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.