AFRICA TO THE CARIBBEAN - 1986
THE initial voyage of Sunrise Star was to have been a family affair, that is myself, my brother Brian who had accompanied me to Walvis Bay (Namibia) and would sail as far as the Caribbean, and my father, Sam, who joined us in Windhoek after flying out from the U.K.

However, we "Herricks," while preparing the yacht for sea, put out feelers in Walvis Bay and area for a female crew to join us. I having found from the previous experience that having a member of the fair sex aboard, definitely "up-tones" the whole sail, not to mention general tidiness and personal appearances.

So when German lass Sylvia Schultz, who had been teaching in Walvis Bay, joined us, I was delighted that her presence immediately had the desired effect on our slothful, masculine ways.

Our few sea trials out of Walvis Bay and along the bleak Namib Desert coast showed us that the boat itself, and all systems were shipshape and the crew up to scratch. The Herricks had sailed together before, but Sylvia settled in well right from the start and soon demonstrated her keenness by wanting to do everything - sail changes, watches, galley duties, etc.

Not many yachts leave Walvis Bay each year. Sunrise Star was the first in a long time. On the foggy morning of October 15, 1986, after clearing South African customs, we were ready for the long haul to St. Helena, some 1240 miles to the north west. Gunter Cock, the commodore of the local yacht club, cast off our lines, the Port Captain wished us well, as did the NSRI and tug boats who all hooted. It was quite a send off. To top it all, once we were clear of the port area, a rubber dingy roared up, full of more friends saying goodbye.

Within two days the desert and fogs were behind us and we had picked up the South East trade winds. That was another advantage of leaving from Walvis Bay, as opposed to leaving from the Cape and its vile weather.

After a 11-day passage, seeing St Helena ahead of us was a delight. Sunrise Star, we learned, was the first yacht of the season to arrive, and consequently we were given a grand welcome. It was a treat to dine out at "Anne's Place" again and meet old friends from previous visits to the island.

And, of course, we went to the local dances, where Sylvia was an immediate attraction.

One of the highlights of our stay on this remote little outpost of Britain was the arrival of the HMS Herald, a Royal Naval vessel en route to the Falklands and beyond. We made friends with both officers and crew of the ship, sometimes having a few of them aboard the yacht for supper. The Herald reciprocated in grand style by inviting us for a meal and giving us many provisions.

While on St Helena I left the yacht for a few days to walk around the island, and camped out high above the sea at the southern end - an area called 'Man and Horse'. I never saw either.

Finally, after three weeks on delightful, remote but hospitable St Helena, we reluctantly set sail for Ascension Island, which lies 703 miles north west of St Helena, the passage was swift - seven days - and enjoyable. Again, it appeared, we were the first yacht of the "season", and therefore made doubly welcome. Because the island has a US-operated communications facility on it, visiting yachts are generally only allowed to remain there for 72 hours.

However, because it was a weekend, we were allowed to remain a little longer and enjoy the hospitality of the Americans at the base. One of them even took us for a conducted tour around the island, up and down the hills, past the airport, the radar dishes, the satellite antennas, etc. A supply ship, the 'Maersk Ascension', was in port during our stay, and once again we were invited on board and showered with hospitality and goodies for the boat, right down to the British newspapers flown in that same day.

Soon, all too soon, we were on our way again, Sunrise Star's bows pointed to Port Natal 1247 miles ahead of us. The days flew as we sped along, powered by the warm and steady southeast trades. But, as idyllic as the sailing was, we began to look forward to our next landfall.

It is always exciting to near a new continent. First you start picking up faint radio stations on medium wave. As you approach nearer these stations become clearer and louder. Next you start seeing ships, and land birds. Then one night you see the far-off loom of a city's lights, which at dawn becomes a long, low smudge of land.

All day we crept closer, until at dusk we motored across the bar of the Rio Poenai River, and into the town of Porto Natal in Brazil. Sam left us here to fly home to England.

One of the ways I make "ends meet", or at least try to while cruising, is to trade. On this occasion I had on board a good selection of African curios, destined for the Caribbean. Now, I wanted semi-precious stones. On two previous trips I had bought stones off a street vendor (buying on an inexpensive market) and later sold them for a profit. This time I was determined to find the source of semi-precious stones in Brazil, to cut out the middlemen so to speak, and have a break off the yacht while doing so.

Brazil is very cheap - if one converts cash dollars on the black market. This, of course, is not always true, although I have personally always found it to be so. I also realized on a previous trip that taking whisky to Brazil in the hope of making a quick buck is an unnecessary risk and a waste of time.

Anyway, Natal is safe enough to leave a boat with someone on board, and I flew to Rio de Janiero. I then caught a bus to go and view one of my dreams, the Foz de Igusso waterfalls on the borders of the Argentine, Paraguay and Brazil. These falls are awe-inspiring and magnificent.

I found my semi-precious stones after a three-day bus journey at the Minas Gerais, and after bartering and haggling, eventually bought US $700 worth of cut stones.

Old Year's night at the beach at Porto Natal was something to remember - perhaps a quarter of a million people were there under floodlights and dancing to the blare of music. There was also a magnificent display of fireworks, and on the stroke of midnight, thousands of families ran into the sea - to cleanse themselves, I was told, for another year.

Forteleza, a two-day sail away, is a study of contrasts from Natal. The anchorage is in the bay amongst fishing boats and off the splendour of the Iyat Clube (yacht club), where, surprisingly, a new arrival is given free membership for a week. We stocked up here with excellent cheap and fresh food and provisions.

A week later we headed northwards towards the Iles de Salute group of islands. One of them the notorious Devil's Island. It's a nasty trip because you first have to get though the doldrums with its endless calms and electrical storms, then across the mouth of the Amazon River and north over the equator. The outflow of the mighty Amazon is felt hundreds of miles out to sea where the currents flow roughly parallel to the coast, and the water is a blackish, greenish colour and full of smelly, decaying vegetation.

As we approached French Guyana the water gradually became cleared, although we were still being pushed along by the strong current, sometimes achieving as much as 4 knots.

In the heat haze the three small islands that make up the Iles de Salute, Royale, St Joseph and Isla Diable, are not easy to spot. They lie on the five fathom line, roughly 15 km off the jungle covered mainland. On a previous visit, clearing in was a problem, which involved a ferry trip to the mainland. This time however we were lucky, as there was a navy boat at the anchorage at Royale who cleared us in.

These islands today are a tourist area, and there is a hotel of sorts on Ile Royale. The ruins of the former penal settlement are being cleared up. The other two islands are uninhabited. However, one can easily get to St Joseph by dinghy. The third island, the infamous Devil's Island itself - Ile Diable - is almost unreachable. I say almost, because Brian and I managed to get there in our inflatable tender, which we hauled up onto the rough beach. This island is completely overgrown with jungle and its only inhabitants are a few wild pigs.

We stayed in this fascinating area for two weeks before setting sail for Bridgetown in Barbados. After a six-and-a-half day passage we tied up next to a cruise liner in Bridgetown's deep-water harbour where we waited to be cleared. Barbados is very anti South Africa (1986), and to overcome any possible problems we flew the "red duster". Brian and I were travelling on British passports and Sylvia on a German passport, so we were spared any unpleasantness. We were charged the equivalent of 25 dollars (American) for the dubious privilege of anchoring in the open Carlisle Bay.

Barbados was a turning point for me, and the voyage of Sunrise Star because both Brian and Sylvia deserted us here and flew to the United States.

It was with a particularly heavy heart that I returned from seeing them off at the airport and returned to an empty yacht. It took me three weeks to overcome the feeling of loneliness - three weeks in which I wondered through the crowded streets of Bridgetown.

I might have stayed longer, but the swell in the bay became so uncomfortable that I decided to leave - and hopefully learn the art of "single handing" on the trip to our next destination, Martinique.

I learned a lot about sailing alone on that trip, and a lot more on the subsequent passages to St Croix, St Thomas and the British Virgin Islands, mostly overnight sails. The first thing I learned is that it takes at least twice as long to do anything alone, like reefing, or changing a sail. And I had to learn how to cope with watch keeping versus sleeping - under-canvassing versus over-canvassing, etc.

At the end of April I started east to St Maarten and anchored off the town of Philipsburg in Grand Bay. I had heard that there were a number of South African boats there and I wanted to find them. In Grand Bay I met up with the only other current cruising member of the Walvis Bay Yacht Club, Klaus on "Kalahari". It was also at this time that the carnival - Dutch St Maarten style was held.

The South Africans are based at Snoopy Island, a small, man-made island in a lagoon in the centre of St Maarten which seperates the Dutch and French portions of the island. Access to the lagoon is by a drawbridge from the sea, which opens early morning.

Many of the South Africans work on St Maarten, and for the most part, plan to wait out the annual hurricane season in the protected lagoon. It is all very nostalgic, and there is even a "braaiplek" and a weekend get-together for braais (BBq's).

It was here in St Maarten that I had met up with a Canadian girl who was working on a charter yacht as a "gourmet chef" and who indicated that she would like to sail with me to the Pacific. Accordingly, we arranged to meet in St Thomas in the American Virgin Islands from where we would set off for Panama and beyond in June.

In the meantime, I had to slip the yacht to anti-foul and replace anodes and generally prepare for the long passages ahead. This I did at Nanny Cay on Tortala in the British Virgin Islands. To do so I had to make an appointment a week ahead, and on the given day motor through the narrow reef entrance into the marina.

Everything went like clockwork - Sunrise Star was hauled out on a "tammy lift" and the very efficient staff chocked her and then left me for a week to my own devices.

I anti-fouled the bottom with an American product, Micron 44, which is very expensive at 165 US dollars in total. Another lesson I learned was to buy as much as possible in South Africa, things like paint brushes, sandpaper, masking tape, paint, etc etc. It sounds a bit crazy, but when one considers the difference in prices.

Then back in the water and with Sunrise Star looking pretty and ready for whatever lay ahead, I gave thought to our next adventure.