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East London to Algoa Bay

We were up at 0400 checking out the weather and deciding whether to leave East London or not. The next port of call, Port Elizabeth (PE), is an overnight of about 134nm and reputed to be less stressful than the Durban to East London leg. The weather window was short, but afforded us enough time to make port, so we decided to haul anchor and head out.

As we were preparing to leave, one of the local tugs, all dressed in colorful flags, passed by. We figured the nautical display definitely wasn't for our benefit and wondered what occasion or dignitary's visit was responsible for being all decked out.

The day was upon us as we maneuvered our way out of the Buffalo River, through the breakwater and back into the Indian Ocean. The view was lovely and reminded us that two of a sailor's favorite days are when he arrives in port … and when he leaves again.

We sailed with light breezes under a clear, pale blue sky. Fringing low clouds clung to the horizon. Pods of dolphins worked hard for their breakfast all around us. Gulls and terns circled in the sky above and gannets, their heads golden in the morning sun, dove at breakneck speeds into the sea. The day was as pleasant as it gets along this coast.

We found the 200m contour line and with it the Agulhas Current once more. The current is less strong as it widens and dilutes after East London, but we were still enjoying a 2 to 3-knot push. The winds increased in the afternoon and the combination of a southeast swell, leftover southwest waves and building following seas had us bouncing around akin to a washing machine at times. The forecast called for E/NE winds till the morning. We prefer to arrive at a new, unfamiliar port during daylight hours and so slowed down a bit, heading out of the current a bit closer to shore. With the staysail alone, we were still tooling along at 7 knots.

We were doing well with the easterly winds with an ETA of 0630 in Port Elizabeth. Just after 0200, the wind god flipped a switch and the wind changed to west. Bah! We could either motor the rest of the way to Port Elizabeth (about 6 hours), beat against the westerly winds for 8-10 hours, or seek an anchorage at Bird Island, one we'd read about in the Tony Herrick's cruising guide about 35 nm from PE. We hove-to for a couple of hours, planning to make the anchorage in Bird Island at first light. We could hear the breath sounds of either seals or dolphins, swimming nearby. Closer to shore, the ride was more tenable. The night was cold and windy, but the sky was clear and star-studded.

At first light, we were motoring the 7nm to Bird Island. We could see the beacon of its distinctive red and white lighthouse flashing in the distance. Penguins popped up, curious about the visitors, then dove shyly as we neared. A seal flipper, then a nose, peeked out of the water. The cacophony of bird cries increased as we neared the island. A flotilla of gannets took flight as we dropped the hook just in front of the lighthouse. It was a bit rolly, but we could deal with it. We tidied up quickly, set the anchor alarm and headed for a nap. Birdwatching could wait.

Riding Out A Gale in East London Harbor

Gale warnings have been forecast for the Wild Coast area since last week. For once, all of our weather predicting sources agreed AND they were correct. For non-sailors, there are different levels of gale force winds ranging from a moderate gale (28-33 knots of wind) to a whole gale (48-55 knots). We were looking at a fresh gale (34-40 kph), Force 8 on the Beaufort Scale, coming our way. Multiply knots by 1.15 to figure out miles per hour or by 1.85 for a km conversion if you want to put this into perspective. No matter the terminology or how you measure it, it's a lot of wind.

We'd just seen more wind than this on our way down from Durban and much more wind than this in our past sailing experience, but it's never pleasant to look forward to a gale. It's Neptune's way of paying sailors back for all the lovely sunrises and sunsets and gorgeous sailing days he's provided along the way. How can you appreciate the good days when you have nothing to compare them to?

The interesting aspect of the upcoming weather was that the wind was forecast to blow a fresh gale from the NE for one day and night and then back to the SW for another day and night of gale force winds. We're glad we're at anchor in the protection of East London's harbor, because outside the breakwater of East London is no place to be when a southbuster hits.

We've been on the hook here for a couple of days and feel pretty good about the holding. One of the issues here is that we are anchored in 40' and the rest of the boats are moored, fore and aft, so they don't swing at all. We needed to let out enough scope to be able to swing with river current, tides and wind without fear of hitting another boat. We also needed to make sure we were clear of the channel and the turning basin for the large ships that enter day and night. David chose our anchoring spot well and we seem to be clear of all obstacles while still being out of the way of turning ships and tugs.

In anticipation of the big blow, we let out a little extra anchor chain and checked the snubber. We made sure that the anchor alarm was set. Most everything on deck was still lashed down from our passage. David had been working on the mainsail, however, and made sure all was secure before heading down below for the evening. It was blustery during the day, but never got above 25 knots. From experience we know that when evening and darkness descend it's usually the time things start to happen. We relaxed, had dinner and waited for the wind.

It finally came around 8PM and with it came thunder, lightning and rain. It blew and blew, the thunder roared, the lightning  lit up the harbor. It poured torrents, but it was nothing like we expected. We saw gusts to 35 knots, but not more. The rain was horizontal at times, but in general, it was as good as gales get and we counted our blessings. Cups stayed put and all was well. The decks looked particularly clean in the morning and we had enough water in the dinghy to do our laundry. We waited for part 2 of the gale from the SW and it proved to be a non-event. It was quite breezy, but the day was sunny and warm under a blue, cloudless sky and we went for sundowners to visit the folks at the Buffalo River Yacht Club. Thanks, Neptune.

Moral of the story? It pays to be ready, but it's a relief when what you're ready for doesn't materialize.

Down South Africa's Wild Coast pt. 2

A Wild Ride Down the Wild Coast

The day started out peacefully enough as we raised the mainsail in the bay and began our passage to East London. There were light winds from the south/southwest as predicted and we motor-sailed, looking for the Agulhas Current that would provide the push we needed to get down the coast quickly. The Durban coastline receded into a haze and disappeared behind us as we made our way south.

The prevailing southeast swell was 2m and a long period, but the southwest waves were short and close, making for a bumpy, unsettling ride. We were glad we'd taken our Stugeron. We had expected rain, but sailed under unexpectedly, pleasant, sunny skies. The light southerlies persisted long into the afternoon before turning southeasterly. We ventured out past the 200m contour to about 25nm offshore finding a max of only 2-1/2 knots of current. We wandered back to the 200m contour about 12 miles offshore and settled for 8 knots of speed (5.5 knots motor-sailing against light SW winds + the current) which would put our arrival at East London precariously close to the end of our favorable weather window … IF the weather window stayed true to forecast.

All the usual malfunctions cropped up immediately after three months of not sailing. The handheld auto-pilot remote wasn't working. The chartplotter was fickle … sometimes working, sometimes not. David sorted through the problems and one by one and got them handled as best he could. The chartplotter, for instance, was working fine, but would not display AIS results, so we had to rely on the VHF for AIS data. In general though, the day was uneventful and replete with naps, until nightfall. Then, as dusk rolled around and darkness enveloped us, things started happening.

First, the current increased to 3-4 knots, then the wind direction finally changed to ENE. This was a good thing. We shut down the engine and did an easy 9 knots with the single-reefed mainsail alone. The wind continued to back and increase until we were nearly downwind. The current increased to 5 knots. The crescent moon hid behind thick clouds and we sped ahead at 10 knots, then 11, then 12. The rain began, visibility decreased, and the AIS began chirping. We hadn't seen another boat or ship all afternoon, now they converged on us as if heading to a freighters' convention. The wind changed more northerly. We jibed and altered course a bit.

The wind freshened to 25-30 knots. Downwind that's not usually an issue, but in retrospect we should have reduced the main and poled out with a reefed headsail at that point to better balance the boat. We didn't. When the winds increased to a sustained 40 knots, combined with following seas, we decided it was time to take another reef. Before we managed to accomplish this however, an unexpected 50 knot blast from the north and huge following waves caused a series of unfortunate events.

We jibed first one direction, then back the other, causing the main to flog violently. A sail slide snapped and then another. Ping, ping, ping, ping like dominoes … until the mainsail clung precariously to the mast with only a few sail slides left to hold it. In the rain and wind, we managed to corral the mainsail in the lazy jacks and get it down and lashed. In the process, a batten snapped when it slammed against the spreader. We continued on with the staysail, still maintaining 11-12 knots. When dawn appeared, we were tired but still on track for an early arrival in East London.

The shore was mostly huge sand dunes which seemed to merge with the sea until we spotted the East London skyline around 1200.

We headed for the breakwater at the entrance to the Buffalo River. With permission from Port Control, we entered the harbor and passed huge car carriers loading and unloading at the busy dock. By 1430, we were anchored peacefully in the river behind moored boats at the Buffalo River Yacht Club across from Latimer's Landing. We broke an all-time record for the most miles sailed in Nine of Cups in 24 hours … an impressive 214 nm. Keep in mind, that's with motor-sailing and up to a 5-knot current to help us along. We were glad to be in East London and very, very tired.

There were repairs to do, but for now … sleep … we just needed some sleep.