Sailing Africa

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27/12/2016

After having recovered mostly from our 12 500km bike jaunt, 1000km stroll across Spain, 3 month camping in Africa & now returned to Australia to the wedding if the century of Sarah 'The Princess' to her knight in shining armour, Brennen...in an idylic parkland setting wedding & reception, with fairy lit cave to set it off.........we were now ready for Christmas, apparently !

During our 3 month African sorjourn an old school mate Neil Scott had asked if I might help sail his 45ft Island Packet yacht, now stationed in Simonstown, South Africa (my old Naval Military base), up the west coast of Africa, via St Helena, Ascension Island, Cabo Verde group, The Azores and into the Med through Gibraltar, a journey of around 7000nm (12 600km) all in.
Coincidently the self same distance we just cycled across Europe.

And the reverse journey my G.G.G.G Grandfather Fredrick Willem made in 1870 with the Dutch East India Co(and the trip I had made just prior to my 1st birthday, on the Union Castle line with my newly wed Mum & Dad in England).

On the 27/12/16 I flew out via Mauritius to Cape Town to help prepare the boat in readiness for the trip. I booked into a room, close to the airport in a half dischevelled, but overlooking the bay, room in a local hotel.
Already this was not going to be the same, the love of my life, 'my better half', my companion and best mate was not here ! Feeling like half a person, bit of a void, but the commitment is made....so no backing out now !
Set the clock - 120 days from now, Jan will be back with me in the Med, God willing.

My best mate in S.A. , Ian Scott (Neils brother) had kindly offered to put us up whilst preparing the boat, and hence made daily trips to the marina, sailmakers, canvas factory, engineering workshops, riggers, chandlers, numerous boating related establishments scurrying back & forth between anti fouling, sealing, polishing & buffing until I had begun to wonder that we might never leave.

The month it took in preparation was only intermittently broken by an afternoon at "The Cape Coloured Minstrels Carnival" known as Tweede Neuwe Yaar (2nd New Year) a day during which Simonstown burned (well the mountian surrounding it did) & the 5 non stop water carrying helicopters dipping their family saloon car sized bags in the ocean not 20m from our mast constantly, from early morning till late that night.
Of course there were the occasional afternoon beers at 'Forries' on those exhausting days and the obligatory early morning coffee before the work started on the boat, to get us going.

In the last week of January we awaited the weather window to depart Simonstown and round the Cape of Good Hope for Cape Town to clear customs and be on our way. Finally the weather abaited and at 5AM we cleared the dock and had a glorious day sailing to tie up at 5PM at Royal Cape yacht club.
Who should we knock into, none other than an old compatriot from my home club of Royal Perth Yacht Club, but Jon Sanders - now 77 and doing his 10th solo circumnavigation. We availed ourselves of a couple of cleansing ales with him before dinner and chatted on routes, passage making and his last epic.
The Cape to Rio race fleet was also mustering for their start at sea, and on the day were invited on past commodore Dale Kushners boat to farewell the fleet at sea. From a benign 5kn day at mid-day to the 40kn blustery start by 15.00 the starters must have been beside themselves to get going !

Nearing the end of January, pretty much all was ready and all that was left was to victul the boat with supplies for the trip. So the three of us, one shopping trolley each arrived at Pick & Pay and in 30min were loading the car and on our way to pack the boat.
1st Feb, we left after emotional farewells to Ian & Jules, Neils wife Julie, but again was missing my girls farewell and felt a little lost.
Well 90 days to go.

The sea state out of Cape Town was uncomfortable at best, messy confused and lumpy - this was going to be a long trip !
The sea life to St Helena was plenty and varied. Most mornings we would have flying fish (shoals of 100 or more often scurrying ahead of the boats bow) of various sizes and squid, both dried out by morning on the deck. Sealions, sunfish, dolphins a plenty and birdlife of various sorts.
The passage commonly was a following sea and breeze but lumpy and uncomfortable mostly.
On consideration this trip would follow closely the mid atlantic ridge or volcanic fault line north to the Azores.

Just after crossing the Tropic of Capricorn and on nearing St Helena we were welcomed by the eloquent and aptly named Tropic bird, circling the boat and calling our welcome. Dressed in white, two foot long tail feathers trailed behind and with bright red beak and sporting black glasses looking mask, made a dashing welcome to St Helena....our first landfall.

Napoleon's final home and resting place, volcanic island circumferenced by 400ft high cliffs & the place of the most expensive coffee in the world (apparently, Harrods sells St.Helena coffee for £95/125g packet), rose out of the early morning mist, shrouded in a cloak like blanket allowing only glimpses of the imposing cliffs & vertical walls looming straight out of the ocean. An impregnable fortress that made a spectacular sight, to sip my early morning tea sailing past and reflect.

It was the 13th Feb, passing Ruperts bay on our port side and entering James bay we radioed our arrival, motored to our allocated mooring bouy, not 50m off the imposing cliffs scouling over us. Oooops there's a rock fall, as a section dissolves into the ocean below, leaving only a trail of dust cliffside at the site of its previous home. Maybe we should have requested a mooring further seaward ?

Jamestown is a vibrant, active, jolly little town. Going ashore we radio the ferryman Roy to collect us in his 4m wooden, archaic ex.fishing tender. Getting off at the dockside, diminutive jetty took some expertise and gumtion in the surging swell. As the ferry came alongside you had to stand on the gunwale and time your exit as the vessel rose in the swell past jetty height, then grab one of the 5 ropes on the gantry ashore gently, so you could slide your hand down as the vessel dropped in the outgoing surge, to where you were exactly just above the jetty, then step ashore and let the rope go. Oh, yes and dont forget the garbage bag from the boat in your other hand, to leave ashore.
We hiked one afternoon to Banks battery and Sugarloaf hill, took a day out to hike to The Gates of Choas, The Asses Ears, then passing the masked and brown booby (Gannet) breeding colony with their fluffy encumbent and ungainly looking chicks almost ready to fly, on to Lots Wifes pool (a volcanic fissure) for a swim amongst teeming curios fish , on the southern side of the island.

We visited Napoleon's home and grave site and learnt about the Dutch prisoner that escaped the island in a hand made dingy to sail 2000nm to Brasil.
We also found our way to the world famous St Helena coffee plantation for an energetic tour by the 70 yr old 'energiser bunny' proprietor Bill. He drank far to much coffee !

Ann's Place, the iconic bar, meeting place of all yachties, restaurant and intermittent weak wifi den, with a motley collection of flags, sailing paraffenalia, floats, ropes and cold beer.
Jane that owned and ran the place, with 'ugly as sin' husband, was perfect as a St Helenian born & bred 'Saint', posh almost rasta accent and laid back attitude, couldnt do enough to help everyone and anyone, no matter the problem.

One morning after attempting our gymnastic abilities once more getting ashore, passing the court of St. James and Ancient Order of Foresters no5635 established 1871, whilst on the wsy to our cafiene fix we stumbled into the Governor's secretary, Deb driving Her Majesties royal ensignia, Crown number plates, silver Jaguar and being the only modern non panel beaten vehicle it attracted even more attention at every corner. This seemed to suit Deb's character rather well as we were to find out at our next meeting at the Governor's residence, being told off for being in the Governor's tortoise paddock unauthorised !

We sulked our way to the Castle built 1659 by the United East India Co, enjoyed the craftsmenship of the intricate iron filigree staircase and the dragged ourselves up the 799 steps constructed 1829 to High Knoll Fort, all 602ft above sea level of them !

Johnny the ferry owner excitedly early one morning, advises us that the whale sharks have arrived in a bay down the coast, and for a nominal fee will take us for a dive. A quick change, fins and mask in hand and we are on our way.
There are 4 or 5 whales sauntering on the surface, unperturbed by our presence, lolling slowly about almost curious by us being there.
We dive over amid the 5 whales, fin frantically to keep up with their saunter, when a particular whale decides to circle us inquisitively and then gently touches as she glides effortlessly past.
After nearly 2 hours, exhuberent we sleep smiling that night before we are about to depart for Ascension Island.

20th Feb, having said our goodbyes to friends :-
Ingvar & Saya (German)(mid 70's) 10 years cruising and on their way to Carribean,
Roar & Trudy (Norway)(mid 50's) 6 years cruising on their way back to Norway.
Bernhard & Mike (Belguin)(60's) 20 years sailing & awaiting spare parts,
Laurent & Maree (French)(mid 30's) sailing 2 years & just engaged and sailing to Brasil,
Thomas & Michelle (Danish)(30) lovers & sailing to Carribean.
We collected our prearranged 3 crayfish tails (£5 each !) for lunch at sea, took our last ferry to the boat, and set sail at 1300.

Black as pitch, moonless nights and lumpy seas was, at best our passage to Ascension Island. On the afternoon of 25th Feb we sighted her 70nm off, so shortened sail to slow the boat and ensure our arrival in daylight next morning.
26th at 10am we anchored between Roar & Thomas (fellow yachties), bow in to the bay, pointing directly at the turtle laden track beach just ahead of us. Hundreds of trigger fish swarmed in the turquoise water under the boat, making sure we had set the anchor properly no doubt !

Ascension, a UK & US military communications base was in its remoteness rather sparse obviously. More volcanic and rugged than St Helena, but what it lacked in infrastructure it more than made up for in natural beauty.

Hundreds of turtles that have swum for 3 months from Brasil to nest and lay, then make the return trip back to Brasil, were everywhere. Once the hatchlings dig themselves free, those that survive return to the very same beach in 35 years to repeat the process !
Black Frigate birds patrolled the beachs from up high, scouring for any stray young turtles hatchlings, visible eggs and those exposed by a fresh laying.

Chris Morley (Tree) is leaving us here, and Scott Grubb arrives from the US, so the three of us ambled over to Comfortless Cove for a relaxing swim in the turquiose waters amongst the trigger fish.
We discovered a small cemetry behind the volcanic dunes dating back to 1830 where mostly yellow fever victims had been buried including famous ex-slaver 'Black Jake' and other victims of Bonetta a vessel quarantined from Georgetown during the 1838 epidemic.

We hired a small 'sewing machine' one morning and the four of us squeezed in a drove the island, stopping for lunch/beer half way up the hillside and noticed a large 92ft yacht and tie up astern of us in the bay.
Green lusch mountian, dense and overgrown, wet and tropical and distinctly different from the harsh volcanic scree lower down. By the top of the mountian our little chariot was overheating, visibly spitting water and gunk from under the bonnet edge.........maybe we all need to lose weight !

On returning to the boat we met with Jurgen, Adam, Tony, Jack & Louiss on the brand new, out the box 92ft Reichel Pugh 'All Smoke' yacht ,built in Cape Town and on her maiden delivery voyage to Palma/Mallorca in the med, to race and cruise.
She was just beautiful....all €10M of her !

We saw Chris off on his flight home and Neil, Scott & I sailed from Ascension at 9.45 1st March for the Cabo Verde group, over the equator, in clear sunny light winds and great beam reaching conditions. We were flying again and the boat loved it.
On approach to Ascension I had caught a shark (presumably) that had sheared the steel trace and now fishing again at 1800 hooked into a nice sizable yellow tail about 2 feet long. Sushi is on the menu !

Clear blue skies by day, myriads of stars by night and smooth sailing conditions make for happy times aboard, and looking foward to the momentus occasion of my second offering to neptune as we cross the equator.
Now by day mostly the breeze drops out, and afternoons greet us with rain and wind squalls particularly as the evening settles in, quite the norm as we inch closer to the equatorial zone.
On the 4th March at 16.15 Neptune was toasted with the 'Galatea' triple sec and silly dress ups and frivolity - last time I did this was probably very near this exact location, in the opposite direction & almost 60 years ago, to the day !
I wonder if my G.G.G.G Grandad in 1877 in the employ of the V.O.C. (Dutch East India Co) did the same thing, right here. Heres to Fredrik Willem !

With more frequency now, lightning in the distance and low, dark ominous clouds persist in following us !
Over the next two days conditions build until we are finally caught in the middle of a massive sheet lightning electrical storm, squall and howling winds thrashing the boat from all sides as we sit bare poled (attempting to motor) at its mercy trying to dodge the most intense radar traces of the electrical activity. Rain pours in through the canvas covers overhead and the clears are sheer waterfalls with no visibility.
All our hand held electronics, mobiles, computers and hand held radio, are enveloped in the microwave oven (faraday cage) as the sheet lightning cracks overhead incessantly for what seems like days........and there is only one mast conductor out here 1000km out to sea !

Heading further north we slowly leave the torrid conditions as we are still in the horse latitudes (doldrums) and conditions become benign and boringly, glassy, flat, windless and typical doldrum notorious weather so continue under motor (luckily). I now understand more easily why sailors 'lose their marbles' in the latitudes.
6th March breakfast is disturbed by a pod of Pilot Whales playing in our bow wave, and in particular a mother and her calf that roll 45degrees over and stay to watch us quizzically as interested in us as we are in them. A privilege it was.

Then on my watch at 2am after 6 days of constant motoring only - the motor slowly came to a standstill and died !
We drift for the next 5 hours, but even in daylight...............we have fuel, possibly caught a rope on the prop shaft but after checking this is clear and all seems in order, we cannot fathom the problem.
Fuel lines, linkages are checked, filters cleaned, hoses replaced but still to no avail. Some measures seem to help, but only for a short period when once again the motor dies.

A light beeze wafts across the boat as we set sail tentatively, back under sail lifts our spirit as we inch back on course, but the underlying question over will we be able to charge boat batteries, power the anchor, or have sufficient to operate the radar and navigation equipment ?
The breeze steadily builds, until as we near the Cape Verdes the wind is screaming through the shrouds, gusting to 38knts (68 km/h) and we wont make harbour in Mindelo before nightfall. Navigation charts all showing 'not' to sail the 14 nautical mile Mindelo channel at night for both the marked and 'unmarked' sunk and afloat boat wrecks !
So we make for one of two possible coves on a nearby island of Sao Nicolau to hold up for the night. The first proves unanchorable so we check the second and last only possible option. A tentative reconasance in the cove and we think its our only option. Sheer sided one hundred foot cliffs all around us but only sufficient room for one boat on anchor....its going to be us. Heaven forbid anybody else needs shelter in this storm.

We deploy two heavy duty anchors, dead centre middle of the bay and pay out enough chain (more than normal requirement) and as long as prevailing conditions remain from the north, we have 20m off the stern, a reef !
Not much time if we drag anchor !
That night sitting anchor watch the storm builds to gusts hitting us at over 43knts (77 km/h) screaming down off the cliffs.
Both anchors held nervously and we named this place 'Devils Grotto'.

For two days we waited the storm out in Devils Grotto as it blew itself out and as it slowly dissipated, then made our dash to Mindelo on the third morning...........and a beer to relieve the stress.
18th March at 1800 having heard our radio approach to Mindelo harbour, waiting on the dockside was All Smoke crew, mooring lines in hand with big smiles and warm welcome, knowing what we had waited out over the last two days.

In Mindelo, Jurgen helps us locate the motoring problem being air intake in one of the fuel polishing filters and bypassing the problem. All is well once more in the engineering dept.

Cabo Verde group is a mix of Africa, Brasil and Spain. Great music, discheveled yet clean streets, ingenious and entreuprenial people with a happy and friendly disposition, always ready with a smile.
A volcanic group of islands with vastly differing climatic conditions spread over nearly 180nm.

The modern, polished and well maintained marina, has a floating jetty bar, that serves meals, coffee's, bar and impecable service with wifi facility to boot !
This becomes our central meet point.
Scott & I arrange a local taxi (named DJ) to show us the island (Aus $20) where he imparts a wealth of knowledge on the history, politics, religious beliefs.....takes us up the highest peak to get a 360 degree view over the island, passing stunted corn/maize only 2ft tall (local Cachupa dish is made from), we find a roadside boat building enterprise as has been handed down over the generations, with a boat nearing completion.
Craftsmen of note we thought, all by hand and with no modern conveniences.
We buy a few cowrie shells from entreuprenial kids at the beach and have a feast of fish for lunch with DJ at a beachside hut amongst locals. All three of us, two beers and a coke for DJ, he was driving, for the grand total of $21.00 !
Lastly DJ takes us past the diminuitive international airport with the statue of icon and musical dignitary Cesaria Evora whilst her hauntingly beautiful tracks play in the background setting off a magical day.

Scott & I are to take the ferry the next morning to explore Sao Antao the largest and greenest of the 10 island group, to our NW.
An hour after returning from our DJ trip, now at the marina bar cold beer in hand, when police sirens begin wailing and ambulances screem their way to the adjoining jetty.....the ferry (after disembarking all passengers) happened to get a starboard list, then wobbled over, now wallowing in the mud, resting half submerged......good fortune for us we had not taken it yet !
Another wreck for the channel I assume !

Our weather sked update allerted us to the fact, the next few days only, we had a window of opportunity not normally possible to make initially a NW course, then in a slow arc to NE for possibly 10 days and sail to the Azores (instead of beating our way and constantly taking to the Canaries) and so doubling our distance, let alone this boat does not go to windward !
March 25th, we set sail from Mindelo for the Azores.

As expected the sea state out of Mindelo channel was big, lumpy & messy for all 12nm, then still head to wind and under motor another 20nm to the point of Sao Antao before we could bear away, set sail and get going. It took us the best part of the day to do the 32 mile.

The next 4 days the sea state settled, the boat back on her favorite beam reach, our best daily record was 180nm in 24hrs (av 7.5kn). As we entered the Azores high the breeze died as expected and we were back under motor. By night whilst on watch, I studied the stars and constellations, learnt the Northern groups, Polaris (the Northern navigational star) in the Lesser Bear constellation, Greater Bear, The Virgin with Jupiter, Crow, The Belt of Orion etc amongst others.
The 3rd April on a clear tranquil morning we tied up in Ponto Delgarda on San Miguel.

Portuguese Islands with cobbled sidewalks, alfrescoes on the walls, great meticulous architecture all revered and maintained - its great to be back in a european city !
A few days in port (now keen to get to Gibraltar and finish the trip)awaiting a weather update sked, when our update advises the next two weeks are storms with two local highs off the Portugal coast, will mean no passage East to Gibraltar in the short term !

We decide to fly to Horta on Faial (yachties mecca and home of 'Cafe Sport' where both Joshua Slocum & Sir Francis Chichester happened to have quenched their thirst).
Luckily we snag a room at the Ramada but in the Castle overlooking the marina and bay. Some items have obviously been refurbished, but as close to original made the stay amazing and memorable.
A hop and skip down the foreshore and into Cafe Sport for a small cleansing ale.
Sailing historia overload - crammed into every concievable nook & crevice were sailing paraphenalia and none behind glass. Upstairs an historic scrimshaw (etched whaletooth and bone) family museum of incredible magnitude and history, dating into the 1800's.
Just as crammed are the marina jetties, seawall, and any available surface where as a right of passage, passing yachts over the years have painted their ensignia, colours, ensigns, or a memento whilst in Horta.....a museum in itself.

On the far western point of Faial in 1957 - 58 a volcanic eruption created a new island some 500m off the coast, just seaward of the position of the lighthouse, which became buried to the 3rd story by the volcanic pumice and ash spewed out during the eruption, whilst the keeper of the light remained photographing its growth and activity. This and other volcanic museum pieces, explanations, facts, figures, details and models are now housed onsite in a spectacularly modern and informative museum (underground).

During our explorations of Faial, nearing a mountian peak, on further investigation after making our way through a wet, mossy dank and dripping tunnel to find a caldera and although not considered active currently, the cloud and mist enshrouded looking pools below us create steam that feed the abundant ferns and grasses and stunted bushes in the craters abnormal prehistoric looking ecosystem.

The countless lakes and pools on Faial all volcanic in nature, translucent turquiose make for an almost eerily supernatural looking environment.

We fly back over the new island of Pico (1000 year old baby) with its typical volcanic peak now pushing through the cloud bank and still growing.

On return to the boat in Ponta Delgarda & a few pens before us, we meet 'Bots' a 26yr old Belgian, self confessed one man band and his royal blue, red and yellow hull, burgundy red ochre sails 34ft yacht. At the ripe ol age of 23, with no sailing experience at all he bought his boat and learnt to sail as he went, so he could work (busk) all over the world and fund his travels. Three years on now, his girlfriend Anna (a trapeze artist) is building her own twin masted catamaran so when in port can do trapeze shows between the two masts and earn her living !

After our morning coffee ritual, boat maintenance, sailmakers to collect restitched covers, 10km morning run, or a swim in the ocean pool in the rain one day, we would frequent mostly two great tabernas in Ponta Delgada in Taberna Acor with a great wine selection and very reasonable, and Tasca's that specialse in local fish and seafood (even my favorite Scabardfish).

The weather delay has meant that Scott needs to leave us, and Wally from the U.S. to take his place for the next leg.
Our weather window arrives the day before Wally, so he literally steps off the plane, on the boat and we leave on the 18th April for our final leg to Gibraltar.

Seven days later on the 25th in a fogged in early morning, we enter where the 'Pillars of Hercules' once thought to have stood, South of Nelson's Battle of Trafalgar, between Morocco and Spain near Tarifa, and a few hours later tie up in British territory under the great rock itself !

Hoping G.G.G.G Grandad is proud, and was watching !

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