main commercial wharf.  What a great relief!!  Have almost finished the clearing in process, have got internet, have made enquiries as to rigger, though, as suspected, drawn a blank there.

Luckily they didn't make me move for the departure of the Coast Guard ship.

 

Whenever a ship comes in, it's necessary to move from here, leave the port and turning basin, so it will be back out to sea for a bit this coming Sunday, the day Dream Catcher is due.  I sure hope Norm has something clever up his sleeve, or at least a mast rat capable of going up and reinforcing things aloft.  Then I suspect it will be a further limp to Mauritius. Time is against me, because of cyclone season starting mid November, so I mustn't dilly dally.

On a positive note, my power situation seems sorted.  With the solar panels charging the new batteries each day, I haven't had to run the engine at all.  And when I had to up anchor and come alongside the dock yesterday, the windlass worked like fury, with no tripping out, even against a 22 knot breeze.  Big thanks! 😊

And big thanks to all family and friends who offered concern, loving support, strong vibes and stronger mast supporting angels to help me through.

 

Sent from my iPad

Classroom of the sea

Cocos Keeling, 1/10/2017

The World ARC rally boats have just left, freeing up some of the user-pays WiFi here on Direction Island.  I only found out about this from Customs when they came to clear me in this morning.

So here's a brief update on the good ship Shanti.

After leaving Kupang, on 17th of September, I was expecting the leg to Cocos Keeling to be uneventful, with light winds, at times not enough to sail. But that's far from what I got.

The batteries were still giving grief; connecting the old and new banks together was definitely not the way to go, exciting as it was to think I had 420 Ah for the first time. So in the middle of the night, I changed over old banks for new, and if you think that was easy, well, perhaps for Superman, or any larger bicep than I. 

The next exciting trick was a lock-tight, immovable overwrap on the main halyard. Nothing would budge it. My only thought was to cut it to get the sail down, as would one day be necessary.  But I'm learning stuff in this classroom of the sea.  (Some would say I should know it all before setting out, but most of it can only be learnt on the job). So I removed the winch.  And if you think that was easy ......

I've been experimenting a lot with sheet to tiller steering, which I first read of in Webb Chiles' blog, and have been fascinated by the concept.

I shot a short video of it, which will be uploaded when internet connection is adequate.  At the end of the video, I  said to "Min", the Fleming windvane, "you may just have been made redundant."  Now was that tempting fate or what?

A couple of days later, an Indonesian fishing boat smashed into the back of me.  Fortunately Min acted heroically, like something of a roll bar, saving the stern from being holed for sure. Unfortunately she died in the process.  As did the outboard motor, its bracket and the pushpit. Only later I noticed the danbuoy, light and life ring were gone.

So it's back to increasing efforts in perfecting sheet to tiller steering.  I want to say a big thanks to Chrissie, from Darwin, who sold me some heavy duty snap blocks, which are perfect for the job.

Also big thanks to Mike, off "Wateva", for the parting gift of the sharp cockpit knife, which literally became that, in cutting me free from the fishing boat.

There was a good possibility that rope was caught round my prop and the only way to find out was to hove to and go over the side for a look.  Not at all safe practice, but necessary.  And if you  think that was easy ....

Speaking of not easy, the wind was up around 32 knots for the next week, and the seas were massive, knocking poor little Shanti off her perch, dousing her in cascades of water and covering me in bruises.

But, words of wisdom from Keith, in Darwin, who has sailed hundreds of thousands of miles with his beautiful wife, Marion, "You get used to it."

Early yesterday morning, as the sun rose, I beheld before me, Green!

And I dropped anchor in the turquoise protected waters of the magical Cocos Keeling islands.

Sent from my iPad

Slight detour

Kupang. 17/9/2017

Leaving the lock at Bayview Marina. Photo courtesy of Monique off "Dream Catcher"

It felt great to be heading to sea, leaving the land behind, with no pressure to get anywhere before dark.  I wasn’t sure how I’d go with sleep management, but soon found a comfortable rhythm, waking every 30 minutes, then back down.

I knew from the Gribs to expect light winds until well away from Australia.  The first day out was glorious sailing, doing an easy 6 knots across smooth seas.  By 1800, that had dropped to only 1.5 knots; time to turn the key, being very conscious of my scarce fuel supplies and the many miles ahead.  Still, I was prepared to sacrifice half a tank if necessary to get clear of the calms. 

I took advantage of the lull to change the dynema lines and pulley arrangement on “Min”, the Fleming self steering; because I had noticed the rear lines were over-riding the front ones and getting jammed.

On day 3, the wind was up to 25 knots and we were flying along. Halelujah, we must have reached the trades, I thought.  Wrong!  By midnight there was nothing, not a breath of wind to shake the velvety carpet of sea to even a ripple.

The next day was more of the same, though with a large ocean swell rolling Shanti from ear to ear.  And it was so hot!  Around 45 degrees in the cabin.  Even harder to handle than in Darwin because there, at least I could run a fan.  Here, it couldn’t stay on its feet with the rocking and rolling. I decided to stabilize the base by screwing it to the breadboard.

How long was this going to last?  A sat phone text to the outside world confirmed my fears – no wind below 11 deg S, 123 E.  Almost as far north as Indonesia, which was 200 miles away.  After much deliberation and calculation, I decided that the best option was to burn off the rest of my diesel and head for somewhere it could be replenished. 

Also I was having issues with power.  It seemed as if my batteries weren’t charging or holding a charge.  This was confirmed when after 16 hours of motoring, within a short time, "Tilly" the autopilot was squawking, the voltage down to 10.7V.

So fuel and new batteries were top priority.

 

Motoring over a glassy sea to Kupang. 

Indonesia was not a planned stop, so Australian Border Force had to be advised of change of destination. Thank goodness for satphone!  They were great about it.

Entering a foreign country with no idea how was interesting.  I found an old cruising guide that said to report to the Harbourmaster at the port, so I motored up and down in strong head winds, calling constantly on VHF Ch 16, but got no reply.

I gave up and returned to an anchorage, where luckily a couple of Australian cruisers were able to direct me to an honest and reliable yacht agent here, Michael, ($US250), who became dedicated to the cause.

After several trees worth of paperwork and many hours of practising patience in some interesting government offices where no one seemed to be working, I was finally checked in and out. At least the taxi and offices were air conditioned and the locals friendly.  I got some kudos as a solo female sailor and many wanted their photo taken with me.

Getting the diesel was easy – a longboat and Michael's boys to deliver it to Shanti.

The batteries were a bit harder – no deep cycle batteries are to be had here, so I have had to make do with wet cell car batteries. Not ideal, but a temporary measure which hopefully will get me to S Africa.  I spent the last two nights after the wind died off and the boat stopped pitching, fitting them in.

It was great to have Michael to run me around to get battery cables and a suitable length of wood for the job. Carrying all this on the back of a moped amongst hundreds of others in heavy traffic was an exhilarating experience.  You see many a family zooming about on these motorcycles, always with youngest perched up front as the sacrificial lamb. The women pillion riders often sit side saddle, and never a helmet to be seen.

Kupang is a fascinating blend of old and new world. Going from the grubby outdoor market to the huge shopping mall, all shiny and immaculate with military precision in the rows of stock on shelves and checkout chicks in smart uniforms like airline hostesses, was something of a culture shock.

Friends off  “Dream catcher” arrived a couple of days after me and we enjoyed eating out at the traditional night market. So I did get to see a few sights in my short stay here.
Also divested of almost my entire stash of US$.
 

My intentions are to continue on as per plan, just as soon as possible, heading to Cocos Keeling, Mauritius then South Africa, hopefully before Christmas - this year.

Sunday, September 17, exactly 10 days after leaving Darwin, I’m ready to go again.  Unfortunately, after it blowing the crabs off the rocks for the past few days, we are lolling listlessly in a breathless, mist-enshrouded morning.

I shall row ashore with my rubbish and see what develops ......



 

 

Shanti resuming transmission.

5/9/2017, Darwin

Well I made the leap, out of the frying pan and into the fire! 

Leaving Shanti safely locked up in Bayview marina in Darwin, I flew to the Seychelles.  As the last crewmember to arrive,  it was expected that we would depart within a day or two, for the long beat to windward home.  Everyone who knows anything of the proposed route back to Brisbane, against the prevailing SE trade winds and counter currents, said it was not a sensible idea.  Well they were right.

Ex charter Cats everywhere.

The Seychelles are quite beautiful, but after interminable waiting on bureaucracy's buckled wheels to grind, we were all keen to get going.  Finally, on Monday 21st August, two weeks after my arrival, we were let loose.

The following Monday, we were back where we started.

Things didn't go at all according to plan.  Here is a report written by the delivery skipper to the owners:

"First and for most: if we didn’t have these safety issues we still would be well on our way to the Maldives or Indonesia!

 

The major reasons for me to return are, firstly that the crew started losing confidence in the boat.

Within the first three days we had 3 major safety issues and 3 impending ones:

It started when the main halyard was in the water and rapped itself around the saildrive. This may have been a human error, but these errors do happen. At night it is impossible to see (without a light) if all lines and halyards are in their proper place secured on the mast. So, after a rough night, at daylight I discovered the main halyard to be in the water. We managed to get it out by heaving to, which was not easy because we could neither hoist or lower the mainsail. Getting in the water when the ship is still moving slowly in a rough sea is highly dangerous. I wouldn’t recommend it. However, it had to be done or we could lose or damage our port saildrive and/or rudder!

Then the port line of the lazy bag broke. This implicated that the foot of the mainsail is hanging loose over the port side of the boom when one or two reefs are in, thus obstructing your view, blocking the solar panels, and a potential danger when in rough weather. Besides it is chafing slightly. Setting a reef or shaking one was getting also very challenging with a large part of the very heavy main sail not properly secured.

To our disbelief we discovered that the second reefing line was almost broken. Totally chafed down to the core of this 12 mm double braided line. I managed to replace it with the spare line I bought.

The next things we observed were that the first reefing line was also about to get bad. You could move the outer braided sleeve loosely over the inner core over a large section. Further inspection of the other lines revealed that the main sheet also had some chafing damage. These two items were not imminently dangerous, but because we don’t have any more spare lines it is getting to be a serious challenge for a long passage as this. Lastly in this section, we discovered the topping lift to be in a similar shape as the second reefing line.

 

Given all above our main impression was: if this is already broken during the first three days, what will happen next? Bear in mind that on our first sea trial, a few days ago, the genoa sheet also chafed badly, almost broke and had to be replaced. And a mindset like that is not building confidence.

 

The second main reason to turn around is the way the boat behaves in an upwind course.

At first, we set on an easterly course with southeasterly to east-southeasterly winds, which was very uncomfortable due to the fact we also had a strong current against us. The sea state was moderate and the swell was between 3-5 meters with an interval of 6-8 seconds. (The three weeks delay we had in the Seychelles certainly lost us a better weather window and was one of the reasons why I was unhappy then with the situation.)

We were really banging into the waves at a speed of 3-5 knots and the current was setting us more to a northerly drift. This wasn’t expected and anticipated. All of this didn’t feel good at all for the boat. We were not making any real good progress until we decided to go on a more northerly heading and possibly enter one of the Maldives. To set a course for Cocos (Keeling) was out of the question already. Indonesia looked like a good alternative option. The distance from the Seychelles was almost similar to Cocos and we would have had a more comfortable and safe sailing, more closely to the equator. However, the winds in this part of the Indian Ocean around the ICTZ would have been variable and light thus making us to maneuver more and perhaps motor (sail) more. All of which was and is no problem (or challenge). But beating against the sea is not good for this boat, certainly not if you have to do it for more than 3 weeks continuously!

 

Conclusions and recommendations:

You could say this was an extended sea trial of about 600 nautical miles.

It certainly shows the boat has been used for the charter business. Generally, the ‘guests’ who hire these boats have little or none sailing experience and don’t know how to handle the boat properly. The general maintenance was done by the Moorings. I have to examine the maintenance log to see if any of the lines have been replaced earlier, however I expect that they didn’t do that, given the obvious state of these lines. The chafing should have been noticed during the survey of the boat and subsequently the rigging check specifically.

 

As almost any catamaran, the boat handles very well in winds from a reach to a more broad reach. Upwind is another story. I found that the limit is 30 degrees. 35 degrees is just at the edge and at 40 degrees she starts to handle better. At 50 degrees or more, she really starts to act like a catamaran.

A Leopard 39 is not a heavy weight sailing cat, but build for lighter conditions. I would certainly not sail her in the ‘roaring forties’ or similar circumstances! If the sea state is getting rough, she doesn’t handle the waves very well. Banging into them, you can see the shrouds trembling, the mast shaking and you can hear he forestay taking a beating on the big aluminium bar which is between both hull’s.

Another item which is not implemented on this boat is a preventer. The boom moves sideways a lot in any wind and cannot be fixated by mere use of the mainsheet. Again, in heavy weather this is cause of concern, because there is too much stress on the rigging.

The big plus of this Leopard 39 is he downwind sailing, the comfort and space on board and complete layout. I would take the boat on a world circum navigation any time! But sailing ‘the right way’ of course.

 

So, my intention of sailing to Australia more or less directly via Cocos (Keeling) Islands may have been a bit too opportunistic. The alternative route, more north via the Maldives and then to Indonesia is a better option. In my opinion, the best sailing option would be to go ‘the long way around’".

They really cram these big cats in tight.

So, back in port again, awaiting spares and repairs, not sure which way to go ........


The potential for further delays seemed highly likely and I was reluctant to go the long way round on someone else's boat when that had been my own original plan.  I had seen a few of the big Indian Ocean rollers and they didn't look that scary.


A few of those motivational mantras were playing in  my head, rekindling my doused dreams, making me question my decision to give up on my quest, right at the start line, as it were.


This little video clip summed it up nicely.

The idea that dreams choose us, rather than we choose our dreams, especially resonated with me.


And the aphorism, "it is one thing to try and fail, but to fail to try is true failure."


I feel that I failed to try.  Got to the start line in Darwin, was assailed by doubt and fear, and was too afraid to step off into the great unknown.


So on Thursday 31st August, I flew back from the Seychelles to Darwin, ready to give it a go.
Today, Sept 5th is my birthday.  I don't want to leave it another year.

This is how much weed was on the paddle of my Fleming self steering when I arrived in Darwin.

Everyone here in Bayview marina has been incredibly friendly and supportive.  Many of them have done this route before.


Yesterday, the couple on the boat next door helped me clean and apply fresh antifoul paint to the Fleming.

One woman, Chrissie, even lent me her ute to go out for diesel and provisions.

Food for Africa

Today seemed an auspicious date to call Customs and arrange clearance.  Tomorrow, I will go and clear out, buy a courtesy flag of Mauritius, and stock up on fresh fruit and veg. Then at first opening of the lock gates on Thursday morning, Shanti will resume her voyage.


The route will take me across the Indian ocean (the right way), to Cocos Keeling, then Mauritius, then South Africa.  All going well I should be there by mid December, ready to fly back to Melbourne for Christmas.


The next report will be from Cocos Keeling, in about a month from now.