I cleared out of New Zealand on May 4, 2003, bound for Fiji. The weather service had
predicted the formation of two low pressure systems, but recanted. So with a good
forecast, Ruth Avery and I put to sea, and we were happy to do so--until
the following night. One of those lows formed after all ...
Savusavu,
Fiji, was the most beautiful and spectacular place I had ever visited. The locals
will greet you with a loud "BULA!" and a big smile, but if the hospitality gets to be
too much, you can always steal away to some remote anchorage. So remote you might
in fact have to give it a name ...
Occasionally a sailor does get a free lunch.
I called it the Slocum Standard, in honor of the great solo circumnavigator, the bar
against which I measured myself. Approaching the current swept, reef strewn Torres Strait,
I had only a sextant and a wrist watch by which to fix my position, having sold off my
handheld GPS receiver in NZ. But just now sailing Slocum's way was getting hairy!
I soon learned to look for other clues of immanent landfall, such as a
Brown Booby staring me in the face.
I spent three weeks in Darwin, Australia, taking on provisions and preparing for the six
thousand mile haul across the Indian Ocean to Southern Africa. There are few stops
in between, but they are good ones. Cocos Keeling is the picture postcard of tropical
paradise. Yachts anchor behind Direction Island, where there is a small pavillion ashore
including a BBQ pit. Cruisers often carve name boards and hang them under the roof as
a record of their passing.
The Indian Ocean can be rough, but it was all fast sailing. Ruth Avery
consistently put down 150-mile days, sometimes more. Day after day she bowled along
with her starboard rail awash in a smother of foam. Now this is real sailing.
Though not exactly pleasant, there is that sense of earning one's stripes,
of getting "sailorized" -- salted down and toughened up.
I made Richard's Bay, South Africa on November 18, 2003. South Africa would put
my sailing skills to the test. When I arrived, the friendly folks at the Tuzi Gazi marina
offered to tow me into a slip. I accepted with gratitude. But the tow boat broke down,
requiring yet another towboat to tow them in. Meanwhile I sailed Ruth Avery in near the slip, dropped
anchor, and, with some help from the assembling crowd of gawkers, warped her in without so
much as a scratch. This is a true story, I swear!
Two weeks later I began the march down around Southern Africa, making Durban on December 4.
The weather along the east coast of South Africa is dominated by the passage of cold fronts coming up from Antarctica. In most cases they usher in a southwesterly gale which will huff and puff for about twelve to thirty six hours. Combined with the southwesterly flowing Agulhas Current, sea conditions can be deadly. The strategy therefore is to hop from harbor to harbor between gales, when the wind is generally northeasterly. Engineless Ruth Avery managed it with little difficulty.
Pachyderms in paradise!
One should not be too anxious to put the stormy southern cape behind so as
to miss out on the game parks.
Shakaland was originally built for a documentary film on the life of the
famed and fiercesome King Shaka. This re-creation of a Zulu village is now
open to tourists.
Once west of Cape Agulhas it is, as the saying goes, a whole new ball game. Now there
is the cold, northwesterly flowing Benguela Current, and for the first time since
New Zealand I encountered fog. The water color also changed to green, and I saw long
strands of brown kelp in the water and seals lolling about.
Simonstown, in False Bay, is a delightful little town, as well as a decent place to provision for the Atlantic Crossing.
In the Cape area are Cape Penguins. They seem well aware that they are a
tourist attraction. Just before I snapped the shutter, this little fella
composed himself for the shot.
My log reads: "Feb. 1, 2004. Time: 1330hrs; Speed: 6kts; Course:330m; Wind: S 16; Lat/lon: Cape Point".
I had anticipated this photo op for some time, but in the end I never got any good photos.
Seen just off the starboard bow is Cape Point, the end of the infamous Cape of Good Hope.
We had finally turned the corner, though the tropics and Trade Winds were still one
week's sailing away.