Good Hope: The Long Way

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Photo by: David Pollard Illustration

Once under way for Durban, I felt at times that I had covered the same stage before. The sea had shaken itself free of the morass of words, and I was reliving a journey already made, reading in advance the Indian Ocean’s tidings.

The next day's sight shows 164 miles covered. Joshua is 70 miles inside of iceberg limit, but she has reached the 40th parallel, and can now head NE to leave the ice area by tomorrow, while staying away from the current convergence.

The sky is covered with a lot of flattened cumulus, real fair-weather clouds for these latitudes, with sometimes large sweeps of blue, almost empty of cirrus. The wind, force 6 since dawn, has veered WNW. This shift worries me a little, especially as I was not able to get the weather report. But the barometer is steady; that is the main thing. The sea is very beautiful, meaning very heavy. On the other hand, breaking seas are few and generally not too large.

I spent most of last night in the cockpit again, because of the broken red line on the Pilot Chart showing the iceberg limit. This second sleepless night has not tired me. Still, it is about time I got out of here, otherwise my supply of tobacco and coffee will not last the trip! Joshua is doing 7 knots; at that rate we should soon be over the line.

I wonder if my apparent lack of fatigue could be a kind of hypnotic trance born of contact with this great sea, giving off so many pure forces, rustling with the ghosts of all the beautiful sailing ships that died around here and now escort us. I am full of life, like the sea I contemplate so intensely. I feel it watching me as well, and that we are nonetheless friends.

I made two serious mistakes today; my first since the beginning of the trip. I had just observed the meridian. Instead of stowing the sextant immediately, as I always do in these latitudes, I just boxed it, and wedged the in a corner of the cockpit: it was very important that I trim the sails a little before going below---a matter of a few seconds. Actually, it could easily have waited.

I was busy taking up slack in the mizzen preventer when a fairly large breaking sea crowned the rudder. I gauge it out of the corner of my eye, and pull myself up by the shrouds, knees tucked under my chin to avoid getting soaked as the wave flows over the aft cabin and fills the cockpit; the sextant is afloat.

Luckily, I had not snapped on my harness, and am barefoot and extra mobile. I dive for the sextant before the next roll carries it overboard along with three-quarters of the water flooding the cockpit. I am already in the cabin, both proud and ashamed of my double stunt.

I take the sextant out of its case, and wipe it off, and wedge it with pillows on the port berth. ‘You barely made it old pal.’ The case has to be rinsed inside to get rid of the salt, which would absorb moisture from the air and soon spoil the silver on the mirrors.

I light the stove to dry the case on an asbestos pad over a low flame, and go on deck to take a second reef in the main and mizzen, and a reef in the staysail. The wind is still WNW, now blowing a steady force 7. For this region it is still fair-weather sky.

When I go below again, the sextant case, while not exactly burning, is certainly dry now! I turn off the stove, remove boots, harness and oilskins, wipe off my hands, face and neck, put on my slippers and roll myself a cigarette. A spot of coffee? Why not! God, it’s good to be inside when things are roaring out there.

I am pleased with the way I had shortened the sail: quick reflexes, good grip. The staysail came along without any fuss when I reefed it, swallowing 75 sp. ft at a gulp.

I smoke, musing over the chart. Joshua is behaving beautifully under so little canvas, with almost not yawning in spite of her speed. Tomorrow we will be far away: 180 miles? 190? The Pilot Chart gives a knot favorable current for the area, so we could well break though the 200 mile ceiling if the wind holds. I am not tired; I have never been tired.

So, Joshua we are taking Good Hope in our stride.