After losing the mast the whole thing was to get my life back together again, not in the way that it had been but in a way that would be more acceptable to me. I had found the drudgery of a daily routine boring to the point of frustration.

Pottering around the boat I made arrangements for a new mast. The boat simply wasn’t a boat without one. The boom was raised by 200mm to allow more clearance over the bimini. The mast was shipped from Cape Town to Durban where Yacht Masts and Rigging did the pre delivery checks and roaded it up to Richards Bay where the rigger and his assistant fitted it.

Then it was the new sails.

 

I had a number of visitors. Among them was Dennis who had a scheme to get a job at Ulundi based on my qualifications. This was not the last time this happened. He arranged for an interview with an ex councillor, now the Town Secretary, during which he tried to discuss his plan with the Municipal Manager without luck. It was clear that they were interested in me. The Town would lose it’s licence to supply electricity unless they could comply with the requirements of the Occupational Health and Safety Act which stipulates that a distribution authority shall appoint a person in terms of General machinery Regulations 2. The Town Secretary and I had a brief discussion and I agreed to start immediately as I did not want to think about it any longer in case I changed my mind. I hired a car and was on site the following day. The package included the usual substantial transport allowance which if handled carefully could supplement the incumbent’s income. In this case the whole of the amount was not enough to carry the daily trips from Richards Bay to Ulundi. I did eventually make use of the B&B’s in Ulundi once I was fairly sure that the kids would be OK on their own during the week. The restaurant helped by providing meals and I had a maid cleaning and doing the laundry.

 

By the end of the following year I made the mistake of not being at work at a time when the staff were rebelling and end of year marking of final exams was taking place. I was tried and  found guilty of not being on site when I was needed. I had had enough and recently had a call from a Director of the KSD Municipality at Mtata where I had submitted an application form more than a year ago. I agreed to take the post there. The remuneration package was better but similar circumstances gave rise to similar problems.

 

It wasn't long before I  decided to drop my KSD, Mtata post of Engineer due to Mikel’s behaviour and the risk it imposed on having him live in the Whitehouse B&B with me and his siblings. I gave my Jeep Cherokee  to the bank. Elizabeth, the manageress at the B&B had agreed to let us have an extra room of the house on the adjoining premises which they were using  as additional accommodation but seemed to have a problem with me having my children at the B&B all day. Having Mikel would have been a huge risk as he was prone to behaving violently if he couldn’t have his way, which was most of the time because he simply could not comprehend that there were expectations of him. After 6 years or so he has settled, more because I maintain a regular environment in which little changes. Mikel will always have difficulty with sudden changes and needs someone like me to interpret his psychological needs in a way to mitigate any relatively extreme or sudden changes which frightens him into a violent rebuttle.

 

I was fortunate enough to find a space on the wharf at the Small Craft Harbour where we set about getting ourselves a life. The boat was in fairly good condition and I had the money to finance the annual SAMSA inspections. SV Charlotte was prepared for offshore clearance. The hull inspection which included pulling the shaft, checking the fit of the propeller by blueing, checking the condition of the cutlass bearing (There was a bit of play but still acceptable to the inspector) and resetting the packing in the stuffing box which itself received close inspection, was followed by a coat of International anti fouling. Back on the water SAMSA inspected the interior for compliance with safety gear such as the registration of the vessel, serviceability of the liferaft flares and other safety equipment required to enhance survival at sea in the event of an incident threatening the vessel and all on board. By the time this was done it was already September and Charlotte was due to start school again in January 2010. I submitted flight plans from Small Craft harbour. On the morning of departure it was overcast with occasional rain and easterly winds. We were ready. The children were excited by the prospect and appeared to ne eager to participate in this short voyage. Their sailing experience, until our attempt to set off on a circumnavigation, had been limited to day sails in and around the harbour.

 

On clearing the harbour entrance we headed out beyond the ships from where I set course to Durban. An easterly swell 1,5 to 2m was running under the dark sky. The wind initially less than five knots soon increased to 30-40 knots. Boat speed about 8 kts, GPS gave speed over ground of 12 kts implying current on our course of 4 kts. I set the autoplilot. In the face of strong winds and relatively heavy seas the Raymarine autopilot handled the steering a lot better than any of us could. This gave me the opportunity to enjoy the constant rush of white water coming off the top of the breaking waves rushing past us. These broken tops are generally known as white horses. I invited my young crew into the cockpit where they could appreciate the conditions, something a first for them as previous sailing was in lighter air. Dylan had been out in the teeth of a Southerly gale but we had left at night and he would not have appreciated the conditions of the sea. At this stage SV Charlotte was sailing even keeled bar the occasional light roll to Port or Starboard. The occasional rain was not unpleasant as long as we stayed undercover. It was warm enough. I kept the motor running so that the autopilot did not run the batteries flat. The hissing of white water over unbroken waves had a soothing effect. While the boat rolled pleasantly she surfed into the troughs, lost speed and then rushed off the tops again, occasionally getting left behind before finding a new wave to surf on.

I was keeping the usual hourly log when I noticed that the boat started to veer off course. An Off course alarm heralded from the  autopilot. It took me a while to figure out that there was something wrong with the autopilot. It was possible that the conditions were too tough and the autopilot simply couldn’t cope. After a number of attempts to reset the Autopilot I realised that there was in fact something wrong with the autopilot.  I started to steer and called Dylan to helm while I looked at the steering gear. The base of the autopilot had torn out of the fibreglass with which I had fixed it to the hull. I hadn’t used enough glass. I had imbedded a mounting board with the mounting bolts in a mound of gel and sealed it to the hull. What should have been 10mm of GRP was less than 5mm thick and had torn at the edge of the mounting board. I would have to do repairs once we were in Durban. For now there was no alternative but to steer by hand.

 

 After an hour Dylan had had enough and went below. Fortunately the voyage was short and we arrived in Durban in  overcast weather without much wind. The wind had dropped near Umdloti. I had cut the motor as we were not using the autopilot so we had a nice quiet sail. From Umhlanga rocks there was very little wind and we drifted towards Durban. At about 4:30 I had Charlotte on deck as a watch. I was having trouble starting the motor. Charlotte came on deck wanting to help. In my frustration I yelled at her, yelling  that we were drifting onto the beach. What I needed was to make her aware of our predicament in order that she would be prepared for a number of tasks which I may have needed her to do, such as take the wheel, which she did, or simply to understand why we were dropping an anchor should that have been necessary. When she complained that I was shouting I simply explained our predicament. Although I think that she still did not fully comprehend what I wanted she had become more aware and co-operative, offering to get the anchor chain out. This wasn’t necessary at this stage but she did take the wheel and held our position until Dylan came on deck. As there wasn’t any real urgency, we were out of the shipping lanes and seemed to be drifting very slowly, I calmed down and enjoyed having Charlotte with me but by this time her eyes were on stalks.

 

I was still trying to get the motor started but had a problem which I thought was due to the batteries. Apart from having gel in the fuel line as I later discovered, the starter motor had damaged the ring gear at some stage and was not turning the motor fast enough for it to start. I was relieved when it did eventually start and we motored off towards the entrance to the Durban harbour.

 

At about 06:00 SAST and before motoring into the harbour, I used the VHF and called Port Control on channel 9, requesting permission to enter harbour. The officer on watch, sounding impatient and relieved, bade me follow a small ship in, for which I thanked him and bade him a good day. Although they hadn’t said anything to me, I got the feeling that they were concerned about me and my young crew.

 

We needed a few supplies such as soft drinks and margarine or medium fat spread. Other items we would be able to get from the Bluff Yacht Club once we had settled in. I headed over to the Durban Marina and the international jetty as it would be convenient to pick up a few things from a nearby T room or the 7/11.

 

We tied up on what was ostensibly a deserted international floating dock. Having cut the motor I was warned that there was a large yacht coming in and to move to the Marina. I warned the guy telling me to move that I was having problems starting the motor. I tried it a few times but it didn’t want to start. Fortunately the guys towing the larger yacht in offered to tow us out to the Marina’s floating docks which they did. We thanked them profusely.

 

While waiting for the motor to cool down (it seemed to start only once cool) and making sure Mikel didn’t get upset at being left behind (I took advantage of his ignorance as I often do) I headed off to the shop where I got a spread for our buns and some soft drink for our thirst. Three or four hours later, having adjusted our mooring lines a few times, I managed to get the motor started again. We headed off toward Maydon Channel and the Silt Canal. In the channel I started losing power again and the motor died. As the wind was still very light I drifted out of the channel and anchored near a submarine caisson just off the trawlers wharf near Wilson’s boatyard.

 

 The radio crackled on channel nine, calling, “the yacht in the channel”, telling us not to anchor there. I advised the caller that I had a problem with the motor and that I had pulled clear of the channel. We went to a working channeI where I explained at length that I was well out of the shipping lane and hoped to get the motor started in due course. I was offered a tow but declined requesting an hour or so to get the motor going again. We were in shallow water and I wouldn’t be long. My request was acceded to.

 

What now? I had had this problem before but I really wasn’t sure what the problem was. Checking the starter motor I realised that there wasn’t much I could do there, I had tried removing and replacing the starter a number of times with little success. What else could I do? My mind went to some of the books I had read concerning tracing problems on diesel engines. Other than the glow plugs which heat the fuel before it goes into the cylinders there was no electrical ignition system. The obvious thing would be to check the fuel. I had had a problem when a sliver of metal blocked the outlet from the day tank but that had been removed. Was there another one? I popped the fuel line off at the motor and found it blocked. I removed the fuel line from the fuel filter and the fuel flowed freely. Blowing the fuel line released a teaspoon or two of gel. The fuel was old and had been lying in the tank for some time. It had started to solidify. I flushed the line until it flowed freely before restoring it. The motor sprang in to life at my first attempt to get it going. I was lucky that the gel hadn’t got into the fuel pump and injectors. The motor ran considerably brighter now.

 

Although I had managed to clear the fuel line and get the motor going within less than an hour, the episode was reminiscent of an earlier attempt to motor to the Bluff Yacht Club.  We chugged off towards the Silt Canal, relieved that we would be able to have nice hot showers and relax in front of a TV soon. When we arrived at the Bluff Yacht Club, I was told to tie up on the new jetty where we had electricity and water at our disposal. We shared the jetty with Bruce and Beget on Irene. Bruce and Biget are accomplished yachties having visited Madagascar annualy over the past 17 years and have a few stories to tell.

 

The first thing Dylan wanted was to disappear. He had evidently developed a fear of the Yacht Club during our time there in 1996. He had his surf board off in no time and borrowed the bicycle to peddle down to Ansteys or Brighton beach. It was long after dark when I saw him again. I wondered if I would ever see him again but he appeared out of the darkness well after 19:00. He was walking and made excuses saying he had left the bike with the lifeguards because he had got a lift. By the end of the week it was clear that the bike had been stolen and wouldn’t be coming back. Ah, the joys of adventure!

Relieved to be on land again, I wandered around the club chatting to some of the faces I saw in the yard. That is how I met Frenchy, one of the older surfers from Durban who had become quite famous for his “WAR” surfboards before Max Wetteland had come onto the scene. Graham Hinds of Safari surf shop had also contribured to his demise. Frenchy told me that he had bought his boat in the Cape and sailed her up to Durban recently. At this time she was on the hard at the Bluff where he was doing some repair work but taking it slow. After telling him that I had a problem with the autopilot he offered to take me in to a hardware store where I could get some threaded bar and sealant with which I firmly bolted the ram base to the hull.

 

The rest of the week was largely uneventful. We enjoyed a Wednesday night braai, spent some time in the bar and watched TV in the lounge.

 

Dylan and Charlotte spent a lot of their time on the beach or with friends whom they had met at the beach.  A friend came to visit and stayed over, evidently attracted by Charlotte. It was difficult but I eventually managed to get rid of him. A nice enough guy he was evidently into drugs and had a dream which didn’t agree with him.

 

By Thursday the following week I was ready to head back to Richards Bay. In retrospect I should have continued on to Cape Town. The motor was starting readily since the sludge had been cleared from the fuel line and Charlotte could go to school in Cape Town, which she had visited by bus while we were in Mtata. At the end of the day things are what they are and there’s no going back, but we went back to Richards Bay where Charlotte would finish her schooling and a post Gr 12 Diploma in Beauty Therapy at a reputable Beauty school. Dylan also managed to finish school there and got a job with a friend in the friends surf shop.

 

After bidding our friends at the Bluff Yacht Club goodbye we motored to the Durban Marina where I took a temporary mooring. I dropped the flight plan at the Portnet offices, a half hour walk along the Victoria Embankment. I had decided to do the trip through the day and left  at about six am on the Friday morning. Rousing Port Control at that time of day seems to be problematic as it is the time that there is a change of shift. I went about twice while waiting for a reply before sailing back towards the Marina at which stage I noticed the huge private motor yacht which belonged to Bill Gates moored against a Northern wharf. I guess it must be fun motoring about the high seas but I’m not in that category of sailor. I was beginning to think that there was something wrong with my radio but it tested fine against my handheld, A voice eventually crackled to life, giving me permission to leave Port. I was to let him know when I crossed the bar. Now I wonder where the bar is as it is not marked on the chart. I would imagine that it is a hypothetical position based on where the bar of sand which sealed the harbour would have been in the early days of Durban harbour. As it was I skipped calling it in and was called by an irate control officer asking me to keep to port of the incoming ship.  Why hadn;t I called in when crossing the bar? I agreed but informed him that I had not seen a bar as Thirsty’s had been knocked down and I wasn’t aware of any other bars.

 

The day was overcast amd cool but it did not rain. I followed the shore line passing a number of ski boats on their way out. I thought Dylan had roused the crew of a passing boat asking them about the days fishing. It wasn’t long and he asked me if we were going to put a line in the water. I wasn’t feeling very excited about fishing as it complicates things but told him to get the rod. As long as I have someone to help me I won’t compromise my sailing ability. Dylan got the line in the water and I helped him secure the rod in the rod holder. Sailing along at about 7 knots with a squid lure it wasn’t long before the Penn reel screamed murder. Dylan had the rod in his hands and in no time was reeling in a smallish Skipjack tuna. I helped him land it which implied putting it on the stainless steel braai on the Pushpit and closing the lid on it. The lure wasn’t firmly imbedded in the fish but had hooked itself through the louvers near the fishes mouth, rendering it easily removed and returned to the water. Half an hour later we had a second one. About an hour later we caught two more but that was all that our great benefactor offered us. These were the first and last fish that I had caught from my yacht while sailing. I will have to keep working at it to catch something more impressive. Perhaps Dylan will be there.

 

Being a day sail there was a lot to be seen along the coast. The south-westerly wind wasn’t very strong but we enjoyed a fast sail back to Richards Bay where we dropped anchor in the Bay near the Zululand Yacht Club trot moorings. I used the rubber duck to head for shore where we could clean up etc. We were told that there were hippos in the water near our anchorage. When we returned to the boat I had to be careful to maneuver around a cow and two calves, Through the night she came up close to the stern where she bared her large molars. It was about a week before she moved on. We also moved on and went to the Tuzi Gazi Marina where we stayed until the following November.