19 November 2010
At 2am the change came. Donald was on watch and I heard him speaking with Cat on Basia. The wind was now in the northwest and blowing up to thirty knots on the nose. Our weather window had closed and we still had 68nm to go. We had reached the Cape at 06.30 the previous evening, the wind, a gentle five knots from the east, a one knot of current still in our favour. We had at last left the Indian Ocean behind and were motoring hard in a north westerly direction. It marked the beginning of our third Atlantic crossing. I saw a Salvin's albatross, its' beautiful wide wingspan just skimming the surface of a very benign ocean, and hoped that it was a sign of good fortune for us. Flocks of gannets flew in formation. It was all so lovely and peaceful. We had no idea of what was to come. At 20.22 I recorded in the ship's log a wind speed of 1.7 knots true. The ocean was calm. We had then less than 100nm to go. Now four hours later opposite Danger Point, our night watches abandoned, Voyageur was crashing up and down in the building seas. We missed breakfast. Conditions were too uncomfortable below so we munched on apples and digestive biscuits. We are now completely out of bananas....
Now we are two.....
Now we are two, just us and Basia who are fifteen miles ahead. For a while during the night we could see the lights of Crazy Horse and as dawn came they tacked ahead of us but then suddenly fell behind. We did not see or hear from them again. We heard later that their engine had kept cutting out and that they pulled in to Simon's Town. We tacked back and forth, back and forth across the wide expanse of Walker and Sandown bay making very little headway as each tack was 120 degrees into the furious wind. Just when you think it can't get any worse it does. Approaching Cape Hangklip the wind blew with such ferocity that the clutch on the mainsail outhaul gave up and the sail bellied. The strain was just too much for it. David rigged up an emergency line to prevent it happening again but after that we never really did get the sail shape right. Unable to sheet it in hard enough we could not get the necessary drive through the water. We plugged on and on across the open water of Valsbaai, waves continuously crashing over the boat, the prop now regularly cavitating in the rough three metre swell. We listened as Rescue 10 went to assistance of another yacht, not a WARC yacht, whose engine had seized. We had thought very seriously of pulling into Simon's Town situated deep into the east side of Valsbaai but the trip would have been almost as long as the trip to Hout Bay and with a north westerly the wind direction just as difficult. We decided to carry on. Cat reassured us that the swell was less having already rounded the Cape. What an uphill struggle it was though, punching into two to three metre waves and strong headwinds. All the forecasts had said winds of 10 to 20 knots and we were experiencing winds of 30 to 40 knots with gusts significantly higher. How could they all get it so wrong? Voyageur was now going at a snail's pace her speed sometimes less than two knots as she ploughed her way into the halting chop. The final straw was a counter current of one knot against us as we arrived off Cape Point. Now Donald was heard to say "Oh dear"! My heart sank, for to hear him say that with all his sailing experience it was a trifle worrying. But I kept telling myself I was in safe hands. I had two good skippers aboard and Voyageur. I knew none of them would let us down. From afar The Cape of Good Hope looked foreboding, high mountains in a grey haze and looking not unlike pictures I have seen of Cape Horn! Looking seawards there was the most extraordinary cloud formation. A thick band of cloud with a very sharp outline was plastered across a deep blue sky. We had never witnessed such an extraordinary cloud formation. Tacking back and forth we clawed our way along the Cape. It was wild and beautiful, white sand beaches broken by rugged cliffs mountainous ranges rising steeply behind. A tanker came up from astern ploughing its way close into the shore so we did the same hoping for less swell in the shallower water. It worked quite well, Voyageur's motion now more like a rocking horse, less of a prancing hobby horse. Cat had sent us an email giving five very good waypoints for our entry into Hout Bay. They had arrived at four thirty in the afternoon. As night drew in, for the first time I donned my foul weather gear to keep out the cold. At least now I was able to serve up an evening meal even if it was only out of a tin. As we made our approach into horseshoe shaped Hout Bay the rain came on. Honestly, what more could be thrown at us! Basia switched on their navigation lights and guided us in by torchlight, taking our lines. I cast my eye around Voyageur's cabin. It was a mess. Certainly she needed some tidying up and TLC. The animals looked the worse for wear. Max's eyes were glazed, Little Ted had shrunk into his basket, Turkish Ted was comatose and Skipper Ted had keeled right over! We had an 'anchor dram' as Donald called it. Not that we needed it to help us sleep for we were all totally exhausted. It had taken twenty long and laborious hours to cover the final sixty eight miles but we were here, safe and sound and securely tied up. Now at last we can have the recovery time that we so badly need. Goodnight - zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
Susan Mackay