NORTHWARDS UP THE RED SEA

Ralph Featherstone

Valiant Lady, a 40ft cutter-rigged sloop, was in the penultimate stages of a three year circumnavigation by the time she reached Aden in early March 1992.)

I had never intended sailing singlehanded, all against the rules of the sea and my insurance policy, but when my young Dutch and American crew left me in October 1991 at Port Kelang, Malaysia, I had been unable to find new crew and had no alternative but to continue solo. All had gone well up the Mallaca Straits to Thailand, across the Bay of Bengal to Sri Lanka and Cochin, India, and on across the Arabian Sea to Salahla in Oman. Now here I was approaching Aden, the jumping off point for the notorious Red Sea.

It was 0200 on Sunday 1st March when I dropped the hook in a very crowded Aden harbour. It had been a difficult approach with lights and obstacles galore plus a fresh north-easterly wind, and I was thinking about anchoring off and making a daylight approach when out of the darkness a launch appeared manned by rough looking young men jabbering away and waving their arms. Before I realised it two of them were on board Valiant Lady, gesticulating wildly but all smiles. I relaxed a little, and within half an hour they'd dropped the anchor for me, jumped back on their pilot launch and sped away into the blackness. I poured a large scotch and collapsed into my bunk.

One of the things about a round the world trip is the great camaraderie built up between yachtsmen, always ready to help each other. So it was that at 1000 John and Goodrin from Speedwell, friends from many previous anchorages, came over with fresh bread and grapefruit, a welcome to Aden. They also had advice on clearing customs and using a guide -- they'd found Abdul who spoke good English and remembered the `good days' when the Brits were here! Next came John and Jennie of Starwave, last seen in Thailand, who'd reached Aden via the Maldives. I had first met them on the Australian Barrier Reef in June 1991. These and many others were my companions across the seas, for every day at a pre-arranged time and radio frequency was chat time when we'd all tune in, maybe just to listen but often to pick up useful information on anchorages etc. I seldom felt completely alone.

However there is some danger in this radio togetherness, in that we can talk ourselves into a state of worry. Take this forthcoming passage up the Red Sea. There were twelve yachts at anchor in Aden, ten going north and just two that had recently come south. Both were euphoric about their wonderful, fast, downwind passages, often with 30-35 knots of wind out of the north. Their good luck was bad news for us. Over the radio came stories of one yacht being arrested for going near the coast of Ethiopia, another with a porthole stove in, and others having a hard windward bash.

The Red Sea is approximately 1000 miles in length and 200 miles wide, with coral reefs to port and starboard often extending well out to sea, and is prone to dust storms that can reduce visibility like a bad fog. For 90 percent of the year the wind blows from the north, but there is a spell, usually in March, when there may be a south or south-east wind for the first 400 miles. Some 150 merchant vessels a day pass up and down this seaway, to say nothing of oil and gas rigs in the northern part. Understandably this passage is viewed with some trepidation, certainly for a singlehander, which I was fated to be as I'd just had a call from the UK to say that my friend Peter was unable to join me after all.

Speedwell having arrived in Aden a week before me was ready to leave on Tuesday 3rd March and we waved them off. It's only ninety miles due west to the Straits of Bab el Mandeb, the bottleneck entrance to the Red Sea, but she never got that far. Encountering a strong north-north-west wind and rough seas when still ten miles short, John was putting a reef in the main when it split from top to bottom. He turned back to Aden and on Wednesday morning I woke up to see Speedwell anchored nearby. Fortunately Ging Seng was still in port, for skipper Derek is a sailmaker with a heavy-duty sewing machine on board, and two days later Speedwell was ready for off again. So also were Valiant Lady, Merry Dancer and Timana, the latter two being Australian yachts sailed by good husband and wife teams, and on Thursday 5th March these four yachts set off for the Red Sea, probable next stop Port Sudan some 600 miles to the north.

Whilst in Aden I had learnt that at this time of year a strong easterly wind will get up approximately every ten to fourteen days and last maybe a week before returning to a light northerly. This is the moment to leave and we simply shot down to the Straits of Bab el Mandeb, going through the narrows at 0400. At we turned north so the wind funnelled into the Strait, becoming south-easterly. Merry Dancer was just ahead but I'd lost sight of the other two yachts.

We sailed on for the next four days with a fair wind blowing 15-30 knots and always a lot of merchant ships around. Then one day I was nearly the sandwich filling between two tankers. The north-going ship was well clear of me to starboard, but the south-bound one was approaching perilously close from port when suddenly she turned night across my bows and came down my starboard side, less than 500 metres away. My heart missed a beat. She was, appropriately, called Surprise Express!

By the fourth day I'd lost Merry Dancer. I couldn't call her because she did not have an HF radio, but I heard that Starwave was 100 miles ahead in very light airs. Timana was well over to the west, heading for an anchorage on the Sudanese coast -- skipper Geoff was suffering from a recurrence of an old leg problem so wanted to rest up and get a good night's sleep.

After my fright with Surprise Express I had become slightly paranoid about every passing merchant vessel, so when yet another one came up astern very fast and aiming straight for me I put out a radio call: "Tanker, tanker, heading 320in approximate latitude 17North, this is the yacht on your bow. Come in please". A very English voice promptly came back: "Good morning sir. Yes, we've got you in our sights, no worry". We enjoyed a good chat and he gave me an optimistic weather forecast, that we'd probably enjoy fair winds until about 100 miles from Port Sudan -- fantastic! Then "Anything we can do for you sir?" as she overtook me at 25 knots. "Yes, please would you call my wife; report my position and that all's well on board Valiant Lady". My grateful thanks to Cardigan Bay. It was definitely my lucky day, for not long after that I caught a lovely Spanish mackerel, one of the best eating fish going.

Early next morning, just woken up from a catnap (`Fred', my Aries wind vane was in charge), rubbing the sleep from my eyes and there, just half a mile astern, was Speedwell. They had decided against going into Port Sudan, now less than 100 miles away, but were going to join Starwave at anchor in a coral reef about ten miles north-east of the port.

True to Cardigan Bay's forecast the wind was now in the north, but only 15-20 knots. It was good sailing with a slight sea and after 5 1/2 days and with 685 miles on the log we anchored in Port Sudan. Valiant Lady and I had been lucky with the first half of the Red Sea. Already in port were Maria V from Finland, whom I'd last seen way back in the Pacific, and Moko Jumbi with American skipper Jim who'd had a really rough ride from Aden. He'd suffered a broken forestay and his unfortunate French Canadian crew Marcelle was knocked over by a big wave when on watch at 0200 and fell onto a winch, cracking her jaw and knocking several teeth out. She had to suffer this for the two days it took to make Port Sudan and from there flew back to Canada.

All the stories about officialdom here are true -- customs, immigration, Port Captain etc, etc. They keep your passport and ship's papers while you run from one office to another, spread all over the place, and the process wastes a whole day. Also it was Ramadan, which didn't help. However the exchange rate in the Sudan was £167 Sudanese for £1 sterling, which certainly makes one feel very rich.

I'd heard from Timani that Geoff was really in a bad way with his leg, which was very swollen and painful, and Karen was sailing the boat which was still a day away from port. Fortunately I'd discovered a travel firm called Ebonus -- the boss Ali and his right-hand man Omar were both very helpful and knew exactly what to do, not least how to bypass all this officialdom and get Geoff into hospital quickly on arrival. It was a small hospital especially for sick seamen and Karen was able to stay with him. Another two days at sea and Geoff would probably have been a gonner as the poison from his septic leg was getting into his system. Ten days later he was back on board Timani, hospitalisation and all treatment for just £300! Such kindness and generosity from people who have so little. I should also mention Captain John Dunn of the World Food Organisation for his great help and hospitality.

I'd been thinking about the next leg, some 530 miles up to Hurghada in Egypt. According to the pilot book it is possible to do this in day hops, anchoring each night in a marsa, or small bay behind the coral. However there's no shelter from the wind because the coast is just miles of sand dunes, and to enter a marsa one has to turn west, and doing that at 1700 means trying to negotiate coral with the sun in your eyes -- not advisable.

I left Port Sudan on Sunday 15th March, beating into 25-30 knots of wind under double-reefed main, yankee and staysail. There is only about three miles between shoreline and outer reef so it was tack, tack and tack again. By 1600 I thought I was abeam of Marsa Arus, but because of the sun in my eyes could not see the entrance, so sailed on another four miles to Marsa Fijab, where there was just one beacon and a fishing boat at anchor. Nevertheless it was a hairy approach, my anchor dragged, we touched bottom, and I had to start the engine, weigh anchor and try again -- success and a night's sleep.

Early start next morning, very cool and full foul weather gear. By 1300 I'd only made good twelve miles and Marsa Arakiyai was coming up. This was well buoyed and there was even a small hill to the north giving some shelter, so we went in and at 1600 Maria V arrived. I reviewed my position and decided that this marsa-hopping was not for me -- far too dangerous, I'd be better off out at sea. At 0600 I weighed anchor; no sign of life aboard Maria V. Just five miles further north there was a gap in the outer reef and I went through with a great sense of relief, even though I'd only swapped one hazard for another. Now the sea was rougher, we had cargo vessels to contend with and oil and gas rigs to come, but the freedom of the open sea and no coral to worry about.

For the next five days we beat and tacked our way north. Wind strengths were 20 to 30 knots most of the time but thankfully eased off at night. Valiant Lady loved it and sailed really well. I caught another Spanish mackerel and enjoyed my regular radio chats, though one of these nearly resulted in disaster while I was below talking with Jim of Moko Jumbi. I knew there was a gas rig ahead and noticed the echo sounder dropping. With a "Must go Jim, gas rig ahead" I leapt up into the cockpit and looked around -- no gas rig. Looked astern -- there was the rig -- we'd sailed right past it whilst I was below, leaving it only 100 metres to port. A close shave!

Meanwhile Speedwell was enjoying day sailing and putting into a marsa every night, but they had three advantages: radar, the latest GPS navigator and good crew. There's also a third alternative, as demonstrated by Dickie and Pat in their Hallberg Rassy 49 Molly Brown -- with a powerful engine and big fuel capacity, just motor north straight into it! Sleep is the greatest problem of the singlehander, particularly in Red Sea conditions, and my main tactic at night was to get on port tack heading north-east on the east side of the shipping lane. Fortunately I've always been a good catnapper and, knowing the nearest land was 100 miles away, I'd maybe have two hours' sleep, but that was the longest period in five days and nights. On 23rd March, seven days after leaving Port Sudan, we thankfully anchored outside the Sheraton Hotel at Hurghada, Egypt, having sailed 700 miles to windward to make good 530 miles.

I spent a week here exploring inland, and on Tuesday 31st March left Hurghada for the last 180 miles up the Gulf of Suez to Port Suez and the Canal. Soon the wind was up to 30 knots and after only twenty-five miles I decided to put into Endeavour harbour, a coral reef lagoon in the middle of the Straits of Gubal which gives good shelter. We bashed on northwards through Wednesday and Thursday, but the wind rose to 35 knots, my mainsail split, and progress became very slow. Speedwell and Molly Brown were at anchor in Marsa Thelamet only ten miles ahead, which I reached at 0630 on Friday morning, thankful for a rest. The wind kept up for two days, and as it was too rough to launch the dinghy and go visiting I attempted a sail repair but it was a big job.

At 0530 on Monday, with the wind down to 15 knots, it was time to set off on the last fifty miles to Suez. By afternoon the Red Sea at last relented, the wind died, and it was engine on with just twenty miles to go -- could I make it before dark? I couldn't, and by 2200, though not far from Suez, I was completely lost in a maze of lights and just considering anchoring, when a launch came alongside from which a man jumped aboard and introduced himself as Abdul, an official agent. My good friend John had informed him that I was on the way. There's tremendous rivalry between agents to get your business, which includes booking the passage through the Canal, arranging pilots and so on. The two principal agencies are Abdul and his brother, known as `The Prince of the Red Sea'. These two are daggers drawn and will do anything to get each others' trade, which is why Abdul was out in a launch looking for Valiant Lady. He proved very good and helpful during the week I spent there.

Two days later Ging Seng arrived, and Derek agreed to repair my mainsail while I set off inland to see the sights of Cairo. (Suez is a very good, secure place to leave a boat.) Abdul had arranged my Canal transit, and at 0800 on Monday 13th April my pilot came aboard, another Abdul, a big, dour and rather miserable man who could only prattle on about his `pressie' all day -- in Egypt backsheesh rules. The Canal passage is uninteresting as no sailing is allowed, no stopping, no view as it's just sand banks on both sides, and no locks -- just a big ditch between two seas. At 1700 we reached an anchorage at Ismailia and a launch came out to take Abdul off. I gave him £10 sterling and two packets of cigarettes but he was clearly dissatisfied.

Next morning my second pilot was brought out, a small, smiling man called Abdullah Alli, a chain-smoker and ex-merchant navy captain. We had a good day together though he proved to be an alcoholic and was rather unsteady as he got off Valiant Lady. He was sixty-four, with four wives and nine children all living under the same roof! When, about two miles from Port Said, I noticed the engine overheating I said we'd have to stop, but Abdullah said "not allowed". There was no shipping about and I said "Just ten minutes, please?". Imagine my horror when I found water pouring from the bottom of the freshwater header tank! I had to do something, for stories of charges for towing are quite horrendous, so topped up the water tank, stuffed some rag around the bottom, started up, and prayed that we'd make the last two miles.

Half an hour later we came alongside and dropped the pilot off, only to be told that we could not stay there but had to continue another half mile to a yacht anchorage on the starboard side. It was already 1700 and I had hoped to get away into the Mediterranean before dark, but it seemed that this was not to be, as on taking the freshwater tank off I found the bottom peppered with holes due to electrolysis. A good clean with a wire brush showed the damage to be worse than ever, but fibreglass and resin with plenty of hardener for a quick set worked wonders and at 1900, with engine going okay, I weighed anchor and set off for Cyprus just over 200 miles to the north.

This proved to be an uneventful leg, and at 2000 on Thursday 16th April we anchored in Larnaca's outer harbour. The next day dawned bright and clear and I awoke to the sound of church bells -- it was Good Friday and never have I been so delighted to hear that lovely sound, especially after so many months of the wailing call to Allah and prayer.

So ends my Red Sea passage. It was a great challenge that I wouldn't have missed, and though I was luckier than some it's good to have it behind me.

"Valiant Lady Out".