Boat in Marina

After concluding that I was trapped in this compound until Monday I had the last beer on board then cooked a spaghetti meal - my first since Brazil - with plenty of olive oil, tomato sauce, and Parmesan cheese.  I then went to bed with the intention of getting up in 2 hours for a Sailmail session to publish the last blog of the passage, then sleep for the rest of the day and all night for maybe 15 hours.  But that wasn't to be, and probably for the better. 

I managed to get up for the Sailmail session because of the persistence of the chart plotter alarm then afterwards went back to bed as planned.  But at 2.30 PM another alarm woke me up with the first of two crises.  Fortunately I had left the instruments on and I was being warned of shallow water.  Oh Great I thought, I could be bumping the ground for the next few hours.  I quickly brought up that super marvelous WXTIDE32 program, set it for Cape Town, and saw immediately that we were at precisely the nadir of the tide cycle which was very good news.  I also noticed that the depth was fluctuating between 2.4 and 2.9 meters, suggesting that there was a surge working on this corner of the harbor.  By then the wind was howling with vicious gusts of 35 and 40 kts.  I went topside to check the boat and found the second crisis.  The wind was pressing the boat hard against the pontoon and the crucial fenders in the middle of the hull at the tumblehome had been squeezed up and out and the hull was directly against the pontoon.  I didn't know how long this had been going on but had no doubt that there was big damage to the gelcoat.  Fortunately during this cruise I have gotten better at not freaking out in a crisis, not so much out of lofty philosophical insight but more to protect my psyche.  I thought 'Oh well, as long as there isn't too much damage to the fiberglass I can wait until I have the hull repainted in Fremantle.'  I managed to squeeze the fenders back into position and lower down so that the curve of the hull would tend to push them down rather than up, and could not see any damage to the gelcoat.  Later I ran my hand over the side of the pontoon and saw that it was not concrete as I had thought but rather like a fiberglass, and rather smooth at that.  That smoothness coupled with the fact that the boat and pontoon were moving together must have provided the happy outcome.  Before I was finished I had 7 fenders protecting that side of the boat.

While I was working on the boat I had noticed two young policemen washing their cars.  I went over to them and explained the reason for my presence with an apology.  Their attitude was 'Oh, you mean that boat?  Yea, that's OK.'  Later I asked them if they could let me out of the compound so that I could visit the RCYC about moving my boat.  They explained that I could simply walk out and there was a call button when I wanted to be let back in.  With that I visited the RCYC and spoke with the guard.  The receptionist had just left and there was nobody else.  Tomorrow, Monday, at 8 AM the club would be fully functioning again.  This explains why nobody had answered my VHF calls - nobody was around because it was Sunday. That's fine and understandable, but from now on I will be very scrupulous about avoiding arrivals on a Sunday, regardless of what the web site states.

I returned to the boat satisfied that the authorities were likely to be understanding about my unauthorized presence and that I had a way forward to getting the boat move to the RCYC.  Although there had been a foul up in my entry, at least I had made it in while the wind and water were calm and had managed safely tie up the boat securely.  I was proud of how I handled the boat for the tie-up.  The wind had begun to pick up speed as I entered the harbor and by the time I reached the pontoon in was at about 9 kts from the port side, meaning that the wind would push the boat down onto the pontoon.  I simply nudged the boat parallel to the pontoon then let the wind bring me down onto it.  Easy.  Had I arrived 2 hours later I would have faced big wind problems.

Meantime the gusts continued.  The prospect of regular occurrences of these bouts of gusts alone is enough to put me off from staying at RCYC.  The gusts, I understand, are due to the proximity of Table Mountain, which must be that spectacular long mountain with a flat top that I saw very near by as I walked to RCYC. 

Back at the boat I started to see it from a "normal" perspective rather than the somewhat desperate perspective of someone trying to get through a rough passage.  For the last few hours I had been focusing on getting the boat to safety and now I was sweeping the floor.  I would love to have 3 days to clean this boat from one end to the other because it seemed that everything was damp, dirty, or mouldy.  I had tried to keep the place clean but there is only so much that one can do with cold seawater, since fresh water was too precious to use for cleaning.  Unfortunately the cleaning would have to wait.

I have stopped using sea water in the galley primarily because the water in the harbor cannot be expected to be particularly clean.  Besides, I'm ashore now and fresh water should be no problem.

I didn't say much about my approach to Cape Town in my last blog because I was so tired.  (I'm still in a daze.)  However, I will say now that it was a great experience.  In a calm sea and light air I was able to appreciate the spectacular view of Cape Town as it unfolded even as the dawn and morning unfolded.  I saw many seals (small ones) and in the harbor I had a brief escort from dolphins that were also on the small side and had white markings.  I particularly enjoyed watching the mother escorting the boat with her young offspring close to her side.

As darkness approached I removed the airvane from the Monitor then settled in for the night with a half bottle of red wine and wondering what I would have for dinner. It would probably be rice with sardines in tomato sauce - for me a luxury meal.  I was feeling better about the situation.

I woke up naturally at 4 AM UTC (6 AM local) time to conditions of dead calm and a cloudless blue sky. The anemometer at top of the 50 ft mast was reporting 1.6 kts and I would be able to push the boat around with one hand.  It was time to move the boat.

I had two cups of coffee that for some reason tasted extraordinarily good - as good as the finest black coffee from any commercial establishment.  Then it was time to get to work.  I saw that I had good water at 3.9 meters and that the little bit of wind was nudging the boat away from the pontoon, which was helpful.  I started the engine, prepared the ropes, then pushed the stern away from the pontoon and ran forward and pulled in remaining rope at the bow that was looped through the bollard.  I put the engine in reverse and the prop walk kicked the stern further to port and soon I was drifting backwards toward along the short fairway parallel to the shore.  I let the boat drift until we reached the corner and I had look around and did not see the fabled dock that the unhelpful yachtsman had told me about.  I put the engine into forward and soon we were on our way out.  My plan was to tie up at that short piece of dock space at the end of the fairway but trying to make a right turn to it would not work because as soon as I put the engine in reverse the stern would be kicked away from the jetty, so I decided to go out of the marina, do a loop, and approach the dock space bow on.  That was just as well because as I started the left turn I saw that another boat had taken the dock space that I had planned on.  On the way past, by the way, I got a glimpse of a blue sign that I think said Visitors, which meant that the visitor spaces had been occupied when I arrived.

Coming back into the marina I saw through binoculars that there was another T section of dock free at the far end of the main fairway, but for some reason I decided to turn the boat around and try to tie up behind the boat that had taken "my" space.  However, I decided that it was too dangerous to try this because of the short remaining dock space available and the possibility that those ferocious gusts would return and drive me into the boat ahead.  So I put the engine into reverse and backed two hundred meters to the free dock space.  I had never tried to back the boat up long distance but I learned the technique fast.  You've got to manage the rudder carefully and before giving the boat a jolt of reverse use the rudder to point the stern to the starboard side in order to compensate for the prop walk.  At first opportunity I'll try backing the boat with the engine continually in reverse.

After I had the boat properly tied up (at slip SN20) I walked to the gate at the end of the jetty to see if I could get through it.  Fortunately it was unlocked so I knew that I would be able to reach the club house.  It was 7.30 AM local time, which gave me plenty of time for more coffee and a good sprucing up before making contact with the club.  I had a good look at Pachuca tied across the end of the jetty as I walked back.  Everything about her, from her rigging and equipment to the fuel jerry cans on deck to even to the way her mainsail was bound on top of the boom, had "cruising boat" written all over it.  I was proud of her.

I thought of Jean Socrates who expected to round the Horn on this day.