I unashamedly admit to being an atheist even though I had a fairly strong Christian upbringing, forced to attend Sunday school week after week, year after year until I rebelled sometime in my high school years. So it felt fairly hypocritical to want to suddenly start pleading with a higher power when being battered with 70 plus knot winds and the imminent and very real threat of the mast crashing on to the deck, to save us. A sailors dilemma, I am sure one many will understand.
Synopsis of events……left Hout Bay marina on Sunday 31 March as there was a slight weather window with no roaring South Easter for us to get past Cape Point and across the bay. Uneventful sail, waited an hour outside Gordons Bay Yacht Club until the tide allowed us in to the marina. Lovely week settling in, great club and facilities. Everyone was well aware of the forecast of 40 plus knots on the way at the end of the week, extra ropes were bought and secured and life was dandy. Being new in an unfamiliar marina we were happy to stay on the boat to check all was ok. Well, did that wind knock the shit out of all the boats on Friday, dinghy smacking around on the davits, solar panels straining to take flight and so many new and disturbing creaking and groaning noises on deck.
Saturday morning dawned, blustery and overcast. Main sail, mizzen and Genoa firmly tied up with extra ropes, dinghy removed and deflated, dinghy engine tightly secured on deck, solar panels all removed and lugged up to a club members car to be stored on land. Ropes tripled checked. Wind picked up steadily all day, and we were blissfully unaware that the NSRI wanted to evacuate us late Saturday afternoon but the walkway to get to our jetty was already partially submerged. There was no immediate danger, they thought I should get off and would be more comfortable on land, broken wrist and all!
1.45 am. A new noise added to the shrieking, screaming wind. A sail flapping, the boat bucking like a bronco with the savage wind filling her sails, ropes straining, wooden jetty creaking, fenders like nails on a chalkboard against the jetty. Michael rushed outside, couldn’t obviously get to the front of the boat but managed to furl sail in, got it most of the way in, furling line was spooled out, had to leave it and hide down below again. So, another thing to worry about, will the force of the wind on the loose foresail still out cause a shroud to let go and the mast come crashing down? Not my proudest moment, I had a serious flashback to our dismasting in the Atlantic a while back and shrieked like a banshee. A loud one, how he didn’t smack me quiet I will never know.
Actually, the demasting in the open sea was easier to handle, you adapt the boat to the wind/weather direction. Pinned down on a jetty, at the mercy of ropes, an unfamiliar jetty and no space to manoever is worse.
As my cynical, unsympathetic son said “Mom did you think you would drown in 4 metres of water and land 100 metres away.” No, dear son of mine. I feared the mast crashing down, being trapped inside a boat intent on doing a Titanic move and not being able to get my fat-ass, lifevest-clad body through the not so big fore hatch!
Sunday morning, winds high, sea whipped up in a frenzy around us, seaspray so thick it was like rain, no way in hell we can do anything but sit it out. And we did. Suffice to say that that day and night were the worst 24 hours either of us have ever had. At the mercy of Mother Nature and her full fury. No sleep, terrified, hate the boat, hate my life, hate everything. Rocking, rolling, both very nauseous, hard to walk inside the boat, on full alert, ears straining, could hear the wind coming from a distance and then dadadada, hitting us, entire boat shuddering, 20 seconds at a time, eventually lasting only 6 seconds and boy, that made us happy!!
Monday there was a weather window from 8 to 11 in the morning. Mike was up on deck removing the tattered sail, checking ropes, noticed one side of the finger on our jetty was completely detached so we are hanging on to one finger with one bolt. I kinda lost the plot at this point, threatened to jump overboard and swim to land. Mike realised I had had it, radioed yacht club who sent out NSRI to collect us and the bits I managed to pack, by boat (at this stage we had realised that as fast as we pumped up the dinghy she was deflating, storm damage).
Total bloody nightmare experience but finally on land. Recorded top wind was 81.2 knots, approx 137 km/h. Go sailing, it’ll be fun they said……
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