DAY TRIPS
Explore the beautiful
Cape Shoreline with us!!!
See the Atlantic seaboard from the water - relax on the deck of our spacious sailboat and
observe the great Southern Ocean's marine wildlife. Enjoy a leisurely lunch anchored at
Clifton beach whilst taking in the breathtaking sights of Table Mountain. Try your hand at
fishing, wind surfing, wave snaking and water skiing or just relax in the sun.
WEEKENDS
Join us for a fun filled
cruise up the West Coast to Langebaan. Leave Cape Town Friday morning via Dassen Island to
moor at Club Mykonos.
The marina has excellent amenities and service. Saturday is spent sailing and anchoring
off exclusive beaches with wind surfing, wave sanking, water-skiing and fishing.
Late on Sunday morning we set off back to Cape Town, with a free sunset champagne cruise.
RIO to
CAPE TOWN
Months before the Cape to Rio race started I
already watched with envy, as all the yachts that had been entered were being prepared and
pampered.
So, when I suddenly got the opportunity to
crew back on Windforce, a Vickers 41, I didn’t think twice about whether to go or
not. My wet weather gear, sailing boots, sailing gloves and beanie were packed two weeks
before leaving for Rio and I was waiting anxiously, as I had no idea what would transpire
in the following month on the open Atlantic Ocean.
The longest sailing trip I had experienced
so far was in a Miura from Durban to Cape Town, after which I promptly bought my own
trusted Miura, but I figured this ocean crossing would reveal to me once and for all
whether there was a "true sailor" in me.
We were a total complement of four and there
was no self steering device on board. Furthermore, the delivery skipper, Alan Coles,
planned to go fairly well down south to at least 36 degrees, as history has shown that,
although one would encounter heavier seas, the winds would favour a quicker trip. So I
knew that I would potentially get very cold and tired.
Windforce had won a prize for "Best
Prepared Vessel" before the race, but by the time she was handed over to the delivery
team, she had just finished an ocean crossing in conditions which had pushed the vessel to
its limits. The first thing we found was that the boat had leaked terribly on the way over
and it appeared this was due to leaking hatches. As wet sleeping bags and clothes are a
nightmare we set about sealing every hatch.The trade off was hot and humid conditions
below decks until we were down south or water all over the place.We chose the former.
After a couple of days of preparation:
checking, fixing and victualling, we left Rio on Thursday 11 February at 6h00 in the
morning, sailed past Cococabana and Ipanema, and headed for Ilha Grande, an island a
day’s sail away. We anchored in the bay of Abraao, the main village, swam ashore, as
we had no dinghy, and treated ourselves to one last meal on land and some ice-cold local
beer.
The next day Windforce was finally
underway,only to be really clobbered on the first night out. Barring the skipper this was
the first ocean crossing for all the crew, so we all had a rude awakening.
On the daily inspection we picked up our
first rigging problem. The inner forestay had basically shredded during that first real
blow. One of the crew had to go up the mast to dismantle this now broken stay as it was a
danger to crew working on the foredeck. We were left with the roller furling genoa, but we
now started to wonder about the strength of the rest of the rigging.
We soon landed our first fish which turned
out to be quite delicious. The only other lifeform we encountered for days were various
kinds of sea birds, which glided past our floating "home".
The days came and went and the ship routine
settled in as we barreled on down south.The night shifts were two people on for 4 hrs each
alternating with an hour at the wheel an hour off and then an hour on again. At the end of
the 4 hrs the next two would come up and the 2 coming off shift would go down for a well
earned 4 hrs sleep, only to be up again in 4 hrs time.Clearly one group would have to do 2
shifts of 4 hrs at night so we alternated daily. During the day we let 3 people do 4 hrs
each and the 4th person would have the day off. We all looked forward to our day off, as
you had no duties whatsoever on that day: no washing down of the deck and cockpit, no
cleaning of the heads, no cooking and no helming. Instead you could sleep and re-charge
your batteries, so that we always had someone on board who was pretty well rested.
Soon we started putting warmer clothes on
under our wet weather gear as it certainly gets colder in the lower latitudes.
I am not sure if it was good luck or not but
when the really bad squalls hit us the skipper always happened to be on the wheel.One
night after a 45 plus knot blow in huge seas breaking over the decks and pooping us in the
cockpit we found the following damage: The working running backstay started shedding it's
stainless steel strands and the roller furling mechanism had torn right through the
aluminium foil.This meant that we had to drop the genoa which itself was now damaged by
the torn foil.The wind direction indicator at the top of the mast was also blown away. We
were very lucky though, as the foil on the furling mechanism tore fairly low down and we
were able to pull up a spare sail, but we would not be able to roll this one up should we
again experience big winds. This meant that the crew would have to go to the foredeck to
get the whole sail down in a serious blow and we had no smaller sails to then deploy in
it's place.
The next day we established that we were
luckier than some other guys in the returning fleet.In the same storm one yacht lost their
forestay and another lost their mast completely. They put out a call for assistance and a
ship eventually responded, came alongside ,and passed them 145 litres diesel as they now
had a long motor ahead of them.They were preparing a jury rig, but the seas were far too
big for them to erect it, as a yacht rolls about excessively without the stabilising
factor of the mast and a bit of sail.
An effervescent tablet container has many
uses. We had to construct a compass light out of ours. Imagine you are at the helm. It is
pitch dark because there is no moon and the stars are blotted out by the clouds and
therefore there is no horizon. All you have in front of you is the compass light assisting
you to stay on course. All of a sudden the light fails. We set about making a new light
for the compass after declaring the compass light now defunct. We used a light bulb from
below decks soldered a wire to it and led the other end through a small hole drilled in
the base of the effervescent tablet container and connected the wire to the power below
decks.The tablet container was then stuck to the compass glass with tick tack and because
the container is made of aluminum we did not have to worry about any effect on the compass
heading. At first the light was too bright ,thus affecting the helmsmans night vision but
this was soon sorted out with some red electrical tape to cover our makeshift light. It
lasted us all the way home.
It was decided that we would have a raving
"party" as we crossed the Greenwich Meridian and we all looked forward to this
major event. As we went "over the bump" though, the weather was rainy and
miserable and the seas were big and unpleasant. So we congratulated ourselves, threw our
"Message in a Bottle" overboard, and proceded to go ahead with our daily chores.
The few times the sun did appear the whole
mood of the ship changed. Suddenly one felt as though one could stay out there forever and
everything just seemed beautiful and magical. One gets the same sensation when helming,
the entire rest of the crew is sleeping, and the sun appears at the edge of the horizon.
We made it home safely in a finishing time
of 23 days and 15hrs. A time very similar to some 70 footers. We all felt that we had had
a wonderful experience and agreed unanimously that we would "get out there"
again.
I immediately walked down to my mooring
where my Miura was patiently waiting for me. I smiled at her and promised her that she
would’nt be left behind again.
Kai Daehnke
