Fool Gael?
Rhiann Marie - Round the World
Stewart Graham
Tue 28 Jun 2011 08:12
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Tuesday 27 June 0414 UTC 0614 Local
29:51.791S 031:01.306E
I owe you all a bit of an explanation for the
sudden end to the blogging last week. So here it is..... I think you will
understand.
When I blogged last it was early morning Thursday
and we had just lost our Autopilot and were confronted with manually
helming all the way to South Africa. To those of you who do not sail or who
day sail, do short coastal sailing or race with a crew this may mot
sound like a big deal. To those of you who have had to do this you will know how
exhausting it it is. Exhausting with all other things being OK but with a 67ft
yacht under engine, when the rudder is constantly under load and the helm is
heavy it is physically a very difficult job. With my back situation it is
actually hugely physical challenging. All of which would be fine but we were now
going to be slammed by a gale too. We would be drenched, cold and tired while
constantly clipped on at the wheel.
Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining or bigging
this up in any way. What we had to do is far less than many sailors regularly
have to do and had to do in the past, though it is a fact that no
sailor will physically take the wheel for any length of time by
choice. I am just explaining to those that may not understand what I mean
when I say "manually helming".
During a large part of Thursday we sailed with the
genoa only and this brought a welcome lightening of the helm, a gentler motion
and reduced noise and fuel consumption.
So next, the impending weather and my decision to
head to Durban. The weather system coming in is a deep low which is
rotating clockwise and moving east. The first bit that we will meet is
North Westerly winds 20 - 30 knots. By heading to Richards Bay we would take
this on and as we have no mainsail we could only tackle it with engine and jib.
After arriving at Richards Bay which was then 60 miles less than going to Durban
we would have to clear in to South Africa and then if we wanted to meet Trish
and Rhiann in Durban we would have to head off the 85 miles to Durban the next
day again. This would be 85 miles along the coast under engine into the
North Easterly counter current and trying to scrape down the inside the south
flowing and dangerous Agulhas current and the worst of what by then would
be a full gale.
Looking at the Durban option we could use the
initial North westerly wind to sail on into the depression, through its centre
where the winds would be light and by my calculations, if we could make
reasonable time we could then spend an uncomfortable six hours or
so crossing the south westerly front as is approached before crossing the
strongest of the Agulhas current and the abnormal and severe waves and
conditions we were warned about. We should be able to get to the continental
shelf and into the shallow water clear of the worst of the weather and sea
conditions by noon Friday.We could then hope to bash down the coast to make
Durban sometime Friday night.
Another option would be just to sail to the north
or even "heave to" ( setting a small amount of headsail fixed towards the
wind and turning the rudder and tieing it in the opposite direction to stop the
boat while riding out the weather). This would be a sensible option and one that
you would normally take if you did not succumb to the pressure of deadlines
etc.
I thought all these things through and bounced them
off Craig who in his youthfull bravado said "c'mon, man up a bit
princess, let's head to Durban". Really, I think he must get this from his
mother...........
We would get regular weather updates and if the
worst came to the worst we could turn and run before the weather.
So like everything else in life, confronted by a
difficult situation I decided not to run from it but to take it by the throat -
head on. And so it was that we decided to head to Durban, right into
the teeth of the gale.
We sailed all day Thursday in NW strong winds and
uncomfortable seas two hours on two hours off. Luckily food was pre-prepared so
off watch it was just a question of heating food. First making mine and eating
it and then making Craigs and handing it to him as he uncramped his fingers off
the wheel. Sometime late on Thursday when taking online weather information from
the satellite I forgot to log the computer off the connection and this
gave these devilish viruses time to attack the computer. We lost the
computer seized up by some virus scam. That was why we could not update the blog
but more importantly we could not get our grib files and weather
information updated. I have known for some time that we were vulnerable to a
computer problem and that we should operate our HF radio for weather information
in parallel. This was certainly an error on my part not to be doing this as
a matter of course. However we had the weather charts, every three hours
for the next 72 hours so there would not be any huge change
expected.
On Friday at daylight we were into the centre of
the system and slacker winds. The seas of course, were very confused having had
a northerly blow across the prevailing southerly swell and the Agulhas
current now starting to be seriously felt. We were on engine and jib. As morning
went on the wind from the south along with the rain started to kick in. We had
25, 30 and then 35 knots and the seas started to build. Strangely the conditions
felt like storm conditions with the seas straked with white lines, spume blowing
off the tops of waves, breaking waves and severe wind gusts. The conditions felt
like 45 knots but wind showed 35. This went on through the midday. Then the wind
moderated a little to thirty knots and as Craig came off watch he said "is that
it?" just a tad underwhelmed. I said that the worst was to
come.
And it was. The timing could not have been worse.
As we were getting into the worst of the Agulhas current the wind started to
really pick up, just a few hours earlier than fore cast and a lot stronger than
forecast. Wind built as the hours went on, back up to 35 then 40 Knots. The seas
were now huge. The engine was used as we had no mainsail, with a
heavily reefed "storm" jib to have any control of direction or forward momentum
at all. As we climbed over the top of waves now at about 6 metres the bow of the
boat would just blow off down wind and off course prolonging our time in the
system. Then the steep climb up the next wave would begin for the process to be
repeated. As the waves rolled us we would find ourselves leaning right inboard
with windward buttock on windward heel! Rain and spray were difficult
to tell apart and of course we were in full heavy weather gear. The shortest way
through the current would be to run parallel to the waves but that was far too
dangerous. The waves had to be taken at an angle pointing at Durban but heading
further into the teeth of what was now a severe gale, and prolonging the delay
to get across the raging torrent that was the Agulhas current. So it was climb
the wave, over the top with a hard pull of the wheel to port to throw the boat
onto her beam ends to prevent launching off the top and slamming, then pull
away hard to starboard to run down the back of the wave and try to make
some westing to escape the cluches of these monster conditions.
The whole top rail of our starboard guard rails was
under water on several occassions and while it did not feel like a knock down I
dread to think what angle we were at. At one point I was thrown violently
against the leeward bimini frame and when I looked down here was my bloody
lifeline lying on the deck beside me! How the hell did I allow that to happen? I
have no idea but of course by now I had had almost no sleep for a few days and
was seriously fatigued. It's like being drunk, losing coordination and not
thinking clearly. "Horrendous" does not describe the conditions. At this stage I
was glad we were in Rhiann Marie. I am certain that a smaller yacht would have
been in survival mode in these conditions and I can say that I know for sure
that a smaller yacht would have been rolled by several of the waves we
were now taking. Of course all hatches aboard were closed and the off watch
below was sealed away from the worst of the conditions.
At 40 knots of wind the bloody whole clew of
the heavily reefed jib blow out completely. A few days before the mainsail,
and today the jib! As it blew out I quickly turned down wind (into the
severe current) and called Craig who was up quickly. It was impossible to
let go the wheel even for a second. In these conditions the genoa was almost
useless so we only now had the engine.
Winds then increased to 45 knots and then 50 knots.
Storm Force. It was as if a riot broke out on the seas. It was an
incredible chaotic maelstrom of a scale and severity I have never before
experienced. There were now 10 metre waves coming through and I swear on my
life some even bigger. This is not the issue it is the pitch of the waves and
the steepness of them. The waves seemed to build vertically then the top half of
them woud surge forward. Leap forward, throwing their best shot. Craig
wanted me off the wheel and to start his watch. I was seriously fatigued
but felt I had to keep the wheel a little longer as this could not keep up and
we were slowly making westing to the relative safety of the "inshore" (still
some sixty miles north east of Durban) waters. To be here at night was not
an option.
Around about 1500 I was climbing a huge wave,
taking it at 45 degrees when it burst open and launched itself over the port
quarter swamping the cockpit completely. I felt, saw and heard it just
in time and with both feet now on the coaming at the helm position I was on
the deck standing almost vertically, holding the wheel hard with one hand and
the other over my head as the raging torrent of white water broke
all across the boat. Thank god for thirteen tons of lead in the bulb of our
keel! I stood up and looked to leeward and saw a sight I will never forget
for the rest of my life. We were at the top of a wave and downwind there was a
row of four waves lined up surging away from us. The image of the shear immense
power they carried was breathtaking. They were like, and the scale of four long
rows of terraced houses. What was immense was not the height of them but the
depth of the chasms in between them and the proximity of one wave top to
another.
Craig was now in the cockpit fully togged up and
clipped on. He wanted me off the wheel. He knew my back situation, he knew I had
done my watch and he wanted to do his. Solid, completely solid. On the one hand
all the "family jewels" were aboard and I had been very concious of this.
On the other hand there is no one in the world I would have rathered had
beside me then.
The wind instruments built now and read at a peak
150.9 knots. I am not suggesting we had 150 knots of wind, in fact we certainly
did not at sea level and below sea level often! However, either wind shear at
the almost 30 metre top of our mast or just the instrument being sent into a
frenzy by the conditions caused the reading. In fact I thought we must have lost
the transducer or it had broken and that was causing false readings. Anyway
after a while I shouted to Craig "don't worry it's down to 129 knots now!"
Neither he nor I were scared. We were in control and lose it would have meant
losing it. As long as we could helm we would be fine we felt. To lose the engine
would however have been catastophic, smaller boats could have been rolled.
Running down wind in front of the waves was not an option as the shape and
height would have pooped us and or surged out of control and broach more
likely.
It took what seemed like an age to creep over the
steep seabed conditions onto the shallow continental shelf and away from the
"edge". Wave height fell to 4 to 5 metres or so once a few miles inside
the edge. The wind fell away down past 40 knots and settled at 30. We still
could not make any real headway to Durban and had to run almost directly west
where inshore there were a large number of very large ships at anchor. We heard
them talking about conditions and wave climate moderating in a few days when
they would be able to cross the Agulhas current. Yes and they were between
600 and 1000 feet ships!
Around 0130 we made our way into the peacefull
windless marina in the centre of Durban. We had barely slept for some days just
snatching a bit here and a bit there on "off watches". We crept all the way in
down a narrow aisle with no way of turning back and with now bow thruster
operating we would be lucky if we could turn without handing our way along other
boats we crept into a berth which was the only one available and could not have
been more perfect.
We cleared the worst of the damage, and there was
damage. We sat down to have a wee dram as there was no way sleep was going
to come easily after adrenelin pumping through the system as it was. We sat all
night and yarned and drammed and bloody fine it was too. At 0800 the office was
open so in our hilarious state we went to complete all the formalities. All
credit to South Africa nobody threw us out and we were allowed immigration.
Breakfast at 1200 on Saturday in the yacht club consisted of steak pie and
chips and cheeseburger and chips and yes, why not? A cold beer too.
Was it foolish to head in there to Durban, should
we have just gone to Richards Bay or sailed north away from the system or
hove to? We can reflect on the lessons learned at another time
..................
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