Speicherstadt

I’m currently in Hamburg and find myself naturally gravitating towards the water, which seems to be everywhere. The city’s success was founded upon trade due to its waterways. It has many canals and around 2500 bridges – more than Amsterdam, Venice and London combined. Access to the North Sea is through the river Elbe. Hamburg is Europe’s 3^rd largest port in volume after Rotterdam and Antwerp despite being 120km from the ocean. Its original free trade zone – the Speicherstadt – was built in 1883 and remains the largest continuous warehouse district in the world and still moves vast amounts of the world’s coffee, cocoa, and spices and interestingly, a third of the worlds Persian carpet production. The red face-brick buildings, built upon thousands of wooden oak piles, is well worth seeing.

But it’s boats and old ships that interest me most and I can’t help but admire the many wooden Jolle’s (dinghy’s) sailing about on Lake Alster. Most seemed to be classic boats and upon closer inspection turned out to be Dragons, a keel boat designed way back in the late 1920’s by the renowned Norwegian boat designer and sailor, Johan Anker.
Their sleek sexy lines, uncluttered deck and large sail plan made me itch for a sail.

“I’d love to sail one of those around the lake,” I thought. And then out of curiosity mailed Micky at RCYC membership to see if we had reciprocity in the area. She mailed me back saying yes indeed and I should make contact with the Norddeutscher Regatta Verein or NRV for short, which I duly did. In no time I found myself being shown around the impressive club by their delegate for International Affairs, Mr. Wolfgang Weber and in typical German efficiency, was racing on a Dragon the following evening.

We had a gentle 10-12kts of breeze and around 30 other identical boats jockeying for the very same start line, which was rather exciting. The racing is close and jovial not unlike our race Wednesdays.

Cityscapes seen from the water always make for the best views and I thought how amazing it is to be in Europe, in summer, and what a privilege it is indeed to be a sailor and be bound by a common love of wind, water and waves no matter where in the world you are.

Norddeutscher Regatta Verein

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Guido Verhovert is no stranger to RCYC or to sailing. In fact, it’s probably easier to talk about the boats he hasn’t sailed on and the races he has yet to do, than to list his impressive CV. From boats such as Highland Fling and Nitro, to crewing on Shosholoza for the 2007 America’s Cup campaign, he has done it all.

His childhood was spent having fun on Hobies in Kraal Bay. ‘Proper’ sailing on big yachts came later and included Corporate Affair and Gumption, (now Griffon), the occasional overseas offshore regatta, such as Cape to Rio, the St Tropez and the Malta race on High Fidelity, followed by Highland Fling and Nitro. Needless to say, he didn’t escape the Cape 31 bug and crewed on baby Nitro and Orion.

Nowadays he can be found on the gorgeous Barefoot with his wife Tracey and the most important crew member, Halo, getting ready to depart on their own Transatlantic journey. Barefoot is a Sovereign 54, that spent 20 years in the Seychelles before being brought back to Richards Bay. From there she was dismantled and shipped to Johannesburg for a refit. Another stint in the Seychelles followed, before Barefoot arrived back in Cape Town in 2018.

After lounging in Granger Bay for a year, her erstwhile owner decided it was time to part company with her. With a cruising adventure in mind Gui had been looking at boats for sale online for years, but nothing really tickled his fancy. Then Rob Sharpe mentioned that he might have a boat for them.  Barefoot was the first boat they went to have a look at and clearly it was love at first sight.

She had however been set up as a day sailing boat and Gui knew that there was a fair bit of work needed to turn her into a cruiser. A nifty bit of negotiation followed and once she was theirs it was time to knuckle down and start on the lengthy list of work that needed to be done. “It took three days to cut everything out and eight months to put everything back in again”, quips Gui.

Barefoot is now a very different boat from the one they bought. It does help that Tracey is very talented when it comes to interior designer and Barefoot has definitely benefited from her expertise. The cabin has been completely redone, with extra windows were cut in and the interior opened up. The water-maker was upgraded, black water tanks fitted, and the all-important washing machine installed. Three solar panels, lithium batteries, inverters and controllers were added.

On the sailing side further changes occurred. “We pulled the mast out and had the cabling redone. Trevor Spilhaus serviced the rig and we put hayracks on the boom, as we will have awnings going down the side to keep the sun off the deck. And then Paul has been busy doing covers for us”, explains Gui.

Barefoot has a wing keel with a 2.4m draft which can make life interesting in shallow waters as Tracey explains. “We were the lighthouse in Kraal Bay this past Christmas. At every low tide we were attached to Africa, as she gently sat down on her keel. It’s not actually that bad, as she is so heavy she doesn’t sway much and it’s on a sandy bottom.

Future plans? “We hope to leave here in the next two to three weeks and head to St Helena. From there we will play it by ear. Either straight through to the Azores or possibly through to Ascension or the Cape Verdes. But the aim is to go to the Azores for a little bit so that the Mediterranean can warm up”, says Gui.  Tracey also has a very long bucket list of stops that she would like to do. Exotic locations such as Morocco, Madeira, Cuba and Norway, glaciers and Southern Lights will most probably also get added into the mix.

Gui continues with the proposed itinerary: “The main aim is to get to Turkey for the Med summer. We will probably go up to Croatia, the Greek Islands and then when we have had enough of that, we will go back out of the Med and do a season in the Bahamas, the Caribbean and down to Cuba.  For the hurricane season we will probably go down to Panama, South America and then through the Panama Canal to the South Pacific.”

“The plan is not to bring the boat back”, explains Tracey. “The plan is to sell her there. We are aiming to move to somewhere in the Med, wherever Gui finds he can live. Well, that’s the plan if we can get off the dock at RCYC.”  Thankfully they are almost there, with departure tentatively schedule for somewhere in the next two weeks.

Gui, Tracey and Halo, we wish you fair winds and following seas. We hope you can set off soon and we look forward to following your travels around the oceans.

Over dinner with friends and charming bottle of red wine, Andre Steenkamp dropped this precious line: “Our story is really about 3 dogs and a cat.” My mind went into a tailspin – I have seen dogs on boats before but a cat? That’s new to me. He quickly corrected my thinking: “Cat with a Capital C. For Catamaran.”

Andre and Beverley Steenkamp, with crew member Herman Schutte, set sail for Brazil on Sea Dancer, a 14m Fontaine Pajot Salina 48 Catamaran, last Friday. The journey will take them up to St Helena and Ascension Island to Northern Brazil where they will cruise the Brazilian coastline.

“We are not on a camping trip – this is our home for the next five to ten years,” says Beverley who considers herself semi-retired. No expense has been spared to make this a comfortable living space, complete with a washing machine, air fryer and slow cooker. The cabins are decorated in bright, welcoming colours and have ample space to move around.

Beverley, a product of Potch Girls High and later WITS, is the logistics brain behind the trip. Years of working at KPMG has made her the perfect crew member for dealing with spreadsheets and costings. Andre admits that there were times before he met Beverley, that he would run out of essentials and food on long trips. Since meeting Beverley, this has never happened again.

Leading up to the trip she carefully tracked their daily use of consumables – everything from toothpaste to dog food – and planned accordingly.  Inventory will be tracked, and if one has to believe Andre, there is also a ‘cost per usage’ track sheet.

Although skipper Andre has Global VP positions for top American tech companies tucked away on his Linkedin profile, onboard he has been assigned chef duties, aside from being the Head of Sailing.

Eating well and enjoying the journey is paramount. Andre was heard saying that “we are not planning on any hardships. We are relying on trade winds to help us along and we are cooking real food.”

The non-electric, thermal slow cooker will be put to good use and butter chicken, beef stews with Cayenne spices, plus pork burritos, are on the menu. With steaks, wors (sausage) and chops safely stowed away, it is clear that a good old braai, or BBQ as Andre calls it, will be a regular occurrence. There is also the added pleasure of 35L of wine and 28 kg of coffee beans safety stashed away. Crew member Herman has been tasked with adding fresh fish to the menu list on a regular basis.

As Commodore of the Catamaran Club Bronkhorstspruit TCC, Herman Schutte has loads of sailing experience and has been sailing since a very young age. This is bucket list stuff for him and will be his first Transatlantic Crossing.  He arrived at RCYC a month ago when he assisted moving Sea Dancer from Durban to Cape Town for this crossing, amidst 40 knot winds and 5m swells. 

All sailors rank safety on board as a priority, but onboard Sea Dancer, safety measures extend to the four-footed crew – two Dachshunds and a Chihuahua. “We battled to find lifejackets in Gauteng for the dogs, and eventually had success in Cape Town,” Beverley explains. “The brand we settled for offers convenient top handles for easy rescue and quick release buckles. It has adjustable chest and neck straps and comes in reflective, bright colour for high visibility.” “Dog overboard” is not something you want to hear anytime soon, so like the humans, the dogs will also be connected to the jackline onboard.

Mia, Jasmin and Pocky (named after a Japanese candy) have been trained the past few months to use the potty patch on the boat, and they certainly add a huge cuteness factor to the crew. “They are our family,” Beverley explains. “We could not even imagine doing the trip without them.” This did however entail a bunch of paperwork and she warns that should you plan to take pets abroad, you need to plan well ahead. Many countries have strict health, quarantine, wildlife, and customs requirements and prohibitions. Check with the embassy and consulate for the country of interest before travel. (If you need any tips on how to make your dogs good little sailors, we recommend this Youtube video 

The Sea Dancer crew will be chasing Sergio and his crew from Kanku Dai who left RCYC for Brazil only days before. Before Kanku Dai’s departure there was a scurry to exchange contact details:

Although communication will be a challenge during the trip, we will provide regular updates as often as possible. Sea Dancer can be followed on: https://forecast.predictwind.com/trackingdisplay/SV_SeaDancer

You will probably have heard by now, that on Saturday the 9^th of October the Royal Cape Yacht Club had one of the most memorable opening cruise events to date. I must say the RCYC team do know how to put on a show, that Gold faced Mask on our Presidents John Levin’s mast was very symbolic indeed. There was a floating art exhibition of many faces and sculptures. It didn’t slip my mind that the many faces spoke of the inherent diversity of art. If it is true that art imitates life and vice versa then Saturday was the proof in the pudding.

Everyone put on quite a show. It’s always encouraging to see how much effort members put in for these events. From team Stardust and crew, to Equinox and many more. It was really exciting to see. The TNPA Port Planning Manager was also here, so was the PA to the Port Manager and the Corporate Affairs Manager. All three of them phoned me the following day, with nothing but praise for our Club and its members. They had a wonderful time on and off the water. As I was giving my impromptu speech on the day, I took a quick glance at the crowd and what I saw was a vision of what we could ultimately be. I saw young children, I saw youth, I saw middle aged men and women, I saw brown people, I saw elderly people, and I saw marina staff standing next to GENCOM members. I saw government officials chatting with ordinary white people, not about politics or the state of the country, but about life and family.

I think you all heard the Commodore speak about our diversity and inclusivity drive. So what does it mean? What is this diversity and inclusion all about? This opening cruise told the whole story. Diversity and inclusion is about celebrating our unique identities. On Saturday we celebrated the Italian culture and its iconic city of Venice. Perhaps next year we will celebrate the Egyptian culture and the great Pyramids. Perhaps the next we celebrate the Afrikaans culture and the Xhosa and Swahili and so forth. We have so much diversity in this beautiful country of ours, yet we know so little about each other.

On Saturday I saw first-hand what it looks like when you create a space for people to meet and get to know each other. I write a lot about the things we still need to do in this club, stuff that we can improve on and get better at. Today I want to simply say, we are exceptional at what we already do. We sure do know how to throw a good party and we sure do know how to make people feel welcome. The collaboration between various departments is seamless and second to none. Our GM is really a “G” when we use slang. Meaning, she is a General indeed.

The food was incredible, three cheers to the chef and his team. One never truly appreciates how well things have to be run, for you to come to a function with so many people present, with so much going on and walk out hassle free. Stellar stuff. At our best we look like we did on Saturday. At our worst, we don’t see why Saturday matters. I will remain an eternal optimist and do everything I can to get the people of this country to know each other, across colour, race, religion, physical ability, sex, gender, youth, class, station or rank. My reasons are simple and they will never change. Diversity is Power. Here I am, a young black man, writing blogs and newsletter articles to a predominantly, white audience, who knew this would also be part of my story, who knew any of you would be interested in what a black man had to say. Yet here we are, joined at hip, trying our utmost to get to know one another and even if we don’t like each other, we at least gain respect for one another. Enough respect to afford us the opportunity to coexist. May our Club grow stronger with each passing year, and may we continue to welcome that which makes us different and see it not as a threat but rather as a strength.

“The word adventure has gotten overused. For me, when everything goes wrong, that’s when adventure starts.” – Yvon Chouinard – pioneering climber and founder of Patagonia.

The possibility of adventure is why we go to sea, because things seldom go exactly according to plan on a sailing boat. Have you ever felt more in-the-moment than when you’re focussed on getting through that difficulty on the water? Or felt more exhilarated than when that tough moment has been well negotiated and the boat and crew are safe again?

Have you ever entered the Knysna Heads?

With little wind the fleet motored to Cape Point. Shortly after rounding the Point the predicted northerly started like someone had switched it on. I reported this on the WhatsApp group.  “What speed?” asked Pete. We don’t have wind speed on Savannah. If it blows my ponytail over my shoulder it’s probably over 15 knots. If it blows the hair-tie away, it’s time to reef.

The sea was uncomfortable for much of the passage. My French speaking crew, Jean Louis and Thomas, were excellent. Both experienced skippers, and both having several Mossel Bay Races between them. I had complete faith in them. Not so my stomach, which occasionally threatened, but didn’t carry out, mutiny. Jean Louis produced home-made soup from the galley and a solution to every problem. Thomas too, brought his experience with good navigation and routing advice.

When the wind filled in, the sailing was good and reefed, we still made good speed. I saw 10.4 knots GPS speed, which I thought was pretty good for a tubby, 40 year old Miura. On his watch, Thomas was trying to surf. For his efforts, he got 11.4 knots over ground and two waves down his neck. I heard his cursing from my bunk. And the words most sailors will have uttered, ‘Never again!’

At midnight I reported that we were nearing our next landmark: Danger Point. The scene of a tragedy rather than an adventure. In 1852,the troop carrier HMS Birkenhead hit an uncharted rock, sinking with the loss of many lives.  The soldiers stood in ranks on deck as she went down, while the women and children took to the life boats. The ‘women and children first’ protocol became known as the Birkenhead Drill. Alone on watch, it was a reminder of the hazards of this coast. A reminder that adventure isn’t always laughed about at the bar afterwards.

Through the night it was two hours on watch, four hours being rolled around in my bunk. We hand steered at night to conserve power, which also served to keep me awake. The light at Quoin Point pitched and yawed off to port. At some point I heard the breathing of dolphins and saw their phantom-grey forms in the liquid black.

I went on deck for my 6am watch. The sky was getting light.  Jean Louis headed to his bunk for some well-deserved rest.  We were rounding Cape St Blaize and there was a breeze. Dolphins joined us once again. I was enjoying the sailing after so much motoring that I kept on the wind rather than motoring into the anchorage. After a while I tacked back towards the breakwater and woke the guys to drop anchor.

As far as Cape Town to Mossel Bay passages go, we had a good one. Cassiopeia on the other hand was having more of an adventure, if we’re to follow Chouinard’s definition. A diversion to Simon’s Town to drop off a sea-sick crew member, some anchor problems, a suspected engine issue that turned out to be a lost propeller blade. And they still kept on, in spite of the strengthening wind, determined to join the rest of the fleet. Geoff and his crew were far and away the most determined and tenacious of the fleet and quite an inspiration.

I think we could call the entrance into the Knysna Heads an adventure. The videos tell the story better than my words can. Faros surfing like a J-Bay pro. Lexi spinning the wheel like Lewis Hamilton. Vixen losing one of its engines. Me, dry-mouthed and adrenaline-soaked with my eyes fixed on the transit markers that led us in.

The pay-off was the cold beer and warm hospitality we received from  Commodore Jakes and the members of the Knysna Yacht Club. A friendly club in one of the most beautiful locations in the country.

We all have our reasons for going to sea. The possibility of adventure is always lurking in the recesses of our minds, even if we don’t always admit it. There are few better ways to feel completely alive.

Bring on the Knysna Rally 2022!

Thanks to Pete for his vision and leadership in organising the Rally and to Kerry and Hilary for their hard work in making sure that it offers something for everyone.

Guilty as charged I’m afraid. Not only have I gone over to the dark side, but it was beginning to look as if I might just be staying there. You see I was simply having too much fun! Not having to hike over the side and submerge oneself in the freezing Atlantic does indeed have its perks! I was ever so slowly falling in love with the uniqueness of racing a cat. Then I decided to help sail her back from Kraal Bay to Cape Town….

Now this is a trip I have done a couple of times before, delivering my lesson boat – that lovely Cape 31 back to RCYC after races. It is a beautiful sail and probably my favourite delivery route. Sails up, heading 180 degrees magnetic, watch out for whales, laugh at the antics of the dolphins, eat lots of chocolate and before you know it you have left Dassen and Robben Island to starboard and the mountain calls you home.  As easy as it is delightful.

With an early start I was invited to spend the night aboard Amarula. This in itself was probably worth far more than the actual sail back. Simply put, I have never slept on a boat before. Well, not unless you count a trip on a mail ship to the USA at age 6 months. It was something I had always wanted to experience and on a Cape 31 it wasn’t going to happen for obvious reasons. No, sleeping with the deck centimetres above your head squashed in between the engine and the hull does not count in my books. I wanted to be in a bunk, gently rocking at anchor. Not too much to ask was it?

The journey started with a trip up to the West Coast National Park. On arrival we were informed that yes, we may go to Kraal Bay, but no, we must sit in our car and not exit to the beach. Mmmm, not going to happen, sorry, but we diligently nodded our heads in agreement. Arriving at the beach, we find not just one lonely ranger, but at least four or five of them in attendance. Watching our every move as gear, food and drink pour out of the boot. Still they merely observe, that is until we start on the path down to the beach.

Thankfully for us Skipper was already on his way in the Rib and hence the rangers answered their own question. “Going to the house boats, are you?” While “yes” was not technically correct, it seemed the more prudent answer and thus we fully agreed. Loaded up, hopped in the rib and off we set. A lazy afternoon chatting and reading ensued, before drinks on a neighbouring boat and the obligatory braai rounded off the day. Time for bed.

For the record, I loved sleeping on the water. Also for the record, while I often have to do it for deliveries, I am so not a morning person and these early departures are not my favourite. Still, when the engines switched on at 5am, the coffee machine simultaneously started producing wonderous cups of freshly ground coffee and all was forgiven. Coffee down the hatch and by 5.30am we were underway. There is something magical about the first light of day, the changing of the deep purple sky to a pink and finally to a deep burnt orange as the first rays lit up the water.

Ohana, a fellow cat, was returning with us and I managed to snap a memorable photo of her silhouetted next to the rising sun. The wind was light, the lagoon glassy and with Lisa steering we had time to admire the boats dotted around. All too soon Jutten Island appeared and with it the wind and the swells. Now the forecast was a Southerly changing to a South Easter during the day. I knew we were going to sail into a headwind all the way home, but still, how bad could it be?

Breakfast of scrambled egg with chorizo, (thank you Kevin!), was amazing. I just wished I had eaten it 30 min earlier, when we were not bouncing up and down. Hanging on to your plate, whilst it is trying to leap off the table, doesn’t make for a leisurely breakfast. A lumpy sea was expected as we passed Jutten and headed out in to the open, but what I hadn’t quite expected, was that it would last pretty much all the way to Dassen and beyond.

Cats may not heel and mostly you don’t get wet, but they have the rocking horse motion perfected to a fine art. And just for fun, if the sea is obliging, they somehow manage to rock forwards and backwards, and from side to side all at the same time. Rather like a bucking horse, adding a corkscrew manoeuvre every now and again. Horses stop this nonsense quickly though, cats in lumpy seas, do not.  To add insult to injury the 15 plus knots were positively arctic, which meant despite several layers and polar fleece lined jacket, I was pretty much frozen the entire time.

On the plus side we had Cape Town Radio on channel 16 as entertainment. Trust me, there is much merit to be had in listening in when you are out near the West Coast. It wasn’t long before we had the delightful battle of wits between the Daniela Melissa and the polite (mostly) voice of Cape Town Radio. It began with a radio call to Daniela Melissa. I was intrigued as it is an unusually pretty name for a commercial vessel. Could it be a yacht, I wondered? Whatever it was though, she wasn’t responding. Several fruitless calls later, the radio man decided to get hold of a ship in her vicinity. “Daniela Melissa is about two miles north of you, please can you call the captain and get him to call us.”

Magically Daniela Melissa surfaces and calls in, only to be told that she must immediately lift her anchor and depart from St Helena Bay as she may under no circumstances anchor there. So far pretty routine and then the fun started. For about five hours we listened to every excuse in the book as to why the Daniela Melissa could not move. They were waiting for stores, then the engine had a problem, then it was working but would not reach Cape Town. No they didn’t have an agent in South Africa. On and on it went. Eventually it was decided that an email would be sent to the captain. Have you ever heard a very long email address spelt out phonetically over the radio without static and loss of transmission? Neither have we. Needless to say, by the time we reached Robben Island some 10 hours later, the Daniela Melissa was still in St Helena Bay.

Whilst the battle of ‘will she, won’t she’ was being played out, we were still rocking on the waves. Skipper had decided early on that auto pilot was the least tiring given the sea state, which meant we could rock to some music while watching out for whales and crayfish pots. If you have never heard of the Tedeschi Trucks Band, don’t feel alone, neither had I. But you should. It is a delightful mixture of country/blues/jazz that even had the whales come up close and personal to listen. At least that’s what I was telling myself the two Southern Right Whales to starboard were doing, as they accompanied us almost within touching distance.

Leaving Dassen and Robben Island to port meant we had a perfect forty degree relative wind angle, but we also encountered long lines of crayfish pots, which meant a lengthy detour and the ominous wind shadow of Table Mountain. We sailed in a variety of winds coming from at least three or four different directions and at speeds from three to twenty knots. It kept me busy on my starboard winch as we tacked for crayfish pots, whales, and changes in wind. Eventually the wind was so confused that after furling and unfurling the genoa twice as our speed yo-yoed, skipper gave up and we dropped the main and motored in.

Seventy nautical miles and eleven hours later we were home. It was long, bumpy and cold. It was also entertaining, thrilling and an experience I will never forget.  The ocean outside of the bay is an unpredictable, yet magical place and I simply cannot get enough of it. Cat delivery anyone? PS the Daniela Melissa turned out to be a bunkering tanker, currently anchored off Laaiplek. I wonder how that conversation is going?

The passage from Cape Town to Knysna can be tricky, not least because sailors have to round two of the most infamous capes in the world. There were a few old salts muttering cautionary tales around the bar when the Knysna Rally was first mooted. Notably those who’d been in crews racing in the various iterations of the Mossel Bay Race. In fact, I did once hear Pete Sherlock, that veteran of the Mozambique Channel, say that sometimes it feels like the Indian Ocean is trying to kill you.

In true cruising style the crews taking part in the Knysna Rally 2020 sat down for a leisurely breakfast before casting off for Knysna. The Magnificent Seven consisted of Amarula (Pete Sherlock), Equinox (Yannick Berlion), Strumpet (Justin Spreckly), Set Sea (Greg Davis), Ielool (Johan Erasmus),  Malu’lani (Grant Saunders) and Vixen (Ian Munro).

The wind from the South  made for a long motor to Cape Point.  Ielool decided that an attempt at sailing would help stabilise the boat in a very uncomfortable sea. This ended up costing them several hours on the rest of the fleet and put them in some of the strongest winds later on in the passage.

As the voyage continued the winds increased. Off Agulhas vessels eventually experienced wind speeds in the high 30 knots. Yannick told me that at one point he saw a gust of 50knots. The swell was big, and breaking. Ielool had a wave break into the cockpit. The other vessels all had waves over the deck during the blow.

1021 John Roos reports: “News from Ielool: 25 knot SW wind gusting 22-plus. Big following seas. 4m swells, occasionally bigger. Just had a swell break over the stern into the cockpit. Top downhill surf speed on GPS 15.267 knots… Almost due south of Agulhas. Regards to all from Ielool crew.”

At 1819 Greg Davis on Set Sea reported breaking a dagger-board and then snapping a steering cable while struggling to keep the boat “tracking straightish”.

Greg’s daughter, Greta, writing about the passage says: “None of us knew what we were doing except Greg who luckily has enough knowledge for all of us. But even so, considering how many things we broke I got the feeling somebody was trying to slow us down so that we didn’t hit the storm of a lifetime as we reached The Heads. Needless to say, that person wasn’t Greg. It was the best day of our lives followed by the worst day of our lives. And a very dramatic night, dodging fishing trawlers with no navigation lights off Agulhas, followed by a much more comfortable complimentary treat of a night spent in the Protea Hotel in Mossel Bay – much needed, especially for Greg who hadn’t slept at all since leaving Royal Cape 36 hours before.”

Meanwhile, Malu’lani had some problems of its own. Grant Saunders replies “Hi Greg, we had to change the water impeller in 36 knots and big seas just completed the job now guys we are 53 miles from Mossel bay doing 8 to 10 knots should be there around 1 o’clock see you there”

1651 Strumpet: “30 miles from Mossel bay. 35kts. Wet, fun and fast 20kn top speed so far. Going to moor there tonight. Knysna in the morning.”

1934 Equinox: “All well, 3 reefs in the main and reefed jib”

2004 from Grant “Malu’lani crew finally eaten all staying on watch till we get to Mossel bay wind gusting to 39 and still big seas our spirits are high and the boat is going well see you guys soon.”

From Ian Munro at 2023: “Vixen 15nm from the point. Under reefed jib. Beers will be sweet tonight.”

Finally from Mossel Bay at 2100: “Equinox is safely anchored in the bay. What a ride!!”

For some crews the stopover at Mossel Bay provided not only a good meal and rest but time to let off a bit of steam. Reliable sources tell us that one crew enjoyed practicing Man Overboard drills in a fountain.

The entrance to The Heads is notorious. Strong tides, two bars to cross and if there’s a swell running, waves breaking across the entrance. The fleet waited in Mossel Bay for the swell kicked up by the big westerly to abate. And for the next rising tide.

The day before the fleet was due to enter lagoon, Vitor WhatsApps a photo of the Heads: “Still breaking right across.”

“After yesterday it looks easy” replies Pete.

“After yesterday, anything is easy” writes Yannick.

Meanwhile, from Mossel Bay, Johan sends a picture of a sweating bottle of fizz, “Rounding Cape Agulhas was a first for Ielool’s crew. I promised bubbles on rounding, but under conditions it simply was not sensible. So here we are, bubbles with breakfast on arrival in MB”

At 2104 Pete messages: “Fleet is on the move! Strumpet and Set Sea are leaving in the morning. Ielool, Malulani, Equinox, Vixen and Amarula are leaving now for a first light try at the heads”.

It’s forty-odd miles from Mossel Bay to the entrance to the lagoon. The fleet planned to enter the Heads at first light. The first WhatsApp message is from Yannick:

0434  “Equinox is here, we are circling waiting for daylight…”

Photographs by Ashleigh de Villiers and others tell the story. This is a dramatic and potentially dangerous entrance. The waves were still breaking on the Eastern Head side of the entrance. With the help of a local guide to pilot the fleet through the Heads, all vessels made it safely across the bar and headed to the Knysna Yacht Club to tie up.

On passing through the Heads, Pete tells me, “It wasn’t as bad as it felt at the time.” Is it ever!

I’m told, “What happened in Knysna, stays in Knysna”, so I’m assuming the partying was epic. One boat had to recycle eight empty brandy bottles. And if you’ve heard of a pavement pizza, you should know that there is such a thing as a gunnel pizza. The less we know about that the better.

I’ll let the Commodore have the final word. Neil Gregory, after experiencing the cruiser-style catering on Amarula, complete with freshly ground coffee every morning, was heard to say:  “No more racing! I’m sold, cruising’s the way to go”

Here’s to the Knysna Rally 2021.

58 Boulevarde de la Croisette | Cannes, France | 21 June 2019

The sun was blisteringly hot.  My skin seemed to crawl wherever it hit me.  My forehead was covered in beads of perspiration and I felt totally overdressed in my collared short shirt, Lululemon “weekender” shorts and my faithful Lalizas docksiders.  I shuffled my chair further under the parasol, making sure I was totally unexposed to the sun.  The waiter appeared with another bottle of Minuty Rosé, chilled to perfection and dressed so perfectly on the silver tray it seemed art directed.  With a flourish it was opened and our glasses were replenished, the cool liquid somehow inspiring energy in an otherwise heat soaked lazy environment.

There were six of us seated at two tables pushed together along with their adjacent parasols.  The tables were hardly anything special, a shiny brown/beige surface with faux cane legs curling beneath them.  We sat on matching chairs, each one perfect in appearance but also plastic.  It certainly looked good, and the terrace was very busy, as it was every afternoon.  I looked around, our conversation was no distraction for the hubbub of humanity around me.

There was no one prevalent accent or language, each colloquy fighting with the one alongside it to be heard, for it must be more important.  French, English, American, Australian, Italian and a scatter of Scandinavian tongues were all wagging at the same time, each one totally comfortable with its own personal consequence.  The bodies were all made for (or by?) TV, browned by the sun, toned, exposed, pushed up and out and often helped in reach by clever miniscule pieces of clothing or a skilled surgeon’s hand.  More it seems rather than less, was the order of the day here.

Don’t get me wrong, there was plenty to look at and appreciate.  It just all seemed a little intrusive, surprising, a little like that ad that pops up in the middle of your YouTube watch, completely uninvited and quite frankly an unwanted intrusion into your concentration.  The waiter was back with our food.  He placed a small offering in front of me, a gourmet burger.  The menu had promised a “Hamburger pur boeuf, tomate, salade, cornichon malosol, sauce burger” and at 42 Euros I must be honest I was expecting something a little more curated and sizey.  French fries were now being whisked from the tray and dotted throughout the table in some kind of enchanting dance, heralding their appearance.  I drowned my disappointment with another sip of the delicious Minuty.

The sea always has its own aroma, a mixture of itself and what it holds in suspension, each piece of coral or seaweed adding an imperceptible flavour making the essence colloquial. No two oceans or even adjacent seas issue the same response to your olfactory system and there are some who say that a seasoned sailor can tell you where they are just by smelling the ocean.

As I looked over the terrace, across the Croisettte with its ever-snaking trail of humans ambling along it and past the Marquess and installations that dotted the private beaches, I could see the ocean.  It seemed resentful and crowded. Over designed and over length yachts placed haphazardly, floated on its dirty blue surface, helicopters flipped back and forth between the yachts and the port, skimming the black haze that lay a few hundred feet up.  The beaches although clean were cordoned and reserved. Each block covered in sun loungers and micro bikinis, cocktails and plateau de sandwich, coconut flavoured sunblock imbued with fake shimmer and cigarettes.  So many cigarettes.

I gathered myself and tried to concentrate on the business meeting at hand.  Skip (my business partner) was sitting to my left and was looking for some assurance from me.  Our clients sat across from us, even more uncomfortable and unused to the heat than us.  Their upright body language and Scholl sandals did little to hide their Germanic essence.  My head nod seemed to do the trick and I retreated back inside myself again as quickly as I could.

I could feel Adéle pull at my sleeve.  I knew what was coming as I turned to find out why.  I could see it in her eyes.  I needed to abandon my melancholy.  For here I was sitting on the Carlton Terrace, perhaps one of the most in vogue places a human could be present at.  The terrace was the social hub of Cannes and we were here to attend the Film Festival.

We had flown out of Nosy Be a few days ago and into Cannes for a business hiatus I could not avoid.  We had walked out of the jet in Nice, shrugging off Island time and ancient circadian rhythms and entered a world of bright lights and beautiful people, of brands and products, overindulgence and partying, late nights and even later mornings.  It was a privilege to attend and be a part of this roadshow, a time when all in our industry celebrate, congratulate and network.  We were there to support our clients and attract future business.

But instead all I could think about was our last evening in Russian Bay, before we sailed back to the Marina and got in a tuk tuk to go to the airport.  I think perhaps Russian Bay is one of my most favourite places on this planet.  We were anchored about two hundred metres offshore of Andrés place.  It was completely wind still, the water appearing like a solid sheet of brushed steel, reflecting the blue sky, the three boats at anchor appeared to be trapped as they lay stationary.  Even the monohull was for once immobile.  The sky was endless and dark blue, with a short swathe of high level cirrus, looking like a harras of Camargue horses, manes and tails aflutter as they gracefully galloped towards the sunset.

The cloud sat above the hills and horizon, muting the sun as it dropped.  The resultant ambient turned the bright tropical colours into pastels, soft and glowing, drawn in broad strokes through the jungle and palms down to the beach.  The sand lay unbroken, not a footstep marking its soft beige texture.  The waterline ebbed and flowed in long, slow pulses, hardly making a noise as the water slipped over the sand dancing to a long love song.  There was a dhow pulled up on the beach, sitting on the highwater mark, full of character and untold stories of simpler times and honest labour.  The solid lines of planking running its length were patched haphazardly in places, with anything from car tyre to plastic pallet filling the holes uncomfortably and inconsistently.

Russian Bay is sublime at sunset

I was standing alone at this moment. Alone except for the vista that lay before me, the colour and vision feeding my soul, the Three Horses Beer (they only come in quarts) satiating my thirst.  Leaning on the helm station my sight savoured the sailboat that brought me here, she showed her scars but looked shiny and bright, she exuded a happiness that was impossibly contagious.

I could not wait to shake off Cannes and return to the wild.