up. Some. As I steered back
past the anchored ships, one
of them gave a blast on her
horn that I decided to inter-
pret as applause. To the south
I could see the breakwaters at
Durban, 7 miles away.
Wave after wave swept over
Gannet and me. While being
fl ailed in the failed attempt
to tack, the jib sheets had
tied themselves in a Gordian
knot. Once clear of the ships,
I tied down the tiller and
lowered and subdued the
mainsail, then went forward
to untangle the jib sheets so
I could furl the headsail. All
brutal and dangerous.
Finally, under bare pole and
being pushed north, I called
on the handheld VHF to the
anchored ships, asking for
wind speed and forecast. One
of them answered, reporting a
wind speed of 45 knots, fore-
cast to go to 50 with 20-foot
waves and easing in 24 hours.
Gannet’s cabin was as wet as
it has ever been, but she felt
safer and much less likely tobe rolled. She had taken a
beating. We both had.
I don’t think the waves ever
reached 20 feet — perhaps 12
to 14 — but I have always pre-
ferred to err on the low side
rather than high. Whatever
their height, they were steep
walls of seething water and
big enough.
After an unrelenting
afternoon and night, the
wind began to drop at 1000
Tuesday, almost as abruptly
as it rose. Even after all
these years, I am sometimes
amazed by how quickly waves
decrease with the wind. By
1300, Gannet was headed
back toward Durban, now
40 miles away, making 3 and
4 knots under full sail across
a mildly undulating sea on a
sunny afternoon. Two whales
spouted a few lengths away.
Albatrosses glided above us.
We entered the harbor late
the next morning and tied to
the international jetty at noon.
This 6,000-mile pas-
sage had been dii cult andsometimes tested my limits,
fi rst with too little wind. A
week out of Darwin, we’d been
becalmed for almost 24 hours
on a glassy sea, and Gannet
had her slowest day’s run ever,
of only 28 miles. I went over-
board for a swim, startling a
fi sh that seemed to be living
beneath us.
Then we’d had two weeks of
too much wind: 25-plus knots
going to gale force twice. This
was complicated by tillerpilot
failure. I probably did 5,000 of
the 6,000 miles using sheet-
to-tiller steering. In strong
wind, this approach can result
in accidental jibes. Twice I had
to lie ahull because the risk of
being rolled was too great. And
Gannet’s interior was entirely
wet, as was I. Every surface was
covered in slime and mold. My
sleeping bag was intolerably
sodden, so I slept in wet foul-
weather gear beneath a foil
survival blanket. Finally that
ended, and we again had mostly
too-light wind.
On a moderate day, withonly 6 -foot waves, one of the
waves broke and caught us
just right, rolling the mast-
head into the water. I know
it went in because afterward
the masthead Windex was
hanging of the side, and the
masthead Raymarine wind
unit was gone. I somehow
don’t think this will be cov-
ered under warranty. (Gannet
is the fourth boat whose
masthead I have put in the
water. This is a club you
probably don’t want to join.)
Gannet has covered more
than 9,000 miles since we
sailed from Opua, New
Zealand, less than four months
ago. Despite being driven and
tossed on the deep blue sea,
she hasn’t suf ered any struc-
tural damage that I can see.
We have done what we
planned to do this year. We are
both going to rest.Six-time solo circumnavigator
and writer Webb Chiles began his
most recent great circle aboard
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