COCOS KEELING TO SOUTH AFRICA
(Across the Indian Ocean)

BACK TO AFRICA.


It had been blowing pretty hard since I had set sail from Cocos Keeling three days ago. But even though I was making good progress, somehow I just couldn't get into the voyage - probably because I had been suffering terrific stomach pains, which I could only put down to my ulcer re-occurring. All the hassles repairing "Sunrise Star" while in Cocos Keeling - and the cheap beers! - had obviously aggravated the ulcer.

Things weren't going too well. The night before I had deliberately overdosed myself with ulcer tabs - couldn't eat anything as I was seasick too - and then had banged my head pretty badly on the cockpit entrance just to add to my discomfort! Stupidly, in Cocos I had also started smoking again - yesterday however I chucked the remaining ones over the side. So I had withdrawal symptoms as well...

The weather had been rough and uncomfortable. Vicious rain squalls would come and go, and every time one hit me, the wind increased to such and extent that the Aries just couldn't hold the yacht down. Within seconds she would heave into the wind and seas, and I would have to rush out of the cabin to disconnect the Aries and fight to get back onto some sort of course again. This was lousy work in the sopping wet, pitch dark spray and rain lashed night.

After an hour or so it would moderate again and I would go below to dry off and try and sleep - only to have to repeat the performance with the next squall! By 3am I had had enough. The waves were huge- the wind now Force 5-6 and I put up the storm jib, in itself a battle with waves crashing over the bow, re-connected the windvane but with very loose control lines, and tried to sleep. Damp bunk, damp pillows. Damp me!!

To add to my woes, while boiling water for morning tea I broke the handle off the kettle and had to wedge the pot on the stove to prevent if from sliding all over the place. It was easier to drink and alcoholic free beer instead. Before I left I bought 4 cases of it at $2.00 per case - now they don't taste so bad.

My steering was also starting to worry me, as with the constant strain a bad noise had developed in the bottom cog. The chain too had loosened, and I spent most of a day greasing the system and trying tighten it up - with doubtful success. But there was nothing more I could do except listen to the grating and inwardly cringe, praying that the weather moderated sufficiently for me to take a more downwind course.

Yes, it had certainly been some trip so far. Then only (only?) 980 miles from Rodrigues I also developed engine problems as the cooling system appeared to have packed up. I suspected it was either the impeller or blocked water intakes, but when I jumped overboard to have a look I couldn't find the problem. It was really weird to be diving alone in this huge 4km deep ocean. I was well prepared though, and had two life-lines trailing in the water and all the sails down.

Then the gale came. It lasted for three days - the most terrible 3 days that I can remember. Even worse than Hurricane "Dobie" off Fiji six months ago, and something I would rather forget - quickly! I was perpetually wet from having to go up to the cockpit to stop the wheel from screwing up to wind all the time. Huge waves poured non-stop over the deck, forcing me to constantly re-tie down the dinghy, life-raft and fuel bottles. Everything was sopping wet from incessant rain and crashing waves, my clothes, sleeping bags, bunks, the portlights, hatches - the entire saloon. It was so rough I couldn't even fix myself a cup of hot coffee.

The sea had also found its way into the starboard water tanks, contaminating the lot. So I stored as much water as possible from the port tanks in as many spare containers that I could find, just in case I decide to carry on right through to South Africa without stopping.

Disaster! Just after taking my noon shot, my steering finally broke and I immediately shot up to wind. I soon discovered what the problem was; a broken knuckle pin in the lower joint before it goes to the quadrant. I also knew that it wouldn't be easy to fix, particularly out at sea in a squall. I reefed the main, as the boat was badly heeled, hove to and jammed the steering quadrant with a few pots.

I then connected the Aries up to the emergency tiller but, after about three hours, I realised it wouldn't work properly as there was too much play in the system. There was no choice now: I would have to head to the nearest port, Reunion - which unfortunately lay both up wind and up current of me.

It was an unbelievably horrible night; black, squally with green water almost continually coming over the deck and I was constantly running up to correct the vane whenever it luffed in the gusty winds.

By dawn I was shattered. I had done about 60 miles - hopefully 60 miles closer to the southern shore of Reunion, but until I could get a noon shot I wouldn't know.

The nightmare by now had begun. The skies were purple-black, the seas enormous and in those screaming winds, my emergency tiller broke three times.

There was no turning back. I had to reach land soon - but with no steering it was not going to be easy.

Finally, I got to about three miles offshore of the little French island of Reunion, and despite my predicament decided not to try and enter the southern harbour of St Pierre. Even from out at sea I could see the swells crashing at the entrance, and to attempt it without proper steering would be too risky.

However, once I managed to ease around to the lee of the island, the wind dropped to zero and I was caught helplessly drifting towards shore with the current. Frantically I started the engine but as I had never been able to repair her properly, there was still no water coming out of the exhaust and she would soon seize if I carried on.

It was getting close to panic stations - I had to get out to sea otherwise the boat would be beached. But with little steering, no wind and the current pulling me towards the shore, there was not much I could do.

Just before dawn I hove to to get some much-needed sleep, when suddenly a squall hit me. The emergency tiller was very loose, and only just working as I came about. I had to get the jib down quickly, and was so exhausted I almost fell over the side. At sunrise, to my horror, I realized I was getting blown away from the island. I quickly hoisted the jib and steered with the sails to maintain my position.

A few hours later the wind died, and once again I was battling against the shore currents. Finally, about two miles from Port des Gallets I managed to contact the Port authorities on VHF radio and urgently requested a tow. At last, about and hour later a very friendly Gendarme boat came chugging along and threw me a line. Once inside the sanctuary of the harbour, I gratefully tied up and just slept - absolutely exhausted from the ordeal.

Stopping in Reunion was not quite what I had planned. In fact when my steering gear broke, I was already almost 200 miles past the island heading for South Africa. But after the past two days battling against currents and almost being shipwrecked, I was certainly glad to be on a terra firma.

By the next day I had had time to reflect and re-assess the situation. After a lot of thought I decided to ask Brian, my brother, to fly from South Africa and help me as I couldn't tackle the mammoth steering job alone, as well as all the other repairs. I phoned home, and Brian immediately agreed, saying he would be on the island the following week.

What a nostalgic feeling to see that SAA orange jumbo land. And seeing Brian again; joy, relief and so many other mixed emotions. I hadn't seen him since we were both in Florida, almost 2 years ago. He is one person I can always rely on.

Brian really got stuck into the steering problem; in fact the way he fixed it was pure genius. I also got to work with renewed enthusiasm. By now I was already far more optimistic and positive about everything and was looking forward to setting sail once more, despite the gruelling past month. Also, for the final 1600 nautical miles I would be sailing with a crew for a change as an Australian-Italian girl called Iolanda from one of the other yachts asked if she could join me. I had actually met her the previous month in Cocos when she was crewing on the "Lady Gee", a boat bound for South Africa, and I was only too glad to have her on board. Not only would we be sailing through a number of heavily concentrated shipping lanes, but the company would be very welcome as well.

Having now finished repairs on "Sunrise Star", Brian and I and my newfound crew decided to do a bit of sightseeing on Reunion. Firstly we visited the main town, St Dennis, and fortunately Iolanda, could speak French - very necessary on Reunion. The language barrier can be quite a problem as few people speak English, which is probably why most South Africans opt for Mauritius. But they're making a mistake. Reunion is beautiful, with both magnificent mountains and beaches. Most of the people are of Creole origin, although generally there's a real fruit salad of colours here, and they are really friendly - despite the fact that they can't understand you.

The following day, Saturday, we visited the huge volcanic craters that the island is famous for. It was quite an excursion, necessitating waking up at 4am and walking 3kms to catch the 6am bus south to St Louis. Then we caught another small bus, which took us right up into the mountains to Cilaos. This small village nestles in one of the extinct craters, and the view from the bus windows on the way up is outstanding. The road itself is an engineering feat, often with hairpin turns one after the other as the small bus literally claws its way up against a sheer mountain side with a sheer drop to oblivion on the other side. Not a place for those scared of heights!

Quite a change, though, for me to breath some mountain air, and be that high after more than two years exclusively at sea level.

We also visited St Pierre, which was almost my choice of a port when I was battling to get to the island from the south - was it just 2 weeks ago? It was pretty hairy, and I was very glad once I had seen the harbour from the land side that I hadn't attempted to enter without a tiller. The swells breaking in the narrow entrance are large, and the yacht anchorage in the inner harbour is crowded and very exposed. I am sure I would have had serious problems with no steering had I not changed my mind and sailed the lee of the island instead.

I felt so different and relaxed now compared to when I had first arrived. Gone was that feeling of despondency and lethargy. Thanks to Brian the yacht was in good shape again, and as a bonus the two of us had found time for a reunion on reunion as well...

Brian flew home at the end of the week, and it was now time to get my act together and get out to sea again for hopefully the last leg of the voyage. Iolanda and I immediately adjusted back into a sea routine again. We had only been on land for three weeks, so it wasn't much of an adaptation. The weather was very kind and I managed to cut a good 100 miles off the journey by going close to the southern tip of Madagascar.

But the drama was far from over. As we were nearing the African coastline a violent storm suddenly hit us from nowhere. It was so fast that we were unable to get the storm jib up and the darn vane broke again! I had to use the tiller and it was extremely difficult to hand steer in the battering seas as the wind kept veering. Four to five metre waves were continuously hitting us and crashing into the cockpit. It was horrible, uncomfortable, cold, wet and miserable.... both Iolanda and I started fantasizing about hotels, hot weather, dry beds... steak and chips. But as it was too rough to cook all we had to eat were tinned apricots.

For seven hours I hand steered until finally at about 4.30am, I couldn't take it anymore and hove-to to get some sleep.

That was short-lived. I had just got into my bunk when CRASH! ...a KNOCKDOWN!

I was sent flying from the starboard to port bunk and almost knocked unconscious. But what was even more frightening was that Iolanda who was on watch was knocked right out of the cockpit onto the sea as "Sunrise Star" was hurled onto her beam ends. Fortunately, she was saved by her lifeline and managed to haul herself back on board. The liferaft was ripped off the deck and inflated, but fortunately still remained attached to the stern. The bow and saloon portholes were also torn off and water poured in from everywhere. We immediately got the bilge pumps going, winched the liferaft on board with the main halyard and strapped it under the boom. Then in the howling wind we dropped the jib and with grim determination managed to hoist up a storm jib. I remember Iolanda shouting in desperation at the sea "give us a break!"

That afternoon the wind died completely and we were becalmed. It was from the sublime to the ridiculous! We scraped up some bread and avocado among the shambles for a meal, and started to sort out the wreckage. The cabin was a total mess with wreckage everywhere, the stove was ripped off its gimbals and a pungent smell of paraffin mingled with HP sauce, soy sauce and soggy tobacco come wafting through the companionway.

The next day we could faintly see the hazy outline of mainland Africa - for me the first time in 2 and a half years. We also met a South African open fishing boat named "Amberjack", whose skipper very kindly showed some local hospitality and gave us a fish. Iolanda immediately cleaned and cooked it.

As the sun rose on November 13, we reached the breakwaters of Richards Bay harbour. The voyage was over. For me it was the end of an era - 2 and a half years sailing around the world. Okay, I hadn't rounded the Cape to make it a true round-the-world journey as I had set off from Walvis Bay on the West coast of Southern Africa and finished at Richards Bay. But in all I had logged up 21575 sea miles sailing across the Atlantic, Pacific and Indian Oceans. What a fantastic trip! The friends I had made, the places I had visited, the people I had met ... the experiences I had been through.

That afternoon we tied up "Sunrise Star" to the small craft jetty, and I looked at her with pride. All the past problems of the voyage forgotten.

My salute to a magnificent yacht.
"Sunrise Star", may your keel always be blessed with calm anchorages - your crew with tranquility and peace.
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MORE OF MY SAILING LOGS:

Yacht Shackles. Across the Pacific - Westsail 32.