62
GREAT SEAMANSHIP
thrill seeker’s gamble. Current conditions are indeed more
favourable inshore of the Agulhas Current, but the coast’s
pounding surf and hungry shoals are menacing
adversaries. It wasn’t hard to decide that neither of these
op tions was right for the Wind Shadow crew.
Ours could best be termed the ‘sprint-for-shelter’
option. We decided to wait in Durban until January and
then, very cautiously, harbour-hop our way from the east
coast of Africa to the west. We would keep a close look at
weather patterns and decide departures on favourable
conditions rather than by calendar.
Hammered by a gale
We made our way south from Durban with considerable
anxiety. Wind Shadow avoided a gale by slipping into East
London. We were a little late in our arrival at Port
Elizabeth, though, and were well hammered by a second
gale. With a sigh of relief we finally reached the
commercial port. Coal dust and rust scale from steam tugs
and locomotives nearby fell like snowflakes. Nonetheless,
the sheltered inner harbour of Port Elizabeth was for us
the prettiest sight imaginable.
Cape Agulhas, about 300 miles along the coast past
Port Elizabeth, is actually the southernmost point of
Africa. We rounded the headland at night with bad
weather at our heels. The prospect of facing a frontal
passage at the Cape of Good Hope the next night was
worrisome, but the legendary safe haven of Simon’s Town
was within reach and if all went well we would find safe
shelter by nightfall.
The weather held off, and at dusk we slipped behind the
Simon’s Town breakwater and headed thankfully toward
the mooring area. We motored over to a South African
Navy pilot boat at the entrance to identify ourselves and
explain our intentions. We were
courteously greeted and directed to
an anchorage. Before long, with Wind
Shadow safely tethered to a buoy and
our Cape of Storms anxiety at last
remote, Lenore decided to roast a
chicken. Tara, Eric, and I were
engaged in a serious Monopoly
game. It is hard to describe the
pleasure felt by a tired crew upon
reaching a safe harbour.Not welcome
This time the good thoughts were
short-lived. Before the roasting chicken had progressed
much beyond the lukewarm phase a call came from
above. Someone wanted the master of Wind Shadow. It
was the pilot boat again. Its skipper informed me that he
had bad news for us. We were not allowed to stay in the
harbour. This was a Navy base, his commanding officer
controlled the port, and “it was not open to yachtsmen.”
Astonished, I drew his attention to the fact that we were
surrounded by pleasure craft. He remained inflexible. I
asked if we could slip the mooring and anchor south of the
fleet. He informed me that the port jurisdic tion stretched
25 miles in that direction and we must anchor beyond that.
I asked what would happen if I refused to leave. He said I
would be arrested. Eric heard the comment and charged
below to get the spear gun, ready to hold off the boarders.
I recalled an Australian friend, a few weeks ahead of us,
who’d stayed in Simon’s Town. I brought this to the attention
of the in creasingly agitated pilot boat skipper: “Why was
our friend allowed to stay and we have been refused?”
“What nationality are you?” came his return.Facing waves in
the open ocean
off the southern
tip of AfricaChasing another yacht on
passage from Durban to
Port Elizabeth