Réunion to South Africa

Réunion to South Africa. (Featuring Karl's second mahi mahi)

Tuesday 29^th October, 250 miles southwest of Madagascar, 9^th wedding anniversary.

Well this is an interesting way to spend an anniversary. Definitely not covered in the vows. Today is grey and windy, the first time we've had 25-30 knots of wind since the east coast of Queensland, so we've cosied up in the cockpit after lunch with fruitcake, a wee drop of rum and Nirvana Unplugged (it matches the weather somehow). Not bad at all.

We left Réunion a week ago after a reasonably protracted period of trying to decide when to leave. This leg is a bit tricky weather-wise and picking the right departure opportunity is important. Weather in this neck of the woods is no longer under the influence of the wonderfully consistent and predictable trade winds we've had so far. Down south one low pressure system after another come marching through, West to East, bringing varying degrees of nastiness to the South African coastal waters. Then there's one of the world's strongest currents which flows in the opposite direction to the nastiest of the winds bringing things like FREAK WAVES and DISAPPEARING SHIPS. Best not to do too much Googling on this topic (to those of you who are highly strung, fear not, if you're reading this we made it through ok). 

Making sure our storm sails were in working order, just in case.

A South African sailor who generously offers weather updates and local knowledge to any sailors in the area advised us to take a different route, helpfully commenting that the chances of coming through “unscathed” were low. So we freaked out a little and wondered if we were mad and should be changing our minds. Then we spoke with other boats planning the same route (and who'd had the same warning) and we all decided that we weren't mad after all and we would all BE JUST FINE. Meteorology became an obsession though. There were Dutch, Finnish, Estonian, Canadian and Spanish boats all doing the same fortune-telling and magical thinking about departure dates. Karl and I took the very scientific approach of deciding we'd leave after the Rugby World Cup quarter final weekend (the end of the line for Ireland and Australia anyway as it turned out) and, happily, the weather looked good for a Tuesday departure. Well, we thought so. Our South African expert only said “it's in the lap of the Gods now”.

Rugby and cheese take priority.

On Monday we had a last lunch (last chance for a creole style rougail sausisse) at our local with the Canadian, Finns and Estonians. We confirmed it was definitely our “local” when our usual waitress was the only person (apart from Nigel Wight) to comment on Karl's freshly blackened hair. Monday evening the crews of Gráinne, Sissi and Kristina Regina had a final weather conference on board Sissi and agreed to give each other daily position and condition updates while underway, even though we knew we would all be JUST FINE. We got back to Gráinne to find that the Tim Tam fairy had left a packet of dark chocolate ones for us, clearly a good omen. The next morning the Gods were obviously looking out for us as we left, positioning the Estonians (Kristina Regina) on our dock to help cast off the lines and when we got down to the fuel dock to refill the Finns (Sissi) were coincidentally checking it out and were able to help with our lines there [Karl comment: in a tricky breeze gusting 30kn with other boats at the dock]. Then away again towards Africa!

A pleasant harbour makes it so much harder to leave.

There's definitely been more actual sailing on this passage. We've been spoiled up to now with trade winds that really only change in their strength but now we've got different weather systems coming through, the wind changes in strength and direction (the cheek) and there are currents swirling all over the place. We've had sails up and sails down and the pole out and the pole back in and tacking and gybing and even motoring (I know, us, actually motoring) and the whole shebang. It's hard work! 

Our first attempt at wing-on-wing (headsail poled out on one side and main out on the other).

Motoring through a calm.

Having heeled in one direction pretty much the entire trip the galley now sometimes leans the other way – it's very disorienting, like arriving home and finding your kitchen has become its mirror image. There are lots and lots and lots of ships around too. Brasil, Africa and Singapore seem to be popular destinations. Some great names too: “Angelic Power”, “Nave Photon”, “Birdie” (a massive 1000 ft tanker) and today we had the tankers “Antigone” and “Amphitrite” pass us at the same time. 

Karl shipspotting.

The days are getting longer with lovely bright evenings and we've had a few stunning red sunrises and sunsets to rival Darwin as we've approached Madagascar. So, what's Karl been up to you ask? Here's an extract from his diary: “Just read in Sextant by David Barrie that the polynesian navigators would stand on deck to feel the sway of the waves by way of their swinging testicles when they couldn't see the swell. I just tried it in the aptly named cockpit, but found my instrument to be insufficiently tuned for the proposed sensation”. Thankfully no photographic evidence exists.

Karl (when not swinging his testicles) patches another tiny hole in the main.

One of our pilot guides warns that on this passage “few escape a gale south of Madagascar”. So this blow we're having today is probably our statistical heavy weather. 

Thankfully it's not bad at all, although it has caused a ripple of excitement through the fleet with the word “storm” being tossed out. It's been interesting to be in touch with the other boats and feeling like we're not completely alone out here but a bit discouraging to see how quickly they're catching us having left Réunion later. God love Gráinne, it's a good job she's comfortable 'cause she's not setting any speed records (apart from Personal Bests which look like being set today). 

Does this sky mean a storm is coming?

As well as the weather forecasts we get by satellite phone we've had Ben Masters on Shorebased Ocean Current Monitoring duty (we have good wind and wave data but were too stingy to pay for the currents). And there's lots of swirly currents around.

He's guided us around what we've named in his honour the Great Ben Masters Gyre which has helped with the PB record attempt.

On the chartplotter.

And in real life.

So fingers crossed tonight's galley conditions allow for an appropriately indulgent anniversary dinner.

Thursday 31^st October, 250 miles East of South Africa. Halloween and Monster Mahi-mahi Day.

Karl decided to try fishing today for the first time in ages (actually maybe the first time since the last mahi mahi) so there we were nicely settled in with our coffee and morning podcasts when I noticed the old splash and flash of yellow. 

Terrible timing. Still, Karl was enthusiastic and set to hauling it in. And what a monster! Epic proportions. 

From what I saw on deck afterwards Karl needs to refine his quick and clean murdering technique – this appeared a little more Tarantinoesque. 

At least he fillets it on deck and not in my galley.

And now I have the challenge of coming up with a million fish recipes, I think it's going to be a bit like the Christmas turkey by the time we get through it.

Saturday 2^nd November, Richards Bay, South Africa.

We made it!!! Just over 6 months after leaving Mooloolaba. Africa. A brand new continent for us (actually our last new continent, not sure how I feel about that).

Not all plain sailing by any means. Richards Bay greeted us this morning with 25 to 30 knot winds gusting to 35 knots as we attempted to enter the harbour. When I got up from my brief after-watch nap Karl announced “we might not be able to go in!”( in fairness he'd had 40 knots [Karl says 40 plus] while I was snoozing). Hmmm, I thought, we're going in. As we entered we heard a proper big ship ask Port Control about conditions and seeking to clarify, seemingly incredulously, that there had been 40 knots inside the harbour – so we're not being over-dramatic. 

So despite the grey, blustery welcome we did get in to the harbour in one piece but then had problems trying to find somewhere to dock at the “International Dock” to complete formalities. It took three attempts and two changings of all the lines and fenders to the opposite side (my job) before we finally got in. The crew of a fabulous big old schooner beside us kindly helped with our lines.

Our meandering track into the dock. And out. And back in.

To celebrate our arrival we cracked open Damo's rum.

It took us so long that the immigration official was already waiting for us (she may have given us up for lost at that point) and shortly afterwards the police completed their formalities. Then (apart from a visit to customs tomorrow) we were free to roam. Now, what do you think is right next to the International Dock? The bar where all the locals come to watch the Rubgy World Cup final! 

Karl raises the flag. Note the conveniently located bar in the background.

We grabbed a table with the schooner crew and settled in for the match. What an atmosphere. I think it's the first time I've been in a country that won a thing. There was cheering and singing and all the usual stuff you'd expect. Fabulous.

And now it's time to relax (a.k.a. try to stay awake until a reasonable hour). Sissi have just arrived and while waiting to catch their lines we met a Mexican sailor and got to do the switcheroo from French to Spanish (which almost broke my sleep deprived brain). Kristina Regina is due in later this evening. See? - we weren't mad after all! It all worked out. We're all JUST FINE.

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