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OUT
OF AFRICA
SAILING
AROUND THE WORLD ON "SUNRISE STAR"
(Wayward 36)
First
published in "S.A. Sailing"
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.
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