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Bird Island to Mosselbaai

We left the Bird Island anchorage well before dawn. We hauled anchor in the pitch black, starless night, and not even the silhouette of the lighthouse shone. Only the endless cycle of the brilliant beacon split the darkness. We could hear the surf pounding on the shore and the reefs beside us, but the birds were still quiet and asleep as we slipped away.

Variable winds had us motor-sailing on tranquil seas. What a change from the washing machine we'd experienced just yesterday. Within an hour, the sun peeked over the horizon and the morning sky was painted in bright hues of pinks and oranges and reds.

There was no lack of entertainment during this day. Sky and sea teemed with hungry gannets, gulls and terns. We watched as pods of dolphins herded fish and took turns feeding. The water roiled and thrashed in the frenzy. Fish jumped. The gannets hovered opportunistically overhead, waiting to benefit from the spoils of the dolphins' work.

Awhile later, David spotted a seal flipper poking out of the water. They always appear to waving hello. Soon two seals were swimming along side us, jumping gracefully out of the water, performing any number of aquatic acrobatics to our amusement. They swam along until they were obviously bored with us or thought of something better to do, and headed abruptly back towards shore.

During an afternoon cockpit chat, I spied a spout to port. Sure enough, a whale, presumably a southern right whale in this area, spouted twice and then breached. To our disappointment, he never came closer and we lost sight of him as he sounded and never re-surfaced in our view.

Then, of course, there are the endless line of ships that ply these waters. The AIS was kept busy with 4-6 ships on the radar screen at all times. Some were far off; some were a bit too close for comfort. It was a clear, bright day and there were no close-calls. Looking at the AIS, however, which does not represent ships to scale, it looked as if we were having a run-in with a the freighter, Densa Cobra, that was more than ½ mile to port.

Towards late afternoon, we were disappointed when the promised easterlies never materialized. We had  headed out to the 200m contour, now much further offshore, in hopes of catching some of the Agulhas Current as well as sailing a bit off the light west winds, but never saw more than ½ knot and the west winds continued. We tacked towards shore again, frustrated with our slow progress, but overall pleased with the day.

We settled into our watch schedule, taking two hour naps rather than the usual three. Once the sun went down, it was cold and raw with intermittent showers. Two hours was adequate chilling time and it felt good to snuggle into a warm bunk. Conversely, climbing into the cold cockpit was … exhilarating!

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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.