Wrapping up our South African adventure to sail to new horizons

Cape Town was a revelation. Not only that the surrounding splendid mountain chain is hanging onto the colourful and ever expanding ‘Mother City’ like a statement necklace, but there was a feeling of arrival when reaching Cape Town.

It was clear in our minds that our stay is going to be short lived, but the feeling persisted. Was it the sleepless nights and hard work we put in to get there? Was it the relief of finally leaving the Indian Ocean behind? Or was it, perhaps, the return to our undeniable origins? 

Whatever it was it felt good. Especially once we ‘escaped’ the overpriced concrete jungle at V&A Marina, built on reclaimed land, for the more nautically social Royal Cape Yacht Club, warmly hugged by the rugged Table Mountain and its second in command, Lion’s Head. 

We rambled the surroundings wide and far. When we could no longer ramble we hired a car to adventure further afield. We drove as far as the wind swept Cape of Good Hope. Every corner discovered was more than we imagined.

We marvelled at the cute African penguins wing flapping and cosying up in their sand burrows, before taking to turquoise sea. We learned a great deal about human life’s origins. We admired untamed wilderness around the Cape Peninsula. We discovered the seemingly unremarkable fynbos type plants, native to South Africa, which observed from close are true botanical treasures. 

We drove to picturesque Hout Bay along the dramatic Chapman Pick cliffs sinking into the big blue. As the sun was going down, we’ve seen some of the biggest surf breaking, washing on the long white sandy beach at upmarket Camp Bay. We climbed the most conspicuous picks in our reach. We walked some of the stinkiest streets and we’ve seen some of the most basic human habitations. We feel grateful for the experience. 

After a South African post office clerk smiled at my surprise that our post, forwarded from England, was stuck in Johannesburg Customs for weeks, and after a local sharing his experience with the South African post, we picked up the first weather window, setting the compass north towards St Helena, just over 1,700 nautical miles away. Time and tide wait for no man. Nor do seasons! Or the Brazilian Carnival…

We were excited by our return to the Atlantic Ocean. So excited that once we set sail, we overlooked the fact that although we had left the old grumpy Indian with its chaos and rage behind, it was still an ocean that we would be crossing. Not a pond!

The big swells of the Southern Ocean, travel north indiscriminately. When one of the oversized waves would occasionally break over Mehalah’s hull, I would jump like an electrocuted cat! I had to remind myself that it was okay. We were offshore sailing after all.

About a week in the passage the big swells started losing momentum, giving way to beautiful sailing conditions. For most of the time it felt like we are driving a 2 speed car. We were either on the 3rd or the 5th gear. Rarely in between. 

The 3rd gear was a touch too slow to avoid the occasional sails flapping, caused by the omnipresent swell. This unwelcome flapping would send the sail in a contained revolutionary rage, thanks to the reinforced jibe preventer. Nevertheless, the accompanying metal screeching sound was nerve wrecking.

When in the 5th gear, there was no sails flapping but an intense rolling from gunnel to gunnel. If we were to be caught in the middle of one of these standing, in order to avoid being thrown flying across the cabin, we would instantly grab onto something, making use of a strong hand grip and a solid foot rooting. If we were to be caught on the wrong foot, we would have to swiftly contortion the body to get into a safe position. It was hard to negotiate any activity in these conditions. 

Third or fifth gear, an ocean natural state is a continuous chain of rollers, shaking Mehalah’s rising and falling hips, mostly on a steady tempo. But not always!

The apogee of chaos and despair onboard was when, in the middle of preparing a meal, everything on the galley top slid with a scream and took off flying. Followed by our arms, in a desperate and unsuccessful attempt to catch. The dramatic atmosphere is always topped by my desperate screeming, adding tragic-comic to the situation, whilst the Captain remains mostly unflappable. 

At times, the surf would take Mehalah on an incredibly long hissing journey. This will eventually vanish to leave behind moments of lulling. It would be a while before another following wave meets Mehalah’s bum at the same hight and angle to take her on the journey once more. In one of these journeys we would reach over 12 knots of speed! 

The 10th day of our 13 day passage from Cape Town to St Helena marked the completion of a 360 degree circle sailing around the world. We happily crossed once more the 0 Greenwich meridian from east to west. 

All that is now left, is to close the loop by sailing north across the Equator to finally cross our outbound track in Martinique, after 7 years of circumnavigating the world. A total of 31,000 nautical miles. 4,450 miles to go!