February 26 - April 11, 2000
Richard's Bay to Durban and then around the Cape to Cape Town

After a few months of cleaning and refurbishing Tethys systems from the year
she lay quiet in the Tuzi Gazi Marina, we got a clear weather window to depart
for Durban. Our arrival the year before weighed heavy on our minds and nerves.
We didn't want to tempt the gods by talking about the trip much to others, so
before sunrise, we tossed off the coal stained docklines and eased out of the slip
with almost no wind and a steady barometer. As we left the harbor Thelia
(Rennaissance), Dorothy (Whimbrel) and Katherine (Ethereal) heard us clearing
permission to leave the harbor on VHF 16, got out of their beds to wish us
farewell and fair winds. Very heartwarming, especially at that hour. Outside the
channel, we watched the red sunrise. The current we'd resisted so much in the
storm, was now our friend. On the recommendation of a Durban Sailing
Academy instructor friend, we set our first waypoint offshore immediately,
bound for the 100 meter line. Less than five minutes clear of the breakwater,
Tethys began to feel the familiar strong tug of the Agulhas current. We were
being set to the south 35 degrees while still in 17 meters of water, so we changed
course to clear the ship anchorage and opted to ride the current closer to shore.
Every mile and minute on this coastal passage is coveted. By noon we were a
little more than halfway to Durban and the wind had picked up to 30-35 from
astern. With the wind and current both going our direction, we were sailing
comfortably. Our speed with the current was 9 knots. We both prayed we would
make it to Durban before sunset.

At 1600 we set a course from ten miles offshore for Umhlanga Rocks Lighthouse.
The sweep of the current was 3-4 knots to the south, so we took the advice of
South African sailors and closed the coast well before the Durban breakwater. At
1900 we passed the outer Raycon with 3 miles to go and the African sunset
obscuring our view. We conceded defeat in our race against darkness. The surf
was breaking 3-4 meters astern during the last half-mile into the channel, but
there was no lightening or thunder. Then, Durban Harbor patrol asked us to "hold"
outside the entrance channel for a ship exiting the harbor. The wind and surf
made holding dangerous so we tacked Tethys around in one slow circle then
held our breath and surfed in just astern and in the lee of the tanker. Slowing
now and in relatively flat water I dropped sails and prepared the docklines,
fenders and gear for docking.

Nancy steered through an almost indistinguishable maze of city and harbor
lights while I plotted, replotted, stared through binoculars, at depths and
bearings and readied our dock gear. For two hours we did circles in the hectic
traffic lanes and among the shifting sands of Durban, testing our charts,
waypoints, eyes and binoculars to find the famous international jetty. It was a
three boat length, unlit finger pier with a concrete ramp less than one Tethys turn
around to starboard. The turning basin was a normal slip squared. The South
African skipper of the dive charter cat, Sara, left his braai (bbq) at the close end of
the pier to guide us to the narrow berth to port. He caught and secured our bow
line while I jumped off to the dock with stern line and Nancy went full astern
with the variable pitch propeller getting its first workout of the year. We arrived
in Durban the only foreign flag vessel and the only boat going south. Sara
brought us our first celebratory drinks of South Africa, frozen Mozambique
beers.

Our trip from Richard's Bay had gone well, with no abnormal waves, good cell
phone connections, only one shocking overlap mishap with the roller furling and
the other Tethys' system trials successful. We didn't need repairs or parts and we
didn't have to raft three or four deep on the three boat length jetty. The South
African delivery couple we'd met in Mozambique lived in Durban, so we had
friends to take us touring and help with the messiest maze of officials in all of
Africa.

March 1 we celebrated Nancy's 49th birthday.

Doing the Wild Coast
Merle Stewart joined us for the most dangerous leg of the journey south, a 250
mile harborless passage that boasted the largest abnormal waves in the world, "30
meter shipbreakers." Here, the west and southbound Agulhas current was at its
strongest and here it most dramatically intersected with volatile contrary
weather, river and tidal flows, busy shipping lanes and a steep continental shelf.
Many experienced sailors call Durban home, so local advice was prolific and
true. We cleared the harbor at 1030 on March 8 with a steady bar and ESE to ENE
winds at 10-25 knots. We headed five miles offshore for the 200 meter line and
picked up the current. By 0130 we were 100 miles south of Durban and making
11 knots in gale force E'ly winds. On Keith's recommendation and with Merle's
eye for the current, we followed the distinct cloudline south along the
continental shelf, outside the 200 fathom line and never more than 15 miles
offshore. At the latitude of Cape Morgan, we gybed and headed west, beginning
our approach to East London by steering for Danger Point. We kept the motor on
and someone wrote "blowin and goin" in the log. I ate an avocado with smoked
mussels and tobasco. Merle slept and Nancy relaxed off watch reading
Michener's Covenant. The wind vane steered Tethys easily down the rolly 3-4
meter seas. By 1400 we were back to the 200 meter line and the seas were sloppy
but decreased in height. At 1615 we were off Sharp Peak Light and in 80 murky
meters racing another African sunset. At 1815 we tied up to the riverside pilings,
strung up a huge fender board provided there and toasted our arrival with peach
juice and potatoes. We'd done the wild coast. Never did we sleep more soundly
than in the Buffalo River of East London. The next day we left Tethys in the fresh
water and headed for a lunch spot with hippos arms length from our table.

Our good weather luck tried to change in East London as a nasty seasonal shift
began. We were safe, but stuck in a spider-web of lines against a dirty pier in a
river valley that had been the center of ANC development and an region
penalized for decades by the Apartheid government. This was a land rich in
history, but starved of publicity and public funds. The people we met here were
humble, self-reliant, religously conservative and smart. The pier we tied to was
named in memory of the woman who identified and saved the Coelacanth while
fishing off the Coast. Only a few blocks away was the Steve Biko memorial, the
women's jail where Winnie Mandela spent some time and the rocky pier where
the countries first English settlers came ashore and stayed. We might well have
been in east London, England, for blacks and whites were busy going to work
every morning, crossing the train bridge and laughing. The assertive ways of Zulu
and Afrikans to the north were clearly behind us. This was a place where nearly
everyone was working and the streets were safe.

Every few days a cold front would blow through from the southwest or the
Indian Ocean high would pitch us NE gales from the other direction. We were in
the southern hemisphere going south. We were always racing weather that was
coming towards us and getting worse fast. Our weather windows were really
only moments in a mirror. At 7 every morning we'd talk to Fred (ZS5FM), a ham
radio operator in Durban and then Alistair or Davinia (ZS5MU/ZS5GC) for
weather forecasts and reports from boats and land stations up and down the
coast. Meanwhile, the local Amateur Radio Club adopted us and set us up with
2M antennas and radios. A few of the members spent hours helping us set up the
Icom 706MK2 to communicate with the Kam plus to finally get us up and
running on Airmail email from the boat. Richard (ZR2CLI) brought disks of the
weather bureau forecasts and located shareware for our weather fax program.
Gerald (ZR2GB), whose brother we had met in Madagascar, designed a new
condensor for the refrigerator system, loaned us gear and radios and a truck. Not
a moment was lost in our time at East London. The weeks zipped by faster than
the river current.

March 20th we sailed out of the channel under a rainbow. The bar was 1020 and
steady after a day long rise. Wind was SE at 10-15. Immediately outside the
c hannel we found the current south. The gps read 10 knots over the ground.
Despite the sloppy 2m SW swell we made great progress towards Port Elizabeth
or PE as the locals say. The wind went NE 20 off Port St John's when we could see
the lights off Kenton-on-Sea. At 0600 we had 25 miles to go with fishing boats, 3
ships and 100 dolphins with babies. We surfed gently inside the breakwater and
the morning racers waved as they headed out. Nancy steered Tethys between the
3 foot fat rubber bouy and busy 50 foot fishing boats throwing off their catches
in the noisy bartering hubub. The wind increased from astern and it was evident
that we were in a dead end channel. With plastic bags from the fisherman's ice
threatening to stuff up the sea water cooling strainer at every turn, Nancy turned us
around while I readied fenders and lines and talked to numerous helpful folks trying
to direct us to an available berth. It was Sunday morning and people were groggy,
but thrilled to see us and trying to be helpful. We'd done a 140 mile trip in 19 hours.
We were ready to tie up.

As we finished a very tight turn and were heading back out to clear water, a rail
thin woman started shouting and a man joined her with a booming voice. We
should go on the otherside of the rubber buoy and into an even tighter spot, but
there they would take our lines and a slip was available for week-long stay. The
hinged piers were concrete with big pegs dropped in the holes of there naked steel
connections. The whole dock creaked and groaned, but the cleats were strong and
our breastline would save us crashing downwind, downcurrent and with
enthusiastic helpers into the welcome dock. No one ever believes Tethys is 19 tons
and no one has ever stopped her momentum by bracing their legs or back. PE
was no exception. We got a good scrape on the gel coat, but the dock was intact
when we stopped. And what a great stop. That afternoon we had our best green
salad in Africa. We heard authentic Scottish bagpipe music at the end of the very
busy evening race and got to see the best old library collection on the continent. PE
was a delight. Again, we were the only "foreign" boat, but there were several S'Africans
heading south on the starts of their circumnavigations and the ubiquitous weather
watchers were handy.

One week later we headed out of PE for Mossel Bay.
The QE2 was sailing in, so joining the sailing regatta was fun and we'd get to see the
ship from the sea. The broad bay of St. Francis was not anxious to let us go and
we bounced around, tacking, breaking the wind vane paddle and feeling very
discouraged. At long last we cleared Cape St Francis in fog at 8pm. We were
surrounded by fishing boats as the sea settled down and our heading turned west,
true west for the first time in a year. That night giant illuminations like spotlights 3
times larger than the boat flashed and hovered as we sailed through. Right whales
like these waters and so do vast populations of smaller whales, dolphins and jellyfish.
At sunrise the conditions were almost perfect for the treacherous Knysna entrance. Winds
were light, but the SE swell was still 3 meters close to shore. We saw no other boats in
the binoculars and decided to pass Knysna and carry on to Mossel Bay. Seal, dolphin,
birds of many varieties, flying fish and squid surrounded us. Mountains took up a quarter
of our sky and sent a sweet land smell down on the morning. We tied up at the Mossel
Bay Yacht Club pier after reconfirming our berth on cell phone. Modeling other boats,
we used our heaviest docklines and added chafing gear. Good thing, for the next day
a SE gale would begin to blow and the surge would send all the boats on the landward
side hurtling into the dock and chipping away at the concrete piles. Twenty-four hours
a day the oil service and supply ships maneauvered 15 feet astern of Tethys. The landward
side of the harbor was alive with the fishing fleet, a few resident seal and kids fishing.
Mossel Bay was the smallest harbor we encountered in South Africa. It is the home
of MossGas, an alternative fuel, and boasts the best climate in the world. Honolulu, look out.

On April 9 at 1410 we left Mossel Bay for Cape Town. This was our second long trip
of the passage. We had to round Cape Agulhas, head north to the notorious Cape
of Good Hope and still get into Cape Town itself on one weather window. Two weak
high pressure systems were approaching the capes from the Atlantic. The nearest cold front
was still 3 days out and looked mild. We took the placid winds around the postcard
point of St. Blaize, a Dutch lighthouse that is the oldest in South Africa, and motorsailed
through a dense fog to clear several oil platforms. At 1320 we rounded Cape Agulhas,
headed north and rode an increasingly rough sea north. We were going home. In the early
morning hours we gybed through a fishing fleet and at 0400 we cleared the Cape of Storms.
With the daylight came bullets of 50 knots down the spectacular slopes of Table Mountain
and Signal Hill. We met the Cape Doctor. Our trip around the Cape took 44 hours.
Our trip to get there took years.