Sailing the Wild Coast to Cape Town

Making landfall into Africa was a dream come true. A battle that was hard fought for. ‘Mama Africa’ had become the Holly Grail.

Once there, the reality kicked in hard. Lack of anchorages. Derelict pontoons. Power shortages. Safety concerns. Crowded places. Litter everywhere. Public urination. Omnipresent rats and cockroaches. Generally, a worrisome place.

People are welcoming and helpful regardless of origin or colour. We never felt awkward or unsafe, with one exception. 

It was one of the afternoons during the Festive Season, when we were walking in central Durban. The atmosphere was pretty hectic. Locals buzzing around going about their business, as well as a big number of hang abounds. We hadn’t seen one white person on the streets that afternoon. For some reason, that was pretty much the case during our stay in Durban. In these buzzing agglomeration Sorin crossed the worried gaze of a local, pretty much saying: ‘What on Earth are you, people, doing here?!’ That was the last time we went rambling in Durban.

On the flip side, we were pleasantly surprised to experience the perfect delivery of touristic services at every touch point. Superior to elsewhere in the world. We were also surprised to know that the upmarket Mercedes C Class is ‘manufactured in Africa for the world’, as the East London street banner advertised. Hard to believe, but true.

Amongst sailors, international and locals alike, we sensed a feeling of anxiety when it came to sailing the ‘wild coast’ south to Cape Town. Some international sailors get their boats delivered by local skippers, some hire local crew, some just linger around for weeks waiting for the ideal weather window that fails to show up. Some just take the bull by the horns and sail down regardless. Some unfortunately, come to grief with the unwelcoming conditions, breaking moorings and ending up stranded on the beach or worse, in hospital…

On several occasions boats had made a 180 degree turn back to the marina when they realised the weather forecast was just a bad joke, and in fact they would have to beat against the wind and big swells. A situation that is best to be avoided!

In more than 6 years sailing around the world we never encountered forecasts as changeable and unreliable as the ones around here.

With an imperative need to make progress towards Cape Town, partly because of our visa and partly because of the urge to be back in the Atlantic, the Captain and I agreed that we will be making sustained progress, unless anything that looks dangerous is looming. 

There we were, sailing in average for a couple of days in one go, more or less every week. Impossible to often find refuge on a coast that is straight as a die. We were not the only to have taken this approach. However, Mehalah moved loosely at her own pace. 

Save for when we were pro-pulsed forward manically by the Aguhlas current, running south on the East Coast of Africa, averaging 8.5 knots – with a max of 12 knots – in 36 hours, the sailing is not particularly enjoyable along the Wild Coast. Mostly grey surroundings. Wild thunderstorms. Hot and cold weather. 

Once we would be making landfall in the few and far in between places along the coast to wait for the next weather window, we would be welcomed by fellow local sailors with friendliness and hospitality.

In a commendable attempt to support international sailors, like ourselves, the local sailors community came together in a voluntary organisation, OSASA, that provides a wealth of information and guidance about formalities, passage making, etc. Yet, OSASA unfortunately cannot set the weather!

Forced by circumstances, after missing the entry into Knysna Harbour that can only be approached safely 1 hour before high tide in settled weather, we dropped the hook by Robberg Nature Reserve, home to a fur seal colony.

We were the only boat in the anchorage. The nature, isolation and surrounding beauty was freedom regained. A feeling that will be hard to match once our project is complete…

We realised how much we had been missing over the recent months. The gentle lulling of the swell. The surrounding silence. Broken at intervals by the lazy growls and moans of the reserve’s inhabitants.

Once through the narrow heads of Knysna lagoon it felt like paradise re-opened its doors to us. Blue waters. Feeding seabirds and seals. Bustling restaurants and cafes. Fancy shops. And most importantly, a strong feeling of harmony and safety. This encouraged us to do what we normally do when we reach a new place. Discover.

After a couple of weeks of normal life, we jumped on the saddle once more for the long awaited two day passage to Cape Town, that would see us rounding the southernmost point of Africa to join the Atlantic Ocean once more. Happy days! We felt grateful to the Indian Ocean for keeping us alive. Nevertheless, we were happy to leave it behind!

The passage to Cape Town was one of the best we had in South Africa. Sailing for most of it in reasonably flat blue waters, rounding a number of capes and mountain chains inshore and marvelling at the superb sea life surrounding us from congregating penguins the size of a duck to puffing whales, playful fur seals and feeding dolphins. 

Reaching Cape Town meant the beginning of the end of our African sailing adventure…