Day 19

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Day 19 - Saturday, April 19 2008

Typhoon Neoguri is upon us. Our scheduled 0900 departure from Kowloon was delayed until almost 1300, a combination of last night’s late entry and the unwelcoming conditions outside the harbour. Heavy rain lashed down all morning and we nosed our way into the channel and the open sea in very limited visibility. A set of eight giant wipers clean the bridge windows, same principle as with a car windscreen but on a much bigger scale, but could still barely cope with the torrential downpour.

The pilot and the skipper chose to direct operations from the wing deck where whatever was in our way could be seen more clearly, periodically returning to the bridge to check instruments, dripping like gundogs after a water retrieve. In their case, some thoughtful person had ironed their oilskins but they were still scant protection against Neoguri’s onslaught.

If conditions now were more favourable for heading seaward, I shudder to think what they were like earlier. Before we’d even dropped the pilot, the effect of the heavy swells was very pronounced as we rolled and pitched our way out.

We’re heading for Yantian, just down the coast near Macao, which would normally be a quick and uneventful hop. The skipper had been promoting it as one of the best shoreside stops on the trip, but that looks a long shot for the moment.

Neoguri is the first typhoon of the year and the second-earliest to hit Hong Kong since detailed record-keeping began in 1946. It’s still about 250 km to the south of us, moving north at 12 km/h towards Hainan Island, our next stop after Yantian. The centre wind force is put at about 70 knots, but even here on the fringes we’ve recorded gusts of just over 50 knots.

The decks are awash (with rain, not seas) and sheets of water are whipping horizontally off the container stacks. We passed a mid-size China Lines freighter that was shipping heavy waves, plunging nose down into the swells and emerging to throw a Niagara of spray from forepeak to midships. A distress call was logged from a Russian vessel, too far away for us to be of any assistance, but picked up by other ships in closer range. As yet, no further reports. Mid-afternoon, a radio message came through that the Yantian pilot service may be suspended. If so, the plan is to anchor in the roads and ride out the storm.

It’s now 1830 and the wind has eased a bit, down to a steady 35 knots, although the rain continues unabated. It’s like permanently being in a drive-through a car wash. Florian, the second mate, has taken the opportunity to water the bridge’s collection of bonsai trees and pot plants. They’ve had a thorough soaking on the leeward wing deck, and so did he (twice) as he put them out and fetched them back.

He says that will make them much happier, so I suggested that he should apply the same principle to Linda next time she ventures topside. Maybe that would wash away the lingering Kowloon Sheraton internet barbs.

A good dinner washed down with sloshes of Les Cayolles proved more effective, and all is sweetness and light again, which is more than can be said for the outside of the cabin. The rain has stopped, but we’ve now had confirmation that Yantian has been closed to shipping - pilots can’t get out - and likewise Hong Kong.

We’re now doing long and lazy loops in the Yantian approaches, keeping a close eye on the radar for what traffic is still out here, punctuated by a series of shudders when a heavy swell hits the rudder while going hard over to change course. We’re only mooching along at a couple of knots, so inevitably we get a buffeting when turning broadside to the wind. There’s no sheltered anchorage handy, and even if there was, riding at anchor in these swells is not exactly fun. Better to keep moving so we’re just going to tough it out. Still, it’s far from uncomfortable - or even unpleasant. We’ve been through far worse under sail off the Wild Coast and that was in a 28-foot sloop and not a 340-metre container ship. In that Force 9 storm, we had two drogues out and only a storm jib flying to give a bit of steerage, when we were passed by a cruise liner all lit up like Christmas tree. We could even see passengers genteelly sipping from wine glasses, seemingly oblivious to the conditions outside as cold, wet, and hungry we roller-coasted up down the walls of water and battled to avoid a fatal broach. If envy is one of the seven deadly sins, we were definitely unrepentant sinners that time. Smaller vessels in the China Sea will probably now be looking at Tosca in the same way.

This is a good a time as any to give you a refresher on Tosca’s technical specifications so these are attached in separate files for those of you with an engineering bent or a yen for nautical detail. It’s now 2300 so I will retire to the hammock with a glass of wee low flier and The Times crossword, syndicated in the South China Morning Post and a by-product of last night’s excursion to Kowloon. As circumstances unfortunately got in the way of Linda’s expected sight-seeing, I thought the least I could do was buy her a newspaper in compensation, although I managed to get one free at the Sheraton business centre. She hasn’t even looked at the crossword, though, so rather than waste it, I suppose I’ll just have to do it myself. As for the low flier - I’m told it’s an excellent precaution for seasickness, and when confronted with Typhoon Neoguri, you can’t be too careful. Slainte!

Noon position 22◦19.81 N - 114◦08.02 E
Day’s run to noon - 83 miles
7,918 miles out from Khor Fakkan
Heading 263◦
Local time GMT+8
Average speed - 22.2 knots

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