45th Post

We waited patiently in the Azorean town of Angra do Heroismo, for a fair wind for the final leg of our odyssey. A succession of nasty looking fronts were coming through, producing winds that we would rather avoid. However, by the 25^th of June the Grib files were forecasting reasonable winds. We were ready, so set sail immediately.

Our tactics were to sail due north for about 400 miles, to pick up the South Westerlies that blow in those latitudes at this time of year. It adds considerably to the miles sailed, but would put us in a better position should a westerly gale come bowling along.

We had easy sailing conditions for the first couple of days, which is always something to appreciate. It certainly helps one find ones sea legs again after a sojourn in harbour.

On the 28^th the wind steadily increased as the day progressed and as it did so, we shortened sail. With the arrival of dusk we pulled in the 3^rd reef in anticipation of the gale that was surely coming our way. We had calculated that this gale would miss us by a good 100 miles. Hmm, the best laid plans of mice and men.

By the next day we were hove to before the gale, forereaching at six knots, in an easterly direction. Not at all a good course, but in the large seas we were experiencing we had no choice. Then things started to go wrong.

The roller furling control line for the Genoa parted, despite only a pocket handkerchief of sail being set. This allowed the whole sail to open out. It was thrashing and banging and would be torn to shreds, unless something was done quickly. Pippa and I were both in the cockpit wearing our safety harnesses. So I made my way to the forepeak, secured myself there and gathered in the sail. It was quite a job, but no harm was done and before too long I had the sail lashed securely to the guard rail. It was quite exciting observing the bow rise to a wave and then come crashing down into the following trough. It was also a rather a wet experience.

On my way back to the cockpit I noticed that one of the dorade air scoops had come adrift, allowing water to enter the cabin. Fortunately it was not lost and I was able to screw it back on.

The next task was to hoist the storm jib that was clipped to the inner forestay, then make my way back to the cockpit and find out if there was any chance of a cup of tea.  

The gale was not long lived and during the next few days with the barometer raising, we were soon sailing on a good course once more. We were able to jury rig a furling line for the genoa, then hoist and set the sail once again. However the furling genoa was still causing us problems, so it was finally furled away for good, before it could get into any more mischief.

We still needed some canvas forward, so we dug out a dinghy mainsail we had picked up in the Caribbean for just such an occasion. It was set on the inner forestay, and served us well for the remainder of the passage.

The next thing to vex us was nearly losing our beloved Hydrovane in the last few days of the passage. I looked at the vane and something didn’t seem quite right. On closer inspection I found that a pin had worked loose. It was within a few millimetres of escaping completely, which would have been a tragedy. I was able to push it back home, but it would slowly work its way out again. I couldn’t fix the problem but discovered that by setting the vane in an upright position, it took the pin longer to work loose. So for the rest of the passage we had to check it every forty five minutes, day and night.

On the final day of our passage we had a cracking sail. We were sailing beautifully at up to seven and a half knots at times, bang on course. We were made welcome to our home waters by visits from dolphins, Manx Shearwaters, Gannets and Guillemots.

It was starting to get dark as we sailed past Skokholm and through the Western entrance of the River Cleddau. We anchored for the night at Dale, exuberant that Sula was in her home waters after a seven year absence.

We took the flood tide up river the following day. 

Near Milford Haven, a couple of dodgy looking characters in a pretty little boat caught our attention. They were clearly taking an interest in us. Were we to be attacked by pirates so near to home? We might not have worried, they turned out to be Neville and Geoff and they came bearing gifts.

Hazel and Tim escorted us from near Benton Castle to our mooring, then kindly ferried us ashore where we were greeted by many of our good friends in Pembrokeshire. As we stepped ashore a cheer went up, a glass of champagne was pressed into our hands, and we passed under a driftwood arch onto the hallowed turf of Black Tar.

We were happily detained for a while, and plied with yet more champagne, in Ian and Christine Jacob’s beautiful garden overlooking the river. Finally we tore ourselves away and walked the short mile up the lane to our little cottage in Llangwm.

Sula, the final mile.

It’s good to be back.

Pictures: Jason Davies Photography.

44th Post

On the 4^th Feb 2015 we arrived at Simon’s Town’s False Bay Yacht Club, Marina and boat yard. A fine and well sheltered marina in the lee of the Navy dockyard. The facilities were very good and we found everything we might need without too much trouble. We were even able to have our anchor chain re-galvanised.

With the harbour master’s permission, we moved to the slipway wall at high tide. It was necessary to dry out at low tide, so I could overhaul and re-grease the heads sea cocks. It was a bit of a shock to get up at 0430 in the dark, to move Sula to the wall. All went smoothly though, and the work was soon completed.

I remembered the harbour master comment that this manoeuvre would get the locals talking, and indeed it did. Several people stopped and commentated that they hadn’t seen a yacht dried out on the slipway for many years. Still more people asked how it was done. I wonder if I will start a trend.

 Sula drying out

We made friends with local sailors Nadia and Ray Hartman. They entertained us wonderfully. We were treated to lunch at their lovely house overlooking the bay. On another occasion we were taken to the pictures in Cape Town to see the film of Stephen Hawking’s ‘The theory of everything.’

   

The remainder of our time in Simon’s Town was spent relaxing, doing a pleasant walk that Pippa researched on Swartskop Hill and swimming from a beach near the penguin colony.

A pleasant walk on Swartskop Hill.

2^nd March.

The continuous strong winds we had been experiencing at last died down, and we prepared to sail to Cape Town early the following day.

There was hardly a breath of wind, so we motored the whole way, arriving in Cape Town at five o’clock in the evening. The berth we were allotted turned out to be occupied, so we tied up at the fuelling berth for the night.

At this juncture I must apologise to the Royal Cape Yacht club. In the last blog I was rather disparaging about it. So I must correct myself immediately. Our stay at the RCYC was most enjoyable. The facilities were excellent, the pontoons safe and secure, and the staff were without exception courteous and helpful. The centre of Cape Town is easily reached by taxi and on foot if it is not too hot.  

Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens and Nursery Buttress

Friday 6^th March.

Pippa, having done much research on the internet, found us a fine scramble we could do on Table Mountain. A 6am start was required. We took a taxi to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens and sweet talked the security guard to let us in, even though the gardens were not yet open. 

The route was Nursery Buttress. A simple scramble with one short crux section, consisting of a near vertical wall above a horrible landing, a looong way below our feet. Fortunately the wall was blessed with huge jug handle holds, on superb clean, dry granite. Interesting scrambling continued all the way to the top. 

There is a summit on Table Mountain, but it was a long walk from the top of our scramble, so we didn’t bother. The route was satisfaction enough. The decent, by a simple scramble down Cecilia Ridge, was pleasant until we came to the lower section that had many knee jarring steps. But all in all it was a fine day out.

Our next expedition broke new ground for me. For the first time ever I put myself (and Pippa of course) in the hands of a professional guide. Reasons were:  we didn’t know the mountain; route finding was complicated; the maps weren’t that good; we hadn’t got much time before we sailed. 

10^th March

We were up and away by 6am (again) for our guided scramble on Table Mountain. Kloof Corner Pinnacle was its name, and our friendly and very professional guide was Mike. 

It was a thoroughly enjoyable scramble, only marred by having to haul ourselves up on chains in a couple of places. I’m glad we employed a guide. The route was quite tricky in a couple of places. With Mike there providing rope work and route-finding, we could concentrate on enjoying the scrambling and the view.

Table Mountain and Lion’s Head to the right

12th March.

We walked into town today It was hot, noisy, dusty and not at all pleasant. We shopped at Woolworths. (No, not that one) Good quality food, well presented and very fresh. It was great fun finding our way out of the shopping precinct with a trolley full of food. We tried one exit, but were turned back by a security guard. We persevered and eventually found our way to the taxi rank via a convoluted route involving a lift and a completely different store. 

14th March.

We continue to enjoy Cape Town. Our walk to the summit of ‘Lion’s Head’ today corresponded with a fell race following the same route. It was a Saturday too, so there were also hundreds of other visitors to the peak. We shrugged and accepted the bustle of people ascending and descending our route. Surprisingly enough we still enjoyed the experience.

Lion’s Head from the Yacht Club

Our exertions earned us an evening meal at the Yacht Club. Black olives, feta cheese and salad for starters, followed by an excellent Mediterranean pizza and tall glasses of cold beer to help it down.  If that wasn't enough, we shared a table with three German speaking Europeans. “But tonight we speak English.” And so they did. Perfectly. I feel quite humble sometimes.

Monday.16^th  March.

The wind is howling a force 8 gale, exacerbated by the katabatic winds pouring down the slopes of Table Mountain. Despite being perfectly safe in harbour, it still makes us feel edgy. We escaped into town and bought about 30 bottles of emergency water for our next passage and other goodies. Two large trolley loads. We have a watermaker on board, but still like to have just enough water stashed away to survive, should the watermaker break down.This is our second provisioning shop and we will need a third for fresh meat and veg.

Thursday 19^th March

Following our successful scramble on Table Mountain with Mike our friendly guide, we were invited to join him and his girlfriend Eva for a scramble called Outlook Ridge, on Elsie’s Peak near Fishhook. 

This was Mike’s day off work and of course he was doing what all guides should do, i.e. going climbing with friends. He described it as one of the best routes in the area. It was very exposed in places and we were very happy to tie onto the end of his rope. What good memories we will take with us from our stay in Cape Town. 

Outlook Ridge, on Elsie’s peak

Sunday 22^nd March

We tried to clear customs today. They wouldn’t accept that we have been issued with a visa extension. This, despite our showing the customs officer the receipt issued in Durban. This is particularly frustrating because we had been assured that it wouldn’t be a problem because we had a receipt.

In the end, after much arguing with both each other and the customs officer, we were persuaded to be declared undesirable aliens. That done, our paperwork was duly stamped and filed. Now we must go on line and email a written representation, with copies of various documents. We were assured this was only a formality and our undesirable status will be rescinded. But we weren’t hanging around to find out.

     

24^th

It was beautifully calm this morning, so we finally set sail from Cape Town. Within an hour of our departure the wind, as usual, piped up. But by that time we were in clear water and had a fine downwind sail Past Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela spent much of his life in prison. 

By mid-afternoon we arrived at  Dassen Island. We weren’t really allowed to stop, having cleared customs, but were ready with an excuse in the very unlikely chance we were challenged. 

Our anchorage at Dassen Island was lovely. Well sheltered from the wind and swell and with a huge number of all sorts of birds. We instantly decided to stay for two days. One of our outstanding jobs was to check the watermaker. We couldn’t do so in Cape Town because of the poor quality of the sea water. I suppose it served me right, because we really did have a problem with it. It turned (the beautifully clear) sea water into good quality drinking water, but whilst doing so also leaked water all over the cabin sole. I eventually sorted the problem out, so now we really will be able to start our passage tomorrow morning.

We arrived at St Helena on the 10^th April, after 17 days of trouble free downwind sailing, that included a record breaking day’s run of 155 miles.

 Jamestown, Saint Helena

What a lovely island. We tied up to a huge yacht-friendly mooring buoy and for the first time in quite a while we swam from boat. Delightful! 

Once we had rested a little, we took a water taxi ashore for the princely sum of £2 each, return. This was really good value. It would have been a long row in our inflatable dinghy. The landing was awash by a considerable surge. It was necessary to stand on the edge of the water taxi, grab a thick rope secured to an overhead scaffold and swing Tarzan fashion ashore! Great fun!

The Tarzan swing ropes (on a calm day)

The harbour master, customs and immigration officials were all helpful, and clearly understood visiting sailors. We had accidently left on the boat a document the custom official required. Normally we would have been sent back immediately to collect it. But not here, “We do need to see it, so please bring it in next time you come ashore”.

Once the dry land stopped wobbling and we had found our land legs, we went sightseeing with Robert’s Taxi Tour. It was interesting enough and we were able to orient ourselves a little. Napoleon’s residence was interesting and a good bit smaller than I had imagined. The governor’s residence “Longwood” was rather grand and we were amused to see giant tortoises on the lawn. One of which is reputed to be 180 years old. 

Longwood (If you look very carefully you can see the tortoises)

The British & St Helena tax payer, are paying for an airport to be built on the island. The cost is astronomical. The locals are divided on the issue, with a small majority in favour of its construction. 

Now, why is it being built one wonders, and why is it so huge? It will be able to accommodate very large and fast military and civil aircraft! 

Then one remembers Margaret Thatcher’s Falklands War. Of course, there is oil to be found in Antarctica. Possession of the Falklands entitles us to a bigger slice of that remote continent. We might even need to dissuade Argentina again, from claiming sovereignty over a group of islands clearly on their continental shelf.

Pippa’s folly

15^th April

Pippa and I went for a walk to the Sugar Loaf Hill. It started along a dirt track overlooking the sea. There was no hiding from the ferocity of the sun. It was incredibly hot, but we persevered. Near the summit, Pippa discovered a prickly pear cactus that she decided was in need of investigation. I think she must have had a tad too much sun. It resulted in her spending the rest of the day picking spines out of her hand. Having descended from the summit we retraced our route and headed for the shady gardens behind the Courtyard Café, for iced drinks. 

Val Joshua & Dee

19^th April,

Our next and final walk was in the excellent company of Val Joshua. Val is a bit of a legend in St. Helena. She loves walking, especially in the company of like-minded souls. We chose Diana’s Peak, a simple but very pleasant ramble. Unfortunately much of the time we were in quite thick mist. We had a very pleasant outing nonetheless.   

Val Joshua & Pippa

20^th April

The RMS (Royal Mail Ship) St. Helena came in on Sunday with essential supplies. It was fascinating to watch her unloading. A stream of boats ferried containers and cargo nets to the jetty and their cargo was lifted aboard by a large crane on wheels. 

The RMS is one of 2 remaining mail ships. With the arrival of the airport, it will be decommissioned early 2016. From 1502 until 2016 the only way to reach St Helena has been by sea.

We sailed next day on the 2100 mile passage to the Cape Verde Islands. We had fine weather as far as the Equator. But then had the ITCZ (Doldrums) to contend with. There were intermittent calms, squalls and threatening black clouds. It was very hot, and very frustrating.

And then the problems started. 

And then the problems started…

There was no wind, so I reached for the tin sail, but to my horror the engine wouldn’t start. We have three batteries on board and they were all completely flat. I think we had been overusing the watermaker.

We were, however pleased to see a black cloud approach and drop a deluge of water on us. As quick as we could, we rigged an awning and collected several gallons of rain into our water tank.

We then drifted all night and wished for some wind. We did eventually find a zephyr and morale improved a bit, but not for long. Next on the list of mishaps the GPS packed up. I narrowed it down to a fault on the antenna. But there was nothing to be done. Fortunately, we carry a hand held GPS, and Pippa has an ipad with an integral GPS and electronic charts.

Next day we found that our two big batteries were completely flat and wouldn’t charge from the solar panels. Fortunately the smaller one would. We were now able to start the engine, but had to be really strict and not use it for anything except engine starting.

16^th May         

We arrived at Praia on the island of Santiago on the 16^th May. It wasn’t somewhere we would want to revisit. We were at anchor and it was difficult to get ashore. We had a long paddle to the fisherman’s dock where we had to transfer to another dinghy to get to a place where we could scramble up a steep slippery bank to get ashore. We settled for just buying a few provisions and fuel before setting of again.

Praia. It wasn’t somewhere we would want to revisit.

20^th May.

We sailed on to Tarrafal in the north of the island to break the journey, and anchored in a pleasant bay overnight. The following day we set off on the 120 mile sail to Mindelo, on the island of Sao Vicente. We had three reefs in the mainsail and just a tiny bit of gib sail.

We tried hard to reach Mindelo, but wind and tide in the channel between Sao Vicente and Santo Antao was on the nose and just too strong.

We retreated to Sao Pedro on the west side of Sao Vicente. The wind was still blowing hard, but as we approached the anchorage we escaped the swell. We were watching the depth as we sought the best place to drop the hook. 

Suddenly, we spontaneously ducked as a large commercial aeroplane coming into land screamed over our heads. It really looked as though it might clip the top of the mast, though I’m sure that was just an illusion. Our anchor bit well into the sand and we let out double the length of chain that we really needed. What the heck, there was plenty of room and we were safe and secure. We read in the pilot book that we had anchored in one of the best wind surfing venues in the world!

Later that afternoon, We noted that a large orange and very official looking power boat was taking a lot of interest in us. Paranoia set in. Were we going to be arrested for endangering an aeroplane. 

The boat came nearer then backed off. I called them on the VHF radio but the language barrier prevented communication. Then they got closer and closer, and a man in uniform seemed to be preparing to leap aboard. But at the last moment the boat backed off again. It was too dangerous. Then as quickly as they had arrived, they lost interest in us, and started escorting a dozen or so fishing boats full of children on a circuit around the bay. And that was the last we saw of them. Thank goodness.

23rd May

In the morning the wind had abated considerably, but was still strong.We left Sao Pedro at 0500 just as it was getting light, and motored at full speed towards Mindelo. I say full speed, but the best we could manage against the wind and current was two knots! 

By mid-morning however, we were tucked up in the shelter of Mindelo Harbour on a marina pontoon. Then we started work. Once we had cleared customs we found a Mr Fix It who got us a new antenna for our GPS, and a new screen for our laptop. Next was to find and buy two new, heavy duty batteries. Once I had fitted them, we bought a couple of extra jerry cans and filled our tanks with diesel fuel. A shopping trip for provisions and to fill our gas bottles were the final chores.

We enjoyed our short stay in Mindelo. There was a little swell in the harbour, but not too much. The locals were friendly and helpful, and nearly everything we needed was within walking distance.

 Leaving Mindelo

On the 30^th of May we left the marina and anchored for the night in the harbour in order to make a quick departure for Azores. We were faced with eight hours of motoring against a strong wind, to escape the channel between the two islands.

It wasn’t the easiest of passages, we had light winds and/or no wind much of the time. For the last four days we were in the Azores High and completely becalmed. Fortunately we had foreseen this problem and had taken plenty of fuel in jerry cans.

Angra do Heroismo.

We arrived in Angra do Heroismo, on the island of Terceira in the Azores on the 15^th of June. What a fantastic place. A quiet marina, with helpful staff. A picturesque town, with red roofs. The green slopes of Monty Brazil.

But oh dear, did I say a quiet town? We have arrived just in time for the Sao Joao festivities. Last night, until the small hours, we were treated to three bands, with different types of music playing at full blast, all at the same time!

The evening before, it has to be said, we were out in the streets with the locals, watching the colourful processions and listening to the brass bands. It was quite something to be part of such benevolent, multi-generational crowds. The streets are illuminated, people hang patchwork tapestries from balconies, there is plenty of food and drink from numerous cafes and sandwich bars. People are enjoying themselves!

This is technically the completion of our circumnavigation. Not that that matters very much, for there still remains half the Atlantic Ocean to cross before reaching our Llangwm home. The weather is not what it could be for the crossing, so we are waiting patiently and watching the Grib files before setting off on the home leg of our odyssey. 

I will of course send you an Email ASAP after our arrival in Llangwm.

St. Helena steps

Quite right

RMS St Helena

43rd Blog

Hello again Blog readers.

In the last blog update we were to be found in South Africa visiting national parks. Well, since then we have sailed along the coast a fair bit, (more of that anon) but we are still in South Africa, and this update will start with tales from yet more national parks.

Hippopotamus

13^th of November 2014

We hired a car and drove north along the coast from Richards Bay to St Lucia Marine reserve. We had reserved a self-catering chalet at Gerda’s Place on the edge of town. Our kindly landlady asked us to be sure of locking the gate to keep hippo’s out of the garden! “They will create havoc, and it’s really hard to get them out until they have eaten or trampled just about everything in the garden. At dusk you can sometimes see them walking along the main street.” However we didn’t see them, but we were sure to lock the gate.

A Harem of Hippopotami

Early the next morning we took a delightful tourist boat tour on the local river, where we saw hippos doing what they normally do all day long: that is, wallowing in the mud while nine tenths submerged and sleeping off their diet of half a ton of grass and a few begonias. 

We also saw a monitor lizard and a few crocodiles. Several male weaver birds were busy making nests, high up on the stems of rushes. The female would inspect the workmanship of her male suitor and, if his nest was not up to scratch, would set to and tear it to pieces. Let that be a lesson for any male DIY enthusiast reading this report.  

Weaver birds and their nests

Before our next National Park visit, we did what we should have done much earlier and bought ourselves bird watching binoculars. They were relatively inexpensive until we realised that one pair between us would lead to squabbling. So we wisely forked out for two pairs.     

Sunday 23rd November

We drove up to Inkosana Lodge, in the Monk’s Cowl area of the Drakensberg Mountains, in company with Fi and Chris from the yacht Three Ships. Pippa and I stayed in a very upmarket rondavel, that is, a westernised version of a small, round, southern African-styled hut with a thatched roof. Fi and Chris chose a cheaper, more European room.

 Ours was the middle one

Our first outing was a simple day walk of just a few hours that helped shake the stiffness out of our legs. The next walk was rather more taxing. We took camping gear for a two day walk with an overnight stay in a Zulu cave.

We were safe and well sheltered in our cave, so were able to enjoy the thunder, lightning and torrential rain that entertained us in the late evening.

The entrance to our cave.

We got up early the following day, it was rather misty, the sort of day when you can’t decide if it’s necessary to wear your anorak or not. I elected to wear mine, but I soon got uncomfortably hot, so I took it off. “You know what’s coming next, don’t you”? Yes that’s right, before I knew it the rain increased and so I had to put it on again. 

By mid-morning though the sun was out, the rain had stopped and we were able to enjoy watching a troop of Baboons watching us.

Baboons watching us

Pippa in the Drakensberg Mountains.

The Drakensberg mountains.

The home of the Drakensberg Boys Choir School was just a few miles from our base at Inkosana. They were having their weekly afternoon concert. So we decided on a rest day and took the opportunity to relax with a bit of culture. Well I was bowled over, as was Pippa. I was speechless on the way out. I can’t ever remember being so moved by a choir. http://web.dbchoir.co.za/

Tuesday 23^rd December

Umkhuze Game Reserve is a lovely reserve with several hides. Pippa and I made the effort of getting up at 0500 one morning and driving a short distance to a hide at a waterhole. Our effort was well rewarded because of the number of birds and animals to be seen. In fact it was so good that we went back for more in the early evening. A female white rhino with its fairly big calf were the guests of honour.

The observant will notice that this is not a Rhino.

Until that is a lioness arrived. As she strolled into the arena, there was a rush of commotion as a leopard, that none of us had seen, retreated up into the high branches of a nearby tree. He/she made itself comfortable in classic pose, with legs hanging down on each side of a large branch. Just wonderful! As twilight edged towards dark, Pippa and I, along with a small group of other people, made our way to the tunnel linking the hide with the car park. To our surprise we were met by three other people who told us “There’s a lioness between the gate of the tunnel and the car park!” Oh bother!

A young man who obviously knew the ropes for such an eventuality, said we must stay calm, stay together, and to keep talking but not to shout. He would lead us away from the lioness and back to the car park by a different route. And so it was! But I don’t mind telling you my pulse rate increased a tad. 

January 2015

We went back to the hills for New Year, this time, though, it was to be just Pippa and me. Our goal was the Tugela Falls route on the Sentinel. It provided a pleasant walk on a fairly high mountain. (3000m) A 100ft cliff barred access to the summit plateau. But fortunately the park authorities had placed two near vertical chain ladders, so we were able to admire the view from the summit. (But where is the summit on a plateau). We became aware that the clouds were gathering and that we were in for rain, so we shot off like scalded cats. But we were not quick enough. The rain pelted down. Thunder and lightning crashed all round us. Hail like golf balls (OK, small golf balls) stung us even through our anoraks. We felt rather sorry for ourselves by the time we got back to the car. The Park Ranger on the gate was very kind and directed us to a room where we could put on dry clothes and lick our wounds.

Chain Ladders

The following day was delightfully sedentary as we explored The Golden Gates National Park by car. The park derives its name from the brilliant shades of gold cast by the sun on the numerous sandstone cliffs. Very pleasant driving circuits had been constructed and enabled us to see, black-backed jackal, bald headed ibis, baboons, wildebeest and many birds.

Golden Gates National Park

While driving to these various game parks, we had noticed that a lot of black people were hitchhiking. We had been warned that it was dangerous to offer lifts, and were advised not to do so. However a young man in his early twenties we saw hitching one day, seemed harmless enough, so I stopped and offered him a lift. Quite reasonably, Pippa felt safer siting in the back seat behind the hitch hiker. Our passenger spoke good English and was very polite. He told us that we were the only white people ever to give him a lift.

We were encouraged by this encounter and started to be less picky about who we would offer a lift. There were two Sotho young men with ceremonial staffs going to a gathering of some sort. Three fat ladies astonished us by squeezing into the back seats with their luggage on their knees. I thought the front wheels would lift off the road!  Two young women bundled a teenage boy into the car, who turned out to have a head injury and was heavily bandaged. The young women couldn’t fit in themselves, but gave the boy a ten rand note. We thought we were taking him to hospital, but it turned out that he had been to hospital and we were taking him home.

And so it went on. Pippa soon realised that she was quite safe being in the front seat. There were people we didn’t stop for, but everyone we did take was polite, interesting, and no threat whatsoever. All our passengers offered a token payment for the ride, which of course we refused.

Richard’s Bay, where Sula had waited patiently for us while we’d been gallivanting in the hills, is rather a tourist town. Loud boom boom music all night long was to be expected on New Year’s Eve. So we thought it best to escape to Ithala Game Reserve in northern KwaZulu-Natal for a few days.

The back of our house at Ithala

Ithala accommodation is very upmarket by our standards. Our “chalet” boasted a large bedroom, excellent shower room, small kitchen and comfortable lounge. All under a huge thatched roof, and we had a superb complimentary breakfast in the restaurant each day. Yes, I know we paid for it really, but it took some of the sting out of paying the bill (Which, by UK standards, was very reasonable)

Most of the game reserve was explored by car, and we saw plenty of scattered wildlife, but not, unfortunately, the elusive elephants.

The highpoint of our stay was a really good walk along some lovely cliff tops. and across a simply beautiful meadow. We met a huge troop of baboons on the way. They watched us from a safe distance and we watched them. We took a minor detour to avoid disturbing them.

Apart from the Baboons, the warm sunny weather, the cactus, the isolation (We saw no one), we might have been on a Derbyshire Edge. The walk was officially closed. A farmer had withdrawn his permission to cross the tiny section of the walk that entered his land. But we circumvented this minor inconvenience by walking to within a mile of his land, and then retracing our steps back to the car.

Game Reserve in Northern KwaZulu-Natal

Or is it Derbyshire?

Game Reserve in northern KwaZulu-Natal

2^nd January 2015

So the holiday was over and we were back in Tuzi Gazi Marina in Richards Bay. Our neighbour in the marina said there had indeed been a lot of noise all night long on New Year’s Eve, though the fireworks were spectacular. However, several boat owners joined in the fun by letting off distress flares. That wouldn’t normally be a problem, but unfortunately several still burning flares landed in the water close to berthed yachts. Our neighbour resolved to sit in his cockpit with a bucket of water close to hand.

We were having a pre-dinner can of beer one evening when I asked Pippa a question. "Why are we going back to the Caribbean"? In the course of the discussion, it became apparent that Brazil was not somewhere we wanted to go, because of the increase in violence towards yachties. Large marinas with armed guards are apparently OK. But small anchorages along the coast are considered much too dangerous. We had considered going to French Guiana and Suriname, but we would still arrive in Tobago during the Caribbean hurricane season and have a long wait before it was safe to go to the Islands. We have, of course, spent a season there already and don’t feel it’s worth all the hassle to go there again.

The alternative route is to go north west from Cape Town, to St.Helena. We will probably sail past Ascension, directly on to the Cape Verde Islands. From there we will go to Flores in the Azores. We will probably call into Cork to clear customs. Then on to Llangwm.         

The last time I cleared customs in Cork, some years ago now, I phoned to say we had arrived from America. ”Oh and where are you now?” Crosshaven. “Oh that’s a long way away. Tell me, have you any drugs on board” NO. “Do you have any guns on board?” NO. Well that will be fine then.”  We had cleared customs.

On the 11^th of January, 

Having agreed our new long term route, we departed Tuzi Gazi at 0400 on a long day passage to Durban. Light winds forced us to motor most of the way. We only found the helpful Agulhas Current for part of the passage, and arrived in Durban at midnight.

We had been advised to enter in daylight, but that couldn’t be helped. And we certainly weren’t going to heave too overnight. As it happened, we had no problem entering harbour and before too long were tied up at the International Jetty.

Customs, immigration, Police etc. were cleared without any problems the following day. You may remark “Why do you need to clear customs again, you haven’t left South African waters”. The answer is that I haven’t a clue. Nor have the people I asked.  But you have to. It’s just the way it is.

14^th January

Don’t worry if you get confused about the next bit, both Pippa and I did! Our South African visas were valid for three months, not quite long enough for our visit. Unfortunately we were required to apply for a renewal after two months.

So we duly made our on line application and got an appointment at the Visa Facilitation Centre.

We hadn’t got far into the abyss of bureaucracy, before they sent us away to get certified copies of our passport. Strange this, because of course they had seen the original. Nonetheless, we had to go to the post office to get a certified copy. After that our passage through Quality Control seemed to be going OK and we were passed on to Submission. After much confusion, we were told we had filled in online application 11.6 instead of 11.1: Visitors Temporary Residence Permit. So we had to go right back to square one.

The next stumbling block was getting a certified copy of our bank account. The solution turned out to be getting the account details on a USB memory stick and getting the yacht club to print it out for us. Then taking the paper copy and Pippa’s ipad to the local police station. I showed the policeman the paper copy and the original on the ipad. Once he had got the idea he stamped the statement to say this was a certified copy of an original document. What a palaver!

It’s a bit sad to note that the visa will take a month to reach Durban, and of course we will have sailed by then!!!

20^th January

We sailed for Port Elizabeth at 5pm. Unfortunately, at 9pm, the engine stopped! We had run out of fuel. I had forgotten to fill the tank. How embarrassing. Worse, despite all my efforts once I had filled the tank from the fuel cans we carry, I couldn’t get it started again. Still, at about this time the wind had increased a little and we made good progress under sail.

Before too long we picked up the Agulhas Current, and we had an exhilarating sail all day long with 10 knots showing on the GPS. I reckoned that we were sailing at five knots and had another 5 knots of current.

At 3am on the 23^rd we arrived and anchored off Port Elizabeth.

As I had been unable to start the engine, we contacted the Yacht Club and asked if it was possible to be towed in. The Yacht Club’s safety officer said their barge would tow us in, but could not go outside the harbour. However, we had a zephyr of onshore wind and once I had gained permission from the harbour master, we sailed in. It was a slow job, because the wind became very light. At one point we were down to ¾ of a knot. The barge was not to be seen, but the wind picked up nicely, so we continued to sail up harbour. About 50 metres from the yacht pontoons we saw a grubby little moorings boat with a small outboard engine. It turned out to be our barge! Despite our concerns, the three yard crew did an excellent job of ushering us into our berth.

But what a horrible place! Poor old Sula was quickly covered in black sticky manganese dust from the adjacent tanker-loading jetty.

From our berth we could see the centre of town, and were told that a supermarket could be found there. Unfortunately there was a tall fence and a railway line between us and the town. We walked along the fence line until meeting the heavily protected dockyard gate. No problem there and we were ushered through the turnstile. I asked the guard the way into town. “Oh just cross the railway line, and scramble up the grass bank.” I just love these situations. No silly Health and Safety here.

The next day Guy, a mechanic recommended by the Yacht Club, instaled new fittings for the fuel /water separator filter. My pride was restored somewhat because he took some time before identifying the problem. The fuel problem was sorted, but I then discovered a small leak in a cooling water hose. Our friendly mechanic offered to have a look for a suitable replacement. But he seemed to have gone to earth.

Guy, our friendly Mechanic

The refurbished fuel /water separator filter 

can be seen RHS centre of this photograph.

Our friendly mechanic turned up the following morning with a pipe that, with a bit of judicious trimming with a stanley knife, would do the job perfectly. So I fitted said hose, ran the engine, and realised that if we were quick we could sail for Mossel Bay. And so we did.

Thursday 29^th

On passage, sailing well and again helped a little by the Agulhas current. The sun shone all day, and we were entertained by both albatross and quite a few seals.

Friday 30^th Jan.

We arrived at Mossel Bay in the early afternoon and anchored outside the marina. The Marina staff were most apologetic that they didn’t have a berth ready for us, but anchoring was really no problem. We would be spending much of the afternoon catching up on our sleep. These two day passages are quite a chore, because it takes three or four days to get into a watch keeping rhythm. Never mind, we had a cat nap and in the late afternoon were treated to a wonderful aerobatic display.

January 31^st

We moved into the marina. And what a lovely place was Mossel Bay. It has tourism as the base of its economy but it is very well managed. The town centre is attractive and not at all crowded. The yacht club opened its doors to us and made us welcome.  

Monday 2^nd February,

At 8 am we sailed for Simon’s Town and had to use the tin sail quite a bit because of light winds. We were a little sad to leave Mossel Bay, but to be honest there wasn’t much to keep us there, and we had a good weather window to get us to Simons Town that was too good to miss.

Wednesday 4^th

After a quiet and uneventful passage we arrived at Simon’s Town. It was quite foggy so, unfortunately, we missed what should have been a memorable landfall.

Please note: 

People of a nervous disposition might wish to skip the next paragraph.

The Agulhas current and its effect in bad weather, has been the dominant consideration in all our passage planning from before our landfall at Richards Bay to Simon’s Town.

It flows from the Mozambique Channel off Madagascar in a roughly south westerly direction, then follows the South African coast near the 200 metre depth contour, from Richards Bay to Cape Agulhas, where it moves well off shore. It can reach speeds of six knots. 

So far, so good. However, if it meets up with a strong to gale force south westerly wind, which is fairly common, even in summer time, it can make for terrifyingly dangerous sea conditions. 

Our nautical charts warn of “Abnormal waves of up to 20 metres in height, preceded by a deep trough”. Big ships have apparently broken in two, when their bow was on one wave, and their stern on another. A yacht might literally fall off a wave into the trough. 

On the good side, weather forecasts in this part of the world are excellent. There are also ham radio operators who will give weather forecasts twice daily all along this coast. It’s simply a matter of not being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

We spent a great deal of time in harbour, studying weather reports and looking for windows of opportunity. Then we would dash as fast as we could for the next port. A bit like crossing a busy road. We had mostly excellent and fast sailing conditions or light airs. And like 99.9% of yachts making this series of passages, did so safely. Though it must be said, both Pippa and I are heartily pleased to be well clear of the unique Agulhas current phenomenon.
 

Thursday 5^th

Simon’s Town is an attractive small town, with many fine 19^thcentury buildings. The yacht club is most welcoming and the water in the harbour is clean enough to swim in. No manganese dust here.

Just twenty minutes pleasant walk from Simons Town is a lovely African penguin sanctuary, The Boulders Penguin Colony, where we can walk, explore, swim or just look. The weather is mostly fine and our only chores are shopping and a few  jobs aboard Sula.

                                               Cape Penguins

Our favourite beach, 

Plenty warm enough for swimming.

Saturday 7^th

We took the train to Cape Town and visited the Waterfront Marina and the Royal Cape Yacht Club. Perhaps surprisingly the former was much too posh for us and the latter was not up to much. Huge, and rather uninviting, with no local shops. But we will have to go there when the time comes, to check out of South Africa.