Under African Skies

Under African Skies
Nov. 11, Richards Bay, South Africa

Somewhere, about 1,000 miles southwest of Ile de la Reunion in the southern Indian Ocean, I saw the first signs of Africa. It was about 3:30 a.m. and Yacht Cleone, pointing westward, cut through the dark black water. The splashing at the bow, and the occasional flap of the sail, marked the time. The wind was hot and at my back, as it had been for most of the past two months. Cleone was less than a hundred miles off the tip of Madagascar, but far enough that I couldn’t see the island.

The stars were visible, but barely, overtaken by the yellow-amber glow of the moon, just above Cleone’s bow. Out here, there is no manmade light, except the light on the top of the mast, and the occasional passing ship. The moon, dominating the sky, was due to set, but it hung there gracefully as if it knew someone wanted to get a longer look. As it paused -- and I watched -- the color changed every few minutes. First shades of yellow then to shades of orange. But then, just before it dipped below the horizon and out of sight, the moon suddenly changed again. But this time to a color I’ve ever seen. Almost in an instant, it turned a dark rusty fire red. About a third of the sky glowed the same color, having no choice but to follow the moon’s lead. Every shift on my passage across the Indian Ocean has had its moments. This one was one of the greatest of the trip. And then, in an instant, it began to fade. The fiery moon dipped. And the sky began to flicker out, waiting a few minutes, and then the dark black night started to take over. What made that color, I wondered. I don’t have an answer, but my best guess is the desert and hot grasslands of South Africa and Namibia.

After more than 10 days at sea on the Reunion to South Africa leg, we arrived in Richards Bay. We slowly motored through the harbor coming to the marina at about 2:00 a.m. and we were greeted by a dozen local yachties who had their guitars out and their drink on. A few of the stronger World ARC drinkers (there are many!) were still awake, joining the locals. Champagne was being poured and the bubbly was overflowing as we docked. I was tying up our bow and stern lines with one hand, juggling a beer in the other and telling one of the locals that it would be a few minutes before I could have some champagne. Despite my fatigue, it was an incredible ceremony, marking the end of my journey on Cleone. I’ve spent more than two months on the boat and sailed across the Indian Ocean, almost 6,000 miles from Darwin, Australia.

Now it’s time for a better view of life under African skies.

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