We were about 18 miles off shore and being swept along by the current when Sandy woke me for a wind shift and set up the entry into East London harbour. It was around 1 am and one of those situations that feel all wrong. The current sweeping us along, the bow against it and powering on engine and sail to angle the boat sideways at 90 degrees toward the coast. We had a similar situation off Richards Bay, but by far the worst was Thursday Island.
Eventually we broke out of the current's grip and made our way into the harbour. It was a night entry but well lit and we dropped anchor in the Buffalo River around 3am. The voyage from Durban had taken 39 hours. Even though this is my old home town and I know the harbour layout well, it was still tense and we were glad we'd established where to anchor on our road trip in December.
Tuesday was a rainy, overcast day and we were happy to catch up sleep and do the usual work around the boat. It was strange to be back here after so many years with so many memories. In many ways that's all that's left. Dad and mom long gone, brother and sisters, and most old friends living elsewhere. Looking at that old Buffalo River bridge I could relive the days my father and I drove across it to the old grande prix track to watch Stirling Moss, Jim Clark, Jack Brabham and Bruce McLaren. Or just driving out to the Cocobana Tearoom with my mother and siblings on dad's afternoon off for tea and scones and milkshakes. When the occassional visiting yacht was tied up to Latimer's Landing we'd come down and talk boats and cruising. If only he could have been around to see Wind Wanderer anchored in his home town and share the adventures he probably inspired. C'est la vie..
On Wednesday evening Dave and June came out to the boat. It's been a long time but good old friendships stay strong and the time flew. Dave mentioned Wind Wanderer looks just like a boat he used to see on Knysna lagoon when there on holidays. He used to dream of what it would be like to live on it and sail to far away places. He couldn't believe it when we told him he was sitting on the very same boat. It's a funny old life.
The other folk I was keen to see were Peter and Glynis Heger. I've known Peter from childhood and in life's converluted journey, he was my step brother during the last part of my father's life. The numbers I had for him were all old, but I did manage to find him and we spent a wonderful couple of hours catching up the day before we left.
We had a good weather window, good enough to bypass Port Elizabeth and shoot straight for Knysna. It was an overcast day and there was a big swell which we took bow on as we motored offshore to find the current again.
On the way down from Durban we'd noticed a strong diesel smell and seemed to be going through our diesel much faster than usual. On the other hand we'd used the engine much more than usual too, some of it at twice the revs we cruise at. In East London I tried to find any leaks without success. Now te bilge pump was kicking more frequently too.
It came to a head when the tank we were drawing from ran dry way too soon and the main engine died. We'd been motor sailing in light wind in the current, sailing on main and yankee. I went below, switched tanks but there was air in the line so I set about bleeding it. The 12v primer pump wasn't able to get fuel up to th filters, and then I saw the problem. Fuel was spraying from the copper tube from the lift pump. It's difficult to get to but I soon found the nut was still tight but the fuel seemed to be coming from it.
It was just on evening and a temporary repair was going to have to work in spite of possible diesel contamination. I dug out all possible substances and made test spots with an under water rapid setting epoxy putty, and a much slower black silicone gasket maker. In the morning the epoxy had set, and the silicone was setting quite nicely. I decided to use both. Cleaned the area, sanded it and it was dry so molded putty over the whole area. An hour later I covered the whole repair with silicone. It wouldn't dare leak!
I spent a good part of the rest of the day wrestling with the generator. Bear in mind we're sailing, so nothing stays where you put it down. The generator has been overheating with different error messages, but all related to raw water flow. The usual culprit would be the impeller, but I'd replaced that in East London even though the old one was perfectly ok. I stripped everything down including the heat exchanger and found nothing, so put it all back together again. Still overheating.
All the time I was playing mechanic Sandy was trying to get the AIS working. The laptop we use as a monitor had restarted itself and somehow upset the software in the unit itself. Nothing would revive it.
We desperately need to run either main engine or generator for an hour or two to keep the batteries charged overnight when the solar panels can't work. With radar, chartplotter, auto pilot, fridges etc our little ship needs a fair wollop of 12 v power. Of course there is the other issue of hot water for showers! In the tropics we don't need to heat water at all, but now the water is seriously cold.
I left it until late afternoon to test the engine repair but I was reasonably confident we'd have our engine back. I hit the 12v primer pump and mumbled a little 'piratese' as diesel sprayed with as much gusto as before. I couldn't believe it. I'd repaired a perfectly good copper fuel line. I could now see the fuel spraying from the lift pump cover, hitting the fuel line and what I'd seen and 'repaired' was the ricochette!
The cover was held on by a single central bolt and when I got a socket onto it, it was a bit loose. I'd soon stopped most of the leak... just a little more.... My good friend Roger sent me a bumper sticker quote that says it all. "If it ain't broke, wait until I fix it".
The cover and a casting the bolt tightens into broke away and dropped into the bilge. When we got it out it was clear this repair had reached the end of it's natural life. We turned off the fridges and anything else we could do without, to save our batteries.
It was just on evening, the wind had picked up and was gusting 30 kts and the swell was 3 meters, fortunately a following sea as we headed for the coast. We were going to need a tow in somewhere so the plan was to get close enough for phone reception and call NSRI, National Sea Rescue Institute. Plettenberg Bay, Knysna or Mossel Bay were the options.
Both Plett and Knysna would be night arrivals and that put Knysna out of the running, particularly with the big sea. Plett. NSRI gave us the assurance that their bay was an easy approach and a lot calmer than we were experiencing. They also said they'd meet us and guide us in to a good anchorage and gave us the coordinates.
With no engine and a lee shore (wind blowing sea to land) we were only going to get one shot at anchoring with a rocky shoreline if we messed up.
As we got closer the sea moderated to a rolling swell and we had a wind shift. We altered sails and direction accordingly, and then had the wind fall away completely. A current carried us more or less in the direction we needed to go at about a knot. NSRI decided not to come out, but would if we at risk of washing ashore.
About half an hour later the wind came back strongly, fortunately from a direction we could use and we headed for our anchor spot at a brisk 5 kts. We could see the outline of the Robberg cliffs looming closer against the night sky and just hoped our chartplotter was accurate.
All the way in we were so focused on every move, and it went like clockwork. We'd reduced sail to yankee only and turned sharply into the wind. As our speed dropped away we wound it in, fast, and while Sandy took the wheel I scuttled forward to get the anchor down. The boat was pitching in the swell but with the anchor just in the water I had the help of a amazing display of phsospherence to tell me when we'd stopped. Sandy called out our depth and down went the anchor, with a ton of chain to give us our best holding. The anchor dug in and held. Anchor 2 was on standby but we didn't need it. With a question mark over our batteries I was aware I may have to get this lot up again by hand.
We set a waypoint on the plotter so we could see if we dragged and settled down for an uncomfortable sleep in the cockpit.
In the morning things looked a bit better. The cliffs were quite beautiful in the morning sun and after a few phonecalls our new best friend arrived, complete with a ton of knowledge and 50 liters of much needed diesel. Within an hour we'd bypassed the broken lift pump using the 12v primer pump, adding a switch to keep it going continuously. We now had our main engine again.
It was too late in the day to make the run to Knysna and enter the heads on the rising or full tide necessary, so we held off to the following day. As we motored out of Plettenberg Bay we were visited by seals from a colony that lives on the point. It's the first time we've seen seals from the boat and was a nice touch.
The trip was motoring all the way with wind on the nose and 4 hours later we lined up the leads for a perfect entry in near perfect conditions. The leads line takes you very close to the western head but that is where the channel is deepest.
As we came through the heads we were quietly aware of Wind Wanderer's momentous achievement. She was completing a full circumnavigation and returning to her old home town. We'll have to get back to the Caribbean before we can say the same.
The channel into the lagoon itself twists and winds all over the place. We were doing just fine and had a number of boats on moorings on our port side when we got a call on the radio from the yacht club. They wanted us to go on the other side of the boats and to anchor behind a black ketch. Carefully we picked our way through the moorings, which would usually be deep enough, and onto a sand bank!
Roger steamed out to us in his work boat and swung our bow so we could power off the bank and indicated where to anchor. It didn't take long before we realized we were too close to a sand bank and swinging 180 degrees with every tide change had us nervous. Particularly with spring tides over the Easter weekend. We were already close to touching bottom. On the next turn of the tide we moved into slightly deeper water in the channel and put out as much chain as we could given the proximity to the other boats. The next few tides swung us each way and we remained clear of the sand banks.
It was good to be back in Knysna and the yacht club was very welcoming. Being the day before Easter long weekend we stocked up with provisions and just enjoyed the holiday mood on the waterfront. But our 'good times' were not over yet.
Easter weekend itself was overcast and rainy, but it was Saturday night that brought wind howling out of the west. The wind came through Knysna at 30 knots and with the wind and tide and bouncing we dragged anchor. I let out more chain and it grabbed again, but we spent 4 hours with the engine running and every time we swung too near a boat we powered up to swing us away. The rain made for poor visibility which didn't help.
At midnight the tide turned and the wind dropped and we got some sleep. I stayed in the cockpit with the alarm set for the turn of the tide.
Just to add to our trauma, the dinghy line chaffed through so it washed away in the storm. With the tidal current so strong I was sure it would sweep straight out to sea and never be seen again, at least by us. But Mark, who lives here felt there was a strong chance the wind would have blown it out of the mainstream and on to the eastern shore. Sure enough, Sandy spotted a dinghy on shore and through the binoculars it looked very much like ours, but with the motor missing!
It was ours and eventually the Parks Board guys towed it back to us. I don't expect we'll ever get the outboard and tank back, and it was that great little Honda we salvaged off the coast of Australia. Someone got themselves an easter present, I suspect.
So yesterday I stripped and cleaned the carburetta on the old Tohatsu, changed the spark plugs, and we have transport again. It's a terrible feeling to be marooned on the boat.
And to think we chose this life rather than sitting in rocking chairs on the back porch!
Until next time...