AROUND THE SOUTHERN CORNER

Hazel and Bill Perkes

(Hazel wrote from Hout Bay near Cape Town early in the New Year to report Sherpa Bill's successful rounding of the Cape of Good Hope -- originally known as the Cape of Storms.)

At last we are around the corner, resting and enjoying the very dramatic landscape at the Cape and the company of old sailing friends gathered here. The sail from Darwin across the Indian Ocean was good, with magic stops at remote and magic places.

But to start at the beginning of the leg: August 1993 and Richard Crossley joined us as arranged way back in England in '91. We set off in a blow, needing all the wind we could get to clear the notorious calms in the lee of the north Australian coast, but we still had to motor for nearly forty hours in a sea so flat the men just had to dive in for a swim where the bottom was 3 1/2 miles straight down! Then we picked up a breeze and a few days later, to our great surprise, spotted a yacht. It was Allure, with Marilyn and Colin Ford from Cowes. As we saw no other ships at all on this passage it was a real treat to meet old friends so far from land.

We enjoyed our stay on Christmas Island, where everyone made us so welcome. The island is the top of a `sea mountain' standing in 17,000 feet of ocean and the only anchorage is on a very narrow ledge in Flying Fish Cove. It is untenable in bad weather so we were fortunate to have a few days of calms before we were off again.

Cocos Keeling will forever remain one of the highlights of our trip. The biggest atoll in the world, I believe, and in contrast to Christmas Island only 12 feet above sea level. And just a few cruising yachts to enjoy the superb facilities provided by the Australians. You anchor off Direction Island -- which is now deserted save for the rats and large land crabs -- where we found a large shelter with tables and benches, sun loungers, barbecue fires and wood to use, solar panels for nights ashore, a pit in which to burn rubbish (with fuel provided as well), tanks that collect water for washing clothes, and even a clothes line and toilets. Each yacht passing through leaves a name plaque and it was fascinating to see the names of so many that we knew. Sherpa Bill now hangs alongside Blackjack. It is the most beautiful anchorage -- clear water, golden beaches, a reef close by providing fish for dinner, and coconuts in plenty. Once a week a boat collected us all and took us to the mainland -- ie. West Island -- for a day's shopping. A bus met us at the ferry quay and took us to the farm for fresh fruit and vegetables and then on into town for the supermarket and post office. We lunched at the Malay Cafe at the airport and were taken back by bus to the quay. The ride back across the eight miles of lagoon in a high speed rescue launch was a trip we will all remember. And all this was free! The police patrol boat even brought mail out to us in between times. We were very sorry indeed to leave Cocos, and it was truly a parting of the ways as many boats were heading north towards Suez while we were off to South Africa.

Our next stop was Rodriguez, a distance of 1992 miles. We averaged 6.23 knots which was great. One of the joys of this leg was sighting birds every day -- gannets, albatrosses, shearwaters and petrels. Dolphins too, and seals near the coast. Rodriguez is really `foreign' and the few visiting yachts all appreciated the mixture of eastern and western cultures, with French cuisine, mosques, open air markets and tiny dark doorways inside which we discovered friendly families selling all manner of wonderful smelling spices, cheap watches and electrical goods, along with shoes, materials and sweets. In the corner would be a 'fridge with ice cream, butter, tomatoes, fruit and cold drinks. (No milk -- no cows). One evening a few of us dined out and were entertained by the local people with music and dancing, and were impressed with their dainty footwork. Each island has its own style of dance and it is interesting to compare one with another.

A shorter sail brought us to Mauritius and we were pleased once more to anchor in clear blue water, in a sheltered bay with easy access to fresh water, shops and markets. We toured the island by bus, visiting the volcanic crater and the coloured sands (not nearly as impressive as Alum Bay on the Isle of Wight!) and enjoyed a visit to the Bird Park where we saw birds which we had not known existed. A worldwide conference of French-speaking nations was being held at a hotel on the bay, and we enjoyed watching the numerous comings and goings with the resultant chaos on the very narrow and winding roads, mainly caused by over-anxious traffic police trying to cope with the hundreds of delegates and attendant security vans, motor cycles, press vans and police outriders. Great fun!

Richard decided it was time to return home to college -- we wish him every success and miss the Chinese Chequers competitions. Twenty-four hours later we were on the French island of Reunion, a tiny gem in the ocean with the most beautiful girls, lovely houses with cool wide verandahs, shutters and heavy lace in their windows, pretty gardens full of flowering trees, steep narrow streets, church steeples and a luxury bus service beyond compare.

Then we gritted our teeth and set off for South Africa on what we feared could be one of the worst passages of the circumnavigation. We headed south, out of the friendly trades in which we had enjoyed over 6000 miles of favourable and predictable winds. We had an adverse current for longer than expected and experienced a couple of gales before rounding Madagascar, keeping 150 miles south to avoid the dangerous continental shelf. Then on across the Mozambique Channel towards Richards Bay. The wind increased as we neared the land and for the first time ever Bill heard me say, "Keep blowing. Don't stop now". This was because we had been warned of the dreadful conditions that can occur near the 100 fathom line where the current can run up to 5 knots in a south-westerly direction. If the wind is north-easterly -- ie. favourable -- this is no problem, but if it suddenly switches to south-west, against the current, it can set up some of the most dangerous wave patterns in the world. And suddenly is the word. The speed with which the wind changes direction is very alarming, and in less than 30 minutes it can go from north-east 25-30 knots to south-west 20-40 knots.

Bill went off watch, telling me to wake him at once if the wind veered or died. I was confident that neither would happen as we were roaring along in favourable north-easterly winds of 35-30 knots. Over the infamous 100 fathom line (which is 10 miles offshore), then two miles further on and someone turned the wind OFF. Nothing. No gradual diminishing. Just OFF. Never has the engine been switched on so fast. Never has it had to work so hard. We could see ships at anchor off the harbour entrance and called up Port Control: "Come in. HURRY. No visibility here due to heavy rain and you may find it hard to pick up the leading lights. Gale imminent". The whole 12hp worked overtime. We crossed our fingers. It was midnight, the street lights went hazy in the rain, but we picked up the leading lights and just as we got through the breakwater the south-westerly gale hit -- and hit hard. We said a big `Thank you'. Several friends did not make it in time; one spent two days hove-to in 50 knots and the other several days being driven further and further away from port. From Richards Bay we visited a Game Park, and were thrilled to see so many wild animals -- everything from lizards to kudu, crocodiles to wildebeesties, rhino, giraffe and zebra. Wonderful.

The Agulhas Current is its name, and I have long dreaded it and the whole passage around South Africa. One overnight sail from Richards Bay to Durban, wind from the north at 25 knots. No problem. Durban International Quay was full and life fun with lunch each day at the Point Yacht Club where Bill played chess and I sewed. We toured the sights and hated the never-ending police sirens. We heard gunfire. A bus was blown up near the post office. We saw demonstrations. But we got lots of helpful advice about the weather conditions along the coast from a local sailing school and when the experts said `Go, leave now' we went. Six hours later it blew 50 knots against us. We returned to Durban. Next time, with the barometer as high as it could go and in company with several other yachts, we headed offshore about fifteen miles to get the benefit of the Agulhas Current. At times our GPS registered more than 11 knots over the ground as the current carried us south-west along the coast. During the second night we had a severe north-easterly blow and next morning entered Port Elizabeth. Distance: 400 miles in fifty-eight hours, at nearly 7 knots.

On to Knysna, entering under radioed instructions from the shore. The entrance is frightening, being very narrow and twisting with huge rocks, breakers and cliffs. I was on the cockpit sole with the hand-held VHF, relaying orders to Bill and listening to him saying, "Hold on, this is a big one. Are you sure he said go East?" and then "We're through." Relief.

A steam train ride through the mountains by the sea, across the lagoon and lunch at the Yacht Club, a visit to the carnival, and three days later we headed out at dawn, just before the entrance was once again closed -- too dangerous. So Mossel Baai, and with more gales against us we stopped for Christmas and on Boxing Day set off and enjoyed two perfect days' sailing around Cape Agulhas and the tip of South Africa. We crossed False Bay and passed the Cape of Good Hope under a full moon, clear skies making it a truly memorable passage. But at 0200 we came to Hout Bay and as we entered under the shadow of the mountains were struck by severe squalls of up to 50 knots. The water turned white as squall after squall tore across the bay. We turned back out to sea, had a cup of coffee in the calm outside, and at dawn returned and tied up in the marina.

We plan to sail north to St Helena, cross to Fernando de Noronha island off Brazil and then on to the West Indies. We hope to be in the Grenadines by mid-March.