SALDANHA BAY TO TABLE BAY
17th JAN 2004

Our fast sail from Cape Town to Saldanha just before Christmas had given me a certain perspective of time and speed on a J27 which I expected to be repeated for the return trip. I added three hours on as it would be an upwind sail. On the way down I had carried 33 liters of fuel, in case of a 'no wind' scenario - and used only a cupful, so this time, I took 13 liters with, calculating that with the abundance of wind on our coast, that should be more than enough. I was wrong. The lessons at sea just don't stop, do they?

The distance (shortest routing) between the two ports is 65 nautical miles. I calculated an average speed of 5 knots, would get us to Cape Town in 13 hours. An 07h00 departure would therefore see us back in Cape Town by 20h00, which is the exact time of the current sunset, leaving another full hour of twilight. Any additional mileage we would have to do because of tacking, I figured would be offset by a more than likely higher average speed than 5 knots. That was the plan anyway. Here is the reality.

Our crew consisted of Chris, and Phillip, my two regulars, Iaan (my cycling partner), Lezanne (trying our her second sail of her life and certainly her first offshore sail) and myself as skipper. We left Cape Town by car at 0500 and arrived at the yacht club in Saldanha at 06h30. The club was locked up, so Iaan jumped the fence and woke up someone on their boat at the jetty, who had a key for the gate. Delay number one. Chris and I brought Smackwater Jack to the jetty and loaded up all the gear, sorted out fuel, water and all the other bits. Delay number 2. We finally got going by 07h45 in a cool southerly of about 12 knots. We hoisted full sails immediately and enjoyed what was to be the last of any flat water sailing we would experience for two full days.

I made use of the perfect sailing weather to give my crew a chance at the helm. I rotated them each after an hour. This helped a lot with boredom and it's always a good feeling to watch young people acquiring new skills. The sail out of the heads at Saldanha went without a hitch, but we had to stick in several tacks to clear South Head Light, which took us almost till 10h00 to clear. Because of a lumpy sea, I had to set the boat up to foot slightly to maintain boatspeed, but it was surprisingly difficult to sustain a speed over 5 knots in the lumpy and light conditions, so typical on the West Coast in the early morning.

We sailed on past Vondeling Island, all the way down 16 Mile Beach, and had to put in another tack to clear Yzerfontein headland. At that point the wind died off and we had to motor for about 45 minutes. We had Dassen Lighthouse abeam by 15h00 when the southerly returned at 20 knots, so we dumped the No. 2 genoa for the No. 3 and got our boat speed up to 6 knots, hoping to make up some lost time. The GPS gave an ETA of 21h30 in Cape Town, which I was not too happy about, but I kept hoping our heading would improve, together with better boatspeed, to reduce the ETA down to 20h00, where we would at least be entering Table Bay with some light.

By 17h15 we were near Grotto Bay and only about 1 mile from the beach when the wind switched to SE and increased to 40 knots within five minutes. I called for the main to be reefed. We had gone over the reefing procedure at the dock and everyone knew what to do, but we were heeling severely and we were on a lee shore in very steep seas, now breaking furiously all around us. The port window was fully under water most of the time and Lezanne later said she could see the entire keel from her position on the rail. The reefing went off OK, sticking the hook end at the luff first and then the aft end. The back of the boom was lying in the cockpit and flogging violently, as I struggled to keep the boat head to wind.

Now let's talk about knots, and specifically about bowlines. They don't come undone providing they are under tension. But flogging wildly at the sticky end of the mainsail, the bowline for the reefing line, which I had personally tied at the dock before we left, now came undone - and I watched in dismay as I saw the line slipping out the cringle and back towards the boom end, with no stopper knot to prevent it going into the boom - and the end of our ability to reef the boat down. So, I shouted really hard: 'STOP!!!"

My crew, now dazed and confused and uncertain what to do, went into neutral mode. I handed the helm to Iaan and went down myself to re-tie the reefing line, but it was extremely difficult to get to the cringle. The leech of the main was flogging so violently, it was impossible for me to hold it still enough to pop the line through. Then I got Chris down to assist and finally, we got it through and the bowline retied. As we winched the reef in, the end of the boom hooked under the lifeline and in my haste to free it, I managed to get my index finger pinched between the boom and lifeline. Ah, the joys of sailing with a bloody sore finger. With the crew all back on the rail, we tried sailing into the gale, but it was terrible, with sheets of water pouring into the boat and soaking all of us and the boat taking a severe pounding. Seawater was pouring over the coachroof, right over the instruments and down into the cockpit. It was not the most encouraging of scenes. I did a quick re-think about our ETA, which would now worsen by more than an hour or two as our boatspeed was only 4 knots, and the prospect of arriving in Table Bay at midnight in a full gale didn't pique my sense of safe sailing by much, so I decided to turn downwind and sail to Dassen Island, the only shelter along this stretch of coast in a southerly gale. This meant another two hours of downwind sailing to get to Dassen by nightfall, but at least we were doing 9 knots. We all donned lifejackets and pondered all the arrangements with families and friends which would now all have to be cancelled, but safety comes first. Phillip, who had coped well with seasickness all day, finally capitulated and fed the fish. The rest of us were all a bit seasick from the constant offshore swell. I had tried a medication called "Asic" - a treatment for morning sickness in pregant women, but it didn't help me much. Seasickness is such a problem as it really takes the snap, crackle and pop out of a sailing trip. I hope I can find a remedy that suits me. If anyone reading this, has any suggestions, please let me know.

We arrived at Dassen at 1930, just before sunset. The wind had gone back to southerly and had abated to 25 knots. The shelter at House Bay is good, if not a little desolate. It's a marine reserve and other than the keeper, there are only penguins and seals there. One is not allowed ashore without consent and crayfish are only allowed to be caught with a permit and not after 16h00, which took care of any thoughts of dining on delicacies that night. We anchored close to the beach, with three other yachts in the bay for the night. It was surprisingly cold - much colder than the weather forecast had indicated. We dried ourselves off and hung all the salt drenched gear out to dry (which it never does at night anyway!) and the five of us huddled in the cabin, trying to assess our food and water supplies and strategy in respect of who would sleep where. We had more than enough food for another two meals between all of us, plus we had 5 liters of fresh water untouched. So we had a beer and started on the crisps and tasty stuff as we all phoned wives and family to give them the news that we would not be in port till the next day.

To say we were unprepared, would be an understement. We were all cold and most of us, did not bring socks with. Bad news to have cold feet - and guess what, you can't fall asleep if you have cold feet. After "supper", if you can call it that, we figured out sleeping arrangements. Chris volunteered to sleep in the cockpit (he's the tough guy) as he likes fresh air and open space, which is why he does foredeck. There were no other contenders for his spot, so he had the cockpit all to himself. We unhooked the main cabin backrest and put that in the cockpit and secured it to the traveller. This meant he had to lie flat on his back all night on a bunk about 12 inches wide. He covered himself with the boom cover for protection from dew and cold.

Down below, Iaan got the main bunk, Lezanne and Phillip shared the forepeak, and I took the quarter berth. Hell, it was cold! Down below condensation formed inside the hull with four people's body heat and breath and soon everything felt soggy and damp - even the cushions. It was just impossible to warm up. I wrapped my feet in a jacket and pulled a towel over my chest, but I was cold all night. At least we all had woollen caps, which was better than being totally cold. It was a long night and the wind kept blasting through down the beach and shaking all the clothing and halyards and setting up a heavy vibration which had us all awake with each gust. I constantly propped myself up to check that our single anchor was not dragging. I felt so sorry for Chris up on deck. In the morning he told us that he saw a bit of light on the eastern horizon and consoled himself that soon the sun would be up and he could finally warm up. The light was, however, the moon - and he felt his spirit quail as he estimated that the rise and fall of the moon meant many more frozen hours lying up on deck. Well, he survived and I called him the "Ice Man" after that. Eventually, it was 05h00 and the sky lightened for a new day. We were unaware that it would be 32C by the time we arrived in Cape Town.

It was still very cold as we all climbed back into our sailing gear, still wet from all the salt. We left House Bay at 06h00 after a breakfast of apples, bananas, sandwiches, chocolate and Coke. We put up the No. 3 and a full main and headed south to Cape Town with Lezanne at the helm. After 20 minutes, our speed started dropping, so we changed to the No. 2 and after another 15 minutes, our boatspeed was down to 2 knots. So we put the outboard to work and motored for a while.

That's what we thought, but 'a while' turned into almost the rest of the trip. The wind just stayed away. Now there can be few things less pleasant than being on a good sailing yacht, with an outboard buzzing all day, in windless conditions in a lumpy sea - in fact it's a perfect recipe for getting seasick all over again. Conversation petered out completely as most of us stared dully at the horizon as we rocked, yawed and rolled our way slowly southwards. We could see Table Mountain all the way from Dassen island. It seemed to fade and clear, but never seemed to get any closer.

By 11h00 we passed Bok Point, where we had turned around the previous day and we could just make out the nuclear reactors at Koeberg Power Station some 5 n.miles to port. It was a very long day. I used the time to calculate fuel consumption on the new outboard, which behaved itself impeccably. I now know that it gives 2,5nm per litre of fuel in windless conditions offshore. One tank of 3 liters, lasts for 1 hour and 15 minutes at half throttle and drives a J27 at 5,2 knots average - All of this useless information to anyone except myself, but such trivia is needed to occupy a bored and weary mind at sea. Every hour and a quarter the motor would splutter to a halt and Chris and I would go through the ritual of trying to refuel the motor without spilling any into the sea. (That's another trick I learned, so I bought a 24 liter tank this week with a fixed line, bypassing the internal tank, which will save me ever having to refuel at sea again.)

I don't think any of us spoke for about two hours and finally by 13h30 be could see Robben Island's low profile dead ahead, thanks to the accuracy of GPS navigation, and yes, there was some wind on the water to port! We steered towards it and motor sailed till we were fully in the breeze. Finally a proper south easter to get us back to port in style. We only had 1 liter of fuel left at that stage, so I was pretty relieved to be sailing again.

However, it didn't last longer than 30 minutes and veered more than 30 degrees to the west, allowing us to point directly at the harbour entrance, some 8 nm away. But it soon became a flat calm, so it was back to our outboard again. So what could we do? We motored along slowly at 3 knots trying to squeeze the best possble consumption out of the motor, but with Robben island light abeam, that was the end of our fuel. We spluttered to a final and silent halt on an oily ocean, right under Table Mountain, the bay full of anchored freighters and tankers, but not a yacht in sight and no-one to borrow some two stroke fuel from.

Now I know, it's embarrassing asking for help in a situation like that. One is not in any real danger and why not just sit and wait for the wind to arrive. It was very hot in Cape Town (32C) We could feel the hot puffs of air off the mountain even that far from land. So I decided to phone the NSRI, of which I am a life member. They were pretty cool about my request for fuel and within 20 minutes and some VHF chat with us, they despatched a speedboat with fuel. I was a bit surprised to see 7 crew in wetsuits in a large power boat to deliver only 10 liters of fuel, but they explained they had been on an exercise and were able to respond immediately, and that this was a far nicer task to perform as it was "real". What a marvellous service these guys render, which is why I have always contributed to their cause. A suitable donation will be made this week and a case of frosties for the crew at Station 2 - Bakoven. What a friendly bunch of guys. They waited till our outboard was running and followed us for a few minutes, before speeding off to their base. One of their crew members sails on Hillbilly, the other J27 at RCYC.

We docked at Royal Cape at 15h30 - very grateful to be back and looking forward to a hot shower and a hot meal and some cold beer. That was quite a trip and will change my future planning for ever. I will always plan on it being a two day trip, and if we get to Dassen Island by 14h00 we can push on to Saldanha without a problem. Crew will be required to have the correct checklist of clothing, a sleeping bag, towel - and the boat will have a pot and a kettle on board. These small additions would have made the stopover a lot more enjoyable.

The good news is that all the crew want to race with me on Wednesday again.

Safe sailing for 2004!