My first sight of Kyrenia included the spectacular castle guarding the old harbour. Unfortunately check-in formalities dictated that I sailed passed the beautiful old harbour and made my way instead into the non-descript commercial harbour. With no other yachts in the basin it wasn't initially clear where the marina was, however soon a couple of boat-yard staff directed me to moor Mediterranean style (stern-to) onto the wharf. The strong westerly breeze added extra challenge to my reversing attempts, and the marine life covering the laid mooring line (and soon my clothes and the deck) indicated that it had spent the winter unused on the bottom. Still with no damage done I was whisked off into the bowels of the passenger terminal to complete my arrival. I'd chosen Northern Cyprus as I planned to catch up with some old friends who had moved here and I hoped I'd find a good selection of reasonably priced flights back to the UK. Once checked-in, I wandered around in a daze mostly feeling exhausted but with a creeping sense of achievement at arriving in the Mediterranean in good time to make it back for my sister's wedding.
Amanda and family promised they'd be with me in 40 minutes and looking round the boat, I released it was in no condition to impress anyone but the roughest old salt. My energy returned as I tried to make Kika respectable and fortunately 40 minutes turned into 90 minutes which even allowed me to make some humous, though apparently I missed the dusting...
One disadvantage of Mediterranean mooring is the precarious route onto and off the boat. I found a gang plank lying around the boat yard, which helped a little, but the route onto the boat was still an awkward balancing act between the wind-steering, wind-generator, outboard and stern rail. The younger members of the Saurin family managed the moving obstacle course without drama but it proved more of a challenge for Amanda and Conne. Once they'd inspected my floating abode we all piled into the family transport to visit their slightly more solid home.
With plenty of time before the wedding I decided I'd take the opportunity to haul Kika out and give her hull a much needed clean as well as another coat of anti-fouling. The next day we headed back to the yard and manoeuvred Kika into the obstacle-lined haul-out dock. Even though the travel-lift was rated at 30 tonnes, it was by far the smallest lift I'd used and looking around the yard I suddenly realised I would be one of the bigger boats they had hauled. Still they weren't taking any chances and sent their best man into the water to check the positioning of the travel-lift slings. He decided to combine the safety checks with an octopus hunt and went into the water armed with a spear-gun, but surfaced without lunch though satisfied the slings were correctly positioned. My feeling about the relative size of Kika and the boat-yard was confirmed when I had to remove the back-stay to allow Kika to be lifted without taking-out the rigging and then once ashore, found they didn't have a cradle large enough for me, but instead improvised by welding two half cradles together around Kika.
Soon the list of jobs multiplied and my anticipated leisurely haul-out turned into the familiar boat-yard scrabble to complete the jobs in time. The deadline this time was the arrival of a friend, Mark, at the start of the second week of May.
In the end I boarded the flight back to the UK looking forward to a holiday from the holiday...
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Ferocious squalls
After an easy night of alternating calms and light breezes the benign weather abruptly finished at midday, since then I've had one squall after another, each one trying to outdo the previous one in its ferocity. I caught sight of the lights of Cyprus just before dawn and saw land briefly this morning before it rapidly vanished in a cloud of rain. My drunken track from Egypt tells the tale of the variety of wind directions I've had. Hopefully tonight the wind will behave as forecast and will blow me towards Kyrenia without overtaxing my doubly-reefed main and small genoa.A couple of birds hitched a ride today, trying to find shelter from the worst of the weather. By the time I found something I thought might nourish them, they'd either flown off or been washed away - I hope it wasn't the latter.The radar alarm has been warning me of impeding squalls rather than other boats, though after a few hours of the alarm sounding every 10 minutes I silenced it - I didn't need radar to see the rain approaching.
So much for all my cleaning in Ismailia. I don't know if the spray is reaching parts I failed to reach with the hose, or if the northern wind is bringing sand from arid areas of Turkey. Whatever the reason Kika looks like she's spent the winter down-wind from a sand-blaster ... again.
I should reach Kyrenia tomorrow morning and not before time as tonight doesn't look like I'll get much of a rest.
21:45, 14/4/09: N35deg42' E32deg18'
So much for all my cleaning in Ismailia. I don't know if the spray is reaching parts I failed to reach with the hose, or if the northern wind is bringing sand from arid areas of Turkey. Whatever the reason Kika looks like she's spent the winter down-wind from a sand-blaster ... again.
I should reach Kyrenia tomorrow morning and not before time as tonight doesn't look like I'll get much of a rest.
21:45, 14/4/09: N35deg42' E32deg18'
Monday, April 13, 2009
Not setting any records
I'm not setting any records for speed, but so far it's been a great reintroduction to the joys of sailing. The wind veered helpfully during the day allowing me to head further east towards Cyprus. Still plenty of boats around, the radar alarm has been busy alerting me all day. Hope it quietens down a little tonight.
I finished off my Egyptian delicacies in the first day, and they seem to have revived my sweet tooth. Today I converted some oats, butter, sugar, eggs, cocoa and various other minor ingredients into some chocolate oat cookies. Not sure they'll last until Kyrenia though.
Position @ 19:00 13/4/2009: N34deg36' E31deg30'
I finished off my Egyptian delicacies in the first day, and they seem to have revived my sweet tooth. Today I converted some oats, butter, sugar, eggs, cocoa and various other minor ingredients into some chocolate oat cookies. Not sure they'll last until Kyrenia though.
Position @ 19:00 13/4/2009: N34deg36' E31deg30'
First day in the Med
After the stormy start, fortunately the wind and seas have moderated. I've gone from heavily reefed main and genoa to the treat of full sails. My forecast indicates that the wind should be E/SE so far I've been close-hauled, beating into a NE/N wind, taking me west of my rhumb-line. Still even if the wind doesn't veer to the east, I can always tack and I'm still savouring my almost silent progress across the water after much too much use of the engine in the Red Sea.
Unsurprisingly the shipping was dense around Port Said, giving me a sleepless night. Yesterday the VHF was alive for most of the day, with NATO warships calling vessels (they're carrying out some kind of exercise in the area), the Israeli navy proactively calling any boats remotely approaching their waters and the usual banter between ships at sea. Fortunately the traffic on the VHF disappeared at dusk and I seemed to escape most of the shipping, allowing me to catch-up on some sleep.
As usual I left with the boat overflowing with fresh fruit and veg and it's always a challenge in the first few days to eat my fresh stores before they go off. Yesterday I stuffed myself with the kilo of strawberries I bought from the excellent market in Ismailia...
Position @ 6.30 13/4/2009: N33deg51' E31deg05'
Unsurprisingly the shipping was dense around Port Said, giving me a sleepless night. Yesterday the VHF was alive for most of the day, with NATO warships calling vessels (they're carrying out some kind of exercise in the area), the Israeli navy proactively calling any boats remotely approaching their waters and the usual banter between ships at sea. Fortunately the traffic on the VHF disappeared at dusk and I seemed to escape most of the shipping, allowing me to catch-up on some sleep.
As usual I left with the boat overflowing with fresh fruit and veg and it's always a challenge in the first few days to eat my fresh stores before they go off. Yesterday I stuffed myself with the kilo of strawberries I bought from the excellent market in Ismailia...
Position @ 6.30 13/4/2009: N33deg51' E31deg05'
Sunday, April 12, 2009
300 miles to Kyrenia, northern Cyprus
Aboda my pilot eventually arrived and after a brief tangle with a mooring buoy and some remedial help from the French fleet we were off on the second leg of the trip up the canal and into the Mediterranean. As we headed north, the weather reminded me of a northern European spring - cold, overcast with occasional rain. Such weather seemed at odds with the desert scenery on either side of the canal, but I guess it was useful acclimatisation for my trip back to the UK.
Aboda tried my tea, then asked for coffee and then politely refused all offers of refreshments. It seems I need to raise my beverage preparation game if I'm to meet with approval from discerning Egyptian pilots. I was worried he was planning to remain unhydrated for the remaining three hours, but eventually he succumbed to another tea. Food was a different matter. I couldn't tempt him with one of my feta cheese and tapenade sandwiches or the various fruit I offered but when I bought out some Egpytian sweet cakes I bought from one of Ismailia's fabulous patisseries, his eyes lit up. Finally I'd cracked his resolve. You may ask, why the obsession with feeding and watering the pilot? Well imagine being branded as the boat where pilots expire, rumours spread quickly and I might struggle to find a pilot in the future, never-mind scaring away my anticipated Mediterranean visitors.
Finally at 5.30 we arrived in Port Said, a pilot boat came alongside and whisked Aboda away and left me once again in charge of Kika. As I headed towards the entrance and my first glimpse of the Mediterranean, it seemed the fishing fleet was heading back in for the night. A couple of fishermen ominously mimed big waves and pointed in the direction I was heading. It was either big waves or large sea-serpents I suppose it could be either as I'm heading for Greek mythology territory. I decided to head out and see how bad the waves or serpents were, thinking I could always return if they proved too nasty. The entrance wasn't great with large breaking seas caused by wind against tide - almost as bad as Ramsgate in a gale. However I pressed on and eventually the water calmed down and left me to worry about the shipping, oil rigs and fishing boats. At 12.30 I escaped the fishing fleet, cleared the shipping lanes and set a course off the west of Cyprus.
Position @ 12.30 12/4/2009: N31deg56' E32deg14'
Aboda tried my tea, then asked for coffee and then politely refused all offers of refreshments. It seems I need to raise my beverage preparation game if I'm to meet with approval from discerning Egyptian pilots. I was worried he was planning to remain unhydrated for the remaining three hours, but eventually he succumbed to another tea. Food was a different matter. I couldn't tempt him with one of my feta cheese and tapenade sandwiches or the various fruit I offered but when I bought out some Egpytian sweet cakes I bought from one of Ismailia's fabulous patisseries, his eyes lit up. Finally I'd cracked his resolve. You may ask, why the obsession with feeding and watering the pilot? Well imagine being branded as the boat where pilots expire, rumours spread quickly and I might struggle to find a pilot in the future, never-mind scaring away my anticipated Mediterranean visitors.
Finally at 5.30 we arrived in Port Said, a pilot boat came alongside and whisked Aboda away and left me once again in charge of Kika. As I headed towards the entrance and my first glimpse of the Mediterranean, it seemed the fishing fleet was heading back in for the night. A couple of fishermen ominously mimed big waves and pointed in the direction I was heading. It was either big waves or large sea-serpents I suppose it could be either as I'm heading for Greek mythology territory. I decided to head out and see how bad the waves or serpents were, thinking I could always return if they proved too nasty. The entrance wasn't great with large breaking seas caused by wind against tide - almost as bad as Ramsgate in a gale. However I pressed on and eventually the water calmed down and left me to worry about the shipping, oil rigs and fishing boats. At 12.30 I escaped the fishing fleet, cleared the shipping lanes and set a course off the west of Cyprus.
Position @ 12.30 12/4/2009: N31deg56' E32deg14'
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Ismailia
Ismailia has been a fantastically relaxing stop. The town itself seems a lot more peaceful than Suez and is well stocked with all the essentials - a decent supermarket (though still no bacon), a wonderful fruit/veg/meat market with mounds of strawberries, numerous Internet cafés, good cheap restaurants, stunning patissaries and the invaluable wide range of wedding dress shops. I spent my time repairing and cleaning Kika, including a couple of trips up the mast with the hose to clean off the Red Sea sand and salt. The lines are pliable once again and the boat well-stocked, including my first strawberries since New Zealand. As well as enjoying my time with Lasse, the the marina slowly filled up with other boats I've met up the Red Sea, including Rino, Vagabond Virgin and Kristiane as well as a couple of boats from the French fleet.
I'd planned to visit Cairo and the pyramids and my luck was in as I met a fantastically helpful, friendly taxi driver, Mohamed (0121538185) who took me on a whirlwind day-trip to the pyramids, around Cairo, and the incredible Cairo museum for a very fair price, and only spent 10 minutes trying to convert me to his religion - apparently converting a infidel is better than gaining one thousand red camels - the best camels.This gave me an excuse not to partake in the camel rides around the pyramids - why ride on a camel which isn't red, when you know it's not the best?
One of the oddities of Ismailia is the need to show your passport with Egyptian visa to the guards on the gate every time you venture into town. The guards also act to stop subsidised Egyptian filling-station diesel being brought back into the marina. However with no diesel available within the compound, I'm not sure if there is a legal way of obtaining fuel. One boat managed to bribe the guards and use a taxi to bring diesel from the filling station. However the guards caught another boat sneaking diesel in through the gate resulting in a substantial fine. We by-passed security and took a couple of dinghies across the bay, under a bridge and tied up by some party boats. The party boat hosts organised a tuk-tuk and we loaded our 18 diesel cans into the trailer and set off for the filling-station. The plan worked and undercover of dark we smuggled the diesel back onboard. Now if only we'd filmed our illicit trip, the resulting movie of our subdiffuse might have challenged "The Great Escape" for the slot of Christmas afternoon escape film.I'm writing this waiting for my pilot to arrive for the second half of the trip through the Suez Canal. Once I'm through I'm setting sail directly for Kyrenia - Northern Cyprus. The wind looks favourable so I'm keen to head-off ... where is a pilot when you need one ... ?
One of the oddities of Ismailia is the need to show your passport with Egyptian visa to the guards on the gate every time you venture into town. The guards also act to stop subsidised Egyptian filling-station diesel being brought back into the marina. However with no diesel available within the compound, I'm not sure if there is a legal way of obtaining fuel. One boat managed to bribe the guards and use a taxi to bring diesel from the filling station. However the guards caught another boat sneaking diesel in through the gate resulting in a substantial fine. We by-passed security and took a couple of dinghies across the bay, under a bridge and tied up by some party boats. The party boat hosts organised a tuk-tuk and we loaded our 18 diesel cans into the trailer and set off for the filling-station. The plan worked and undercover of dark we smuggled the diesel back onboard. Now if only we'd filmed our illicit trip, the resulting movie of our subdiffuse might have challenged "The Great Escape" for the slot of Christmas afternoon escape film.I'm writing this waiting for my pilot to arrive for the second half of the trip through the Suez Canal. Once I'm through I'm setting sail directly for Kyrenia - Northern Cyprus. The wind looks favourable so I'm keen to head-off ... where is a pilot when you need one ... ?
Monday, April 06, 2009
Suez Canal part 1: Suez - Ismailia
Yesterday turned out to be a real treat. Though the day began at 5am with little expectation other than a eventful-free transit. The night before I was entertaining Paddy and Carolyn from Kristane. At 10pm while the wine was still flowing there was a knock on the hull from the marina staff asking for payment - apparently my transit would be at 5am, not 10am as previously indicated. Still no reason to bring a good party to a premature end, but it did mean I was operating on automatic when my cheerful pilot Ashraf arrived in the pre-dawn hours of the morning.
There's some rule about yachts not being allowed in the canal at the same time as military convoys. We'd watched seemingly half the UK navy steaming south the day before and on my transit day it was the turn of the Italian navy. From what I understood the early start was so we could make it through before the warships, but talking to others it seems that last minute changes and unexpected early starts are the rule not the exception.
Once Ashraf was aboard it was quick, quick, engine on, lines untied and we were off. He seemed a little upset that I insisted on no more than 2000rpm giving us just over 5 knots and repeatedly returned to the subject as the other boats in the convoy overtook us. Communication was tricky, his English almost as limited as my Arabic, but I think he finally understood when I mimed no faster than 2200rpm otherwise BANG. Later when the wind shifted to the west I indicated that perhaps we could sail. He followed my lead and mimed that if he let me sail his throat would be cut.
I remember my Panamanian pilot being justifiably proud of his canal and dismissive of the Suez canal as a "mere ditch". It's true there isn't the excitement of the huge locks of Panama or the jungle scenery complete with howler monkeys, but the "ditch" is still an impressive undertaking and being passed by laded container ships in a narrow channel surrounded by desert sand has its own unique excitement.
We left with a favourable 10-15 knots from the south, but true to Red Sea form, with little warning the wind suddenly shifted to the north and increased to 20-25 knots which with the 2 knot favourable current brought nasty wind against tide short seas, slowing us and reignited Ashraf's desire to increase the revs - I stoically resisted.
After nine hours Ismailia, my half way stop, loomed into view. As we approached the marina I could make out two people jumping up and down and waving maniacally from the quay. Who could they be? I racked my brain for anyone who would be so excited to see me - surely they must have mistaken Kika for another boat, but no, as I approach I realised it was Ben and Corola and their two children Neils and Lisa from Lasse. What an unexpected treat we'd last seen each other in Thailand and hoped we'd be able to sail together in the Red Sea. The most unanticipated and best welcome I've had anywhere.
The remainder of the day was spent trying to piece Lasse's adventures since Thailand from the excited snippets I gathered from the children. Looks like I'll be staying here a few days, to catch-up with Lasse, clean Kika and see a little of inland Egypt before heading off to Cyprus.
6/4/09: Ismailia yacht club: N30deg35.1' E32deg16.4'
There's some rule about yachts not being allowed in the canal at the same time as military convoys. We'd watched seemingly half the UK navy steaming south the day before and on my transit day it was the turn of the Italian navy. From what I understood the early start was so we could make it through before the warships, but talking to others it seems that last minute changes and unexpected early starts are the rule not the exception.
I remember my Panamanian pilot being justifiably proud of his canal and dismissive of the Suez canal as a "mere ditch". It's true there isn't the excitement of the huge locks of Panama or the jungle scenery complete with howler monkeys, but the "ditch" is still an impressive undertaking and being passed by laded container ships in a narrow channel surrounded by desert sand has its own unique excitement.
After nine hours Ismailia, my half way stop, loomed into view. As we approached the marina I could make out two people jumping up and down and waving maniacally from the quay. Who could they be? I racked my brain for anyone who would be so excited to see me - surely they must have mistaken Kika for another boat, but no, as I approach I realised it was Ben and Corola and their two children Neils and Lisa from Lasse. What an unexpected treat we'd last seen each other in Thailand and hoped we'd be able to sail together in the Red Sea. The most unanticipated and best welcome I've had anywhere.
The remainder of the day was spent trying to piece Lasse's adventures since Thailand from the excited snippets I gathered from the children. Looks like I'll be staying here a few days, to catch-up with Lasse, clean Kika and see a little of inland Egypt before heading off to Cyprus.
6/4/09: Ismailia yacht club: N30deg35.1' E32deg16.4'
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Into Suez
I've made it to Suez, arriving yesterday evening just before sunset. After the challenging weather so far, yesterday's trip was almost disappointingly easy. Enough wind for the wind-steering to work, but not too much to build up a nasty sea. 
Good job I made it in when I did as I finished my last onions and potatoes while waiting for the weather to clear. Fortunately just as I was leaving the anchorage a fishing boat approached, promising to save me from my anticipated canned diet. I gave them some overly-sweet crackers, some baby milk powder that I'd bought by mistake and an old frying pan. In exchange I gained a dozen prawns. Spaghetti with prawns, garlic and (canned) tomatoes, kept the scurvy at bay for another day.
I'm currently stuck onboard watching the laden ships head north up the canal while I wait for a measurer, arriving anytime between 9am and 2pm - such precise timing! Once I'm measured the result will be fed into an opaque formula, which I believe includes random numbers and an assessment of my net worth to determine how much I owe in canal dues. So yet another chance to spend quality time with the engine preparing for the rigors of the motor through the canal and into the Med.
I'm planning to spend a few days in Ismalia, half-way through the canal. Apparently it's a good place to leave the boat while exploring inland. Almost as exciting is the news that mooring fees include water so I'll finally be able to properly clean off the Red Sea grime and allow my lines to soak so hopefully I'll have ropes that flex again, rather than the weather-worn pieces of leather they currently resemble.
Suez Yacht Club: N29deg56.9' E32deg34.4'
I'm currently stuck onboard watching the laden ships head north up the canal while I wait for a measurer, arriving anytime between 9am and 2pm - such precise timing! Once I'm measured the result will be fed into an opaque formula, which I believe includes random numbers and an assessment of my net worth to determine how much I owe in canal dues. So yet another chance to spend quality time with the engine preparing for the rigors of the motor through the canal and into the Med.
I'm planning to spend a few days in Ismalia, half-way through the canal. Apparently it's a good place to leave the boat while exploring inland. Almost as exciting is the news that mooring fees include water so I'll finally be able to properly clean off the Red Sea grime and allow my lines to soak so hopefully I'll have ropes that flex again, rather than the weather-worn pieces of leather they currently resemble.
Suez Yacht Club: N29deg56.9' E32deg34.4'
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Suez slog
So much for the benign weather. The Red Sea hasn't finished with us yet and seems intent on throwing its worst at me in a desperate attempt to stop us reaching the canal. I'm declaring round one a draw - I've put into an anchorage 60 miles from Suez, and I'll bide my time in here until I catch the weather napping then make another dash for Suez. So near and yet so far ...
I arrived in convoy with Kristiane we both wanted a break from the 25-30 knot head wind (forecast 5-10), but as progress against the wind and sea was so slow it looked like we wouldn't make it to the anchorage before dark. Fortunately there were boats ahead already snugly anchored and they gave us some way-points to follow and assured us it was an easy entrance. In the event the anchorage had a well-lit entry though once in we had no choice but to blindly follow the way-points, aware of the unseen reef either side - not ideal, but great to have a break from the incessant spray. At least Kika has had thorough wash!
The Gulf of Suez is much busier than I expected, especially at night. In addition to the ships in the traffic lanes, last night I had to contend with fishing boats randomly manoeuvring, shipping entering and leaving the lanes, pilot boats, brightly lit rigs with hypnotic bright flares, most but not all charted, as well as a confusing assortment of buoyage often differing from the chart.
Looking forward to a well-earned celebration in Suez - probably in a couple of days time as once the wind's whipped itself up into a fury - it takes a while to calm down.
Position @ 20:00 2nd April (Marsa Thelemet): N29deg 03.3' E32deg 38.1'
I arrived in convoy with Kristiane we both wanted a break from the 25-30 knot head wind (forecast 5-10), but as progress against the wind and sea was so slow it looked like we wouldn't make it to the anchorage before dark. Fortunately there were boats ahead already snugly anchored and they gave us some way-points to follow and assured us it was an easy entrance. In the event the anchorage had a well-lit entry though once in we had no choice but to blindly follow the way-points, aware of the unseen reef either side - not ideal, but great to have a break from the incessant spray. At least Kika has had thorough wash!
The Gulf of Suez is much busier than I expected, especially at night. In addition to the ships in the traffic lanes, last night I had to contend with fishing boats randomly manoeuvring, shipping entering and leaving the lanes, pilot boats, brightly lit rigs with hypnotic bright flares, most but not all charted, as well as a confusing assortment of buoyage often differing from the chart.
Looking forward to a well-earned celebration in Suez - probably in a couple of days time as once the wind's whipped itself up into a fury - it takes a while to calm down.
Position @ 20:00 2nd April (Marsa Thelemet): N29deg 03.3' E32deg 38.1'
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Into the Gulf of Suez
I'm on the final leg of the trip to Suez - I've entered the Gulf of Suez.
It's a narrow channel (12 miles across in places) with shipping lanes in the centre and oil platforms dotted around the channel. There's definitely a petrochemical smell in the air that for a change isn't wholly coming from Kika's engine box.
Slightly concerningly the pilot guide advises giving the oil platforms a wide berth as some disused installations have hazardous pipes cut off just below the surface, making them impossible to see, deadly if you collide with them. Looks like a busy night ensuring I avoid mooring and navigational buoys, oil platforms, cut-off pipes and don't stray into the shipping lanes.
So far the weather has been more or less as predicted - perhaps a little windier, which has worked in my favour; my repairs to the electronic pilot haven't worked, but with a decent wind I've been able to use the wind-steering.
Distance to Suez: 135 miles
Position @ 21:15 01/04 N27deg 54.9' E33deg 35.4'
It's a narrow channel (12 miles across in places) with shipping lanes in the centre and oil platforms dotted around the channel. There's definitely a petrochemical smell in the air that for a change isn't wholly coming from Kika's engine box.
Slightly concerningly the pilot guide advises giving the oil platforms a wide berth as some disused installations have hazardous pipes cut off just below the surface, making them impossible to see, deadly if you collide with them. Looks like a busy night ensuring I avoid mooring and navigational buoys, oil platforms, cut-off pipes and don't stray into the shipping lanes.
So far the weather has been more or less as predicted - perhaps a little windier, which has worked in my favour; my repairs to the electronic pilot haven't worked, but with a decent wind I've been able to use the wind-steering.
Distance to Suez: 135 miles
Position @ 21:15 01/04 N27deg 54.9' E33deg 35.4'
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
North towards Suez
After being storm bound for three days, an almost too good to be true, benign weather-window has appeared, hopefully allowing me to make the 300 miles to Suez in light variable winds - fatigue and self steering permitting.
Port Ghalib was a strange place to be stuck. A massive new tourist development situated in the middle of otherwise "undeveloped" desert. The architects have placed the yacht moorings in front of a large hotel and I think we added more "colour" than perhaps intended. Shaggy sailors working on engines and carting cans of diesel, juxtaposed with northern Europe tourists on a winter-sun package.
On arrival it took us all morning to clear the customs berth so that by the time we headed over to the quay, a strong northerly had picked-up. The moorings were arranged Mediterranean style - stern to the quay. This was my first experience in Kika of a Mediterranean mooring in which berthing involves a precise reverse into the quay, between two other boats, with concerned owners looking-on, and the added challenge of a strong cross-wind.
Going astern has never been mine or Kika's strongest suit and adding precision and cross-wind into the mix didn't make things any easier. Fortunately the marina must have observed similar manoeuvring problems before and had a boat on-hand to aid, but still it wasn't one of my better efforts, though the only damage was to my ego.
I joined a fleet of six French boats, my New Zealand Whangarei neighbour, "Eric the Viking" on Vagabond Virgin, great to catch-up, and a couple of other boats, including my companions for the last few days Paddy and Caroline on Kristiane. It was a good sociable time between engine filter changes, numerous electronic pilot fixes, and diesel and water refills.
This morning I cleared my quay slot before the wind picked up and headed out to sea. As forecast there's a moderate north-westerly has picked-up and for a change I'm making good headway under sail. I'm very happy to postpone the trial of my fixes to the electronic pilot in favour of the wind steering and it's great to give the engine a rest - it didn't seem too happy to be leaving this morning - I've added "cold-start glow-plugs" to my ever expanding list of repairs - or perhaps it's just complaining about the excessive work it's had to endure over the last couple of weeks.
It looks like the hotel will be deprived of its colourful adornment as the whole quay is leaving today while the going is good - but I guess it won't be too long before a new batch of weather-worn sailors arrive to dismantle their boats besides the sun-bathers.
Port Ghalib was a strange place to be stuck. A massive new tourist development situated in the middle of otherwise "undeveloped" desert. The architects have placed the yacht moorings in front of a large hotel and I think we added more "colour" than perhaps intended. Shaggy sailors working on engines and carting cans of diesel, juxtaposed with northern Europe tourists on a winter-sun package.
Going astern has never been mine or Kika's strongest suit and adding precision and cross-wind into the mix didn't make things any easier. Fortunately the marina must have observed similar manoeuvring problems before and had a boat on-hand to aid, but still it wasn't one of my better efforts, though the only damage was to my ego.
I joined a fleet of six French boats, my New Zealand Whangarei neighbour, "Eric the Viking" on Vagabond Virgin, great to catch-up, and a couple of other boats, including my companions for the last few days Paddy and Caroline on Kristiane. It was a good sociable time between engine filter changes, numerous electronic pilot fixes, and diesel and water refills.
This morning I cleared my quay slot before the wind picked up and headed out to sea. As forecast there's a moderate north-westerly has picked-up and for a change I'm making good headway under sail. I'm very happy to postpone the trial of my fixes to the electronic pilot in favour of the wind steering and it's great to give the engine a rest - it didn't seem too happy to be leaving this morning - I've added "cold-start glow-plugs" to my ever expanding list of repairs - or perhaps it's just complaining about the excessive work it's had to endure over the last couple of weeks.
It looks like the hotel will be deprived of its colourful adornment as the whole quay is leaving today while the going is good - but I guess it won't be too long before a new batch of weather-worn sailors arrive to dismantle their boats besides the sun-bathers.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Escape from Dolphin Reef
The wind kept me pinned within Dolphin Reef for three frustrating but enjoyable days. With Kristiane moored outside the lagoon I made a daily wet dinghy pilgrimage to meet them for sun-downers and invariably stayed for supper. The second night, I was well prepared, remembering to turn on Kika's anchor light, take a torch and hand-held VHF in-case of problems. Trouble was after a few too many drinks I watched in horrified slow motion as the VHF slipped from my pocket and disappeared into the dark waters around the dinghy. That'll teach me - or perhaps not ...
The days passed quickly with much weather punditry, boat jobs and snorkeling in the incredibly clear, but cold waters around the reef. I spent one morning cleaning barnacles off the bottom of the keel, where the anti-fouling hadn't reached when we painted the bottom on the careening grid in Darwin. They'd cemented themselves in-place making for slow but satisfying work. As I gradually chipped away at the organic layer, I was compensated for my labour by the many intrigued fish who remained close, presumably to see if the bits falling from Kika offered any kind of nutritious snack. The highlight were two huge Napoleon wrasses slowly circling underneath, completely unperturbed by my frequent graceless dives and vigorous scraping.
The reef was well stocked with large fish including some tasty looking grouper; unfortunately spear fishing is prohibited in Egypt, but fortunately not can-openers.
On the third day I made my way outside the lagoon and tied to a line used by the live-aboard dive boats; I relocated to permit our planned nocturnal get-away. After a few teasing lulls, at 10pm the wind had unambiguously dropped and we set off anticipating we'd have light winds for the 100 miles trip to Port Ghalib. I left with high hopes that the fix I'd made for the self-steering would save me from 20 hours fixed to the helm.
Soon we found ourselves in a large sea, making slow headway and by morning the wind picked-up again whipping-up the sea further and frequently halting our progress as we ploughed into the large waves. Fortunately the pilot showed an anchorage in the lee of a coral fringed sand split a few miles towards the coast. I'd decided I needed a rest after a busy night when the electronic pilot had packed-up within the first hour. Kristiane readily agreed and we picked our way between the bommies into the shelter behind the island.
North of Port Sudan the quality of the charts deteriorates significantly, with the chartlets in the pilot guide the only detailed source available. The chart is clear that it should not be relied upon for boats cruising the coast:
I spent a vexing afternoon in the anchorage battling with the autopilot and trying to fix a new problem with the down switch of the electric windlass which seemed to be short-circuited and caused the chain to run-out as soon as the windlass was powered. The double frustration was that the manufacturers (Lofrans) had fitted tamper-proof screws to the unit preventing me from even attempting a fix, short of drilling out the screws. The end result is that I can't solve the problem and have had to work round it by disconnecting the motor down connection. Then I invested quality time with the autopilot but despite deepening my understanding of its inner workings, I ended the afternoon no closer to a solution. However positively, the forecast showed the wind easing overnight we jumped at the chance to try again to cover the remaining 60 miles to Port Ghalib.
I studied the pilot guide and decided to try the passage north between the island and the shore, rather than retrace our path and add 4 miles to the journey. Kristiane agreed to follow behind me, though with the sun low in the sky it was tricky picking a route through the coral. After successfully edging my way round one large coral head I looked over my shoulder and was horrified to see Kristiane up on the reef. I was enjoying the challenge of the route, but in retrospect felt I hadn't sufficiently emphasized the dangers to Kristiane so felt some responsibility for their predicament. Just as I reached them, they scraped themselves clear, and somewhat shaken decided to take the longer route round. I pressed on a little more cautiously and found my way to clear water, my achievement tempered by guilt.
For most of the night my earlier shortcut kept me ahead, which was fortunate as just after 11pm the engine died as I unexpectedly ran out of fuel. Kristiane, who put their earlier mishap down to experience, quickly caught up to Kika, and saved the day by offering me their last two fuel cans - enough to make Port Ghalib and saving me from drifting helplessly in the windless night. I'd bought extra fuel cans in Aden, and thought I would have enough fuel, but had clearly underestimated the fuel consumption in previous days' heavy seas. For once the wind behaved as anticipated and despite another exhausting night glued to the wheel, morning revealed the channel leading to our first official port of entry in Egypt, with the chance to check-in, refuel, reprovision, clean-up and put back the clocks to a new timezone - GMT+2.
26/3/2009 (16:00) - Mooring outside Dolphin reef: N24deg 09.4' E35deg 42.65'
27/3/2009 (10:00) - Gezirat Wadi Gimal: N24deg 39.5' E35deg 09.4'
28/3/2009 (06.30) - Customs' berth @ Port Ghalib: N25deg 32.0' E34deg38.3'
The days passed quickly with much weather punditry, boat jobs and snorkeling in the incredibly clear, but cold waters around the reef. I spent one morning cleaning barnacles off the bottom of the keel, where the anti-fouling hadn't reached when we painted the bottom on the careening grid in Darwin. They'd cemented themselves in-place making for slow but satisfying work. As I gradually chipped away at the organic layer, I was compensated for my labour by the many intrigued fish who remained close, presumably to see if the bits falling from Kika offered any kind of nutritious snack. The highlight were two huge Napoleon wrasses slowly circling underneath, completely unperturbed by my frequent graceless dives and vigorous scraping.
The reef was well stocked with large fish including some tasty looking grouper; unfortunately spear fishing is prohibited in Egypt, but fortunately not can-openers.
On the third day I made my way outside the lagoon and tied to a line used by the live-aboard dive boats; I relocated to permit our planned nocturnal get-away. After a few teasing lulls, at 10pm the wind had unambiguously dropped and we set off anticipating we'd have light winds for the 100 miles trip to Port Ghalib. I left with high hopes that the fix I'd made for the self-steering would save me from 20 hours fixed to the helm.
Soon we found ourselves in a large sea, making slow headway and by morning the wind picked-up again whipping-up the sea further and frequently halting our progress as we ploughed into the large waves. Fortunately the pilot showed an anchorage in the lee of a coral fringed sand split a few miles towards the coast. I'd decided I needed a rest after a busy night when the electronic pilot had packed-up within the first hour. Kristiane readily agreed and we picked our way between the bommies into the shelter behind the island.
North of Port Sudan the quality of the charts deteriorates significantly, with the chartlets in the pilot guide the only detailed source available. The chart is clear that it should not be relied upon for boats cruising the coast:
Due to the age and quality of some of the source information, positions obtained from satellite navigation systems may be more accurate than the charted detail ... Most of the area covered by this chart has not been systematically surveyed. Many depths are from miscellaneous lines of passage soundings, old leadline surveys or from other Governments' charts whose source material is unknown. Uncharted shoals and patches of coral may exist.
I spent a vexing afternoon in the anchorage battling with the autopilot and trying to fix a new problem with the down switch of the electric windlass which seemed to be short-circuited and caused the chain to run-out as soon as the windlass was powered. The double frustration was that the manufacturers (Lofrans) had fitted tamper-proof screws to the unit preventing me from even attempting a fix, short of drilling out the screws. The end result is that I can't solve the problem and have had to work round it by disconnecting the motor down connection. Then I invested quality time with the autopilot but despite deepening my understanding of its inner workings, I ended the afternoon no closer to a solution. However positively, the forecast showed the wind easing overnight we jumped at the chance to try again to cover the remaining 60 miles to Port Ghalib.
I studied the pilot guide and decided to try the passage north between the island and the shore, rather than retrace our path and add 4 miles to the journey. Kristiane agreed to follow behind me, though with the sun low in the sky it was tricky picking a route through the coral. After successfully edging my way round one large coral head I looked over my shoulder and was horrified to see Kristiane up on the reef. I was enjoying the challenge of the route, but in retrospect felt I hadn't sufficiently emphasized the dangers to Kristiane so felt some responsibility for their predicament. Just as I reached them, they scraped themselves clear, and somewhat shaken decided to take the longer route round. I pressed on a little more cautiously and found my way to clear water, my achievement tempered by guilt.
For most of the night my earlier shortcut kept me ahead, which was fortunate as just after 11pm the engine died as I unexpectedly ran out of fuel. Kristiane, who put their earlier mishap down to experience, quickly caught up to Kika, and saved the day by offering me their last two fuel cans - enough to make Port Ghalib and saving me from drifting helplessly in the windless night. I'd bought extra fuel cans in Aden, and thought I would have enough fuel, but had clearly underestimated the fuel consumption in previous days' heavy seas. For once the wind behaved as anticipated and despite another exhausting night glued to the wheel, morning revealed the channel leading to our first official port of entry in Egypt, with the chance to check-in, refuel, reprovision, clean-up and put back the clocks to a new timezone - GMT+2.
26/3/2009 (16:00) - Mooring outside Dolphin reef: N24deg 09.4' E35deg 42.65'
27/3/2009 (10:00) - Gezirat Wadi Gimal: N24deg 39.5' E35deg 09.4'
28/3/2009 (06.30) - Customs' berth @ Port Ghalib: N25deg 32.0' E34deg38.3'
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Storm bound in Dolphin Reef
The forecast indicated the wind was going to shift to the NW sometime between midnight and 6am. With my original cunning plan I would have arrived in Port Ghalib between 4 and 5am, which I naively assumed would be before the strong north-westerlies arrived. Last night I woke up at 2.30am to roaring winds and thanked my autopilot for scuppering my attempts to beat the weather - I would have been caught out in 30 gusting 35 knots of head-wind in nasty short breaking seas, probably unable to make headway towards my destination. Instead I let out more chain on my primary anchor and spent an hour readying my third anchor just in-case I started dragging; my second anchor was already set to the stern to stop me swinging as the wind shifted. Fortunately the anchors held and my third anchor remains on-deck unused. I guess this type of sudden change is the kind of weather that gives the Red Sea its fearsome reputation.
The wind is bombarding the boat with desert sand, plastering all leading surfaces with what looks like a layer of grime. It's a losing battle to try to clean it off, but it makes Kika looked very unloved - just hope there's freely available fresh water in Cyprus.
Amongst other signs I'm getting closer to a European spring is the decrease in the temperature of the water. Even in a wet-suit, it now takes me an hour or so to fully warm up after a session in the water. With the wind screaming across the reef today, I'm afraid I didn't make it into the sea and spent the day working down-below.
When I arrived last night there were four live-aboard dive boats moored outside the reef, dwarfing a solitary yacht. As I approached the reef I had a brief chat with Christian - the yacht - and concluded there weren't any available moorings and in any case if I was going to try to anchor in the reef's lagoon, I had no time to spare. This evening I made the effort to extract the dinghy from the forepeak, inflate it, and make my way over to meet the crew of Kristiane. A fun evening, but I'm glad I'm inside the reef, despite the sound of the wind, there's negligible swell making it across the reef, compared to the mooring outside. It looks like I'm going to be here for at least another day possibly longer waiting for a break in the weather, so plenty of time to explore my temporary home environment. From the sound of the various radio nets, the whole sailing community is temporarily halted in their progress north, waiting for a break in the weather.
The wind is bombarding the boat with desert sand, plastering all leading surfaces with what looks like a layer of grime. It's a losing battle to try to clean it off, but it makes Kika looked very unloved - just hope there's freely available fresh water in Cyprus.
Amongst other signs I'm getting closer to a European spring is the decrease in the temperature of the water. Even in a wet-suit, it now takes me an hour or so to fully warm up after a session in the water. With the wind screaming across the reef today, I'm afraid I didn't make it into the sea and spent the day working down-below.
When I arrived last night there were four live-aboard dive boats moored outside the reef, dwarfing a solitary yacht. As I approached the reef I had a brief chat with Christian - the yacht - and concluded there weren't any available moorings and in any case if I was going to try to anchor in the reef's lagoon, I had no time to spare. This evening I made the effort to extract the dinghy from the forepeak, inflate it, and make my way over to meet the crew of Kristiane. A fun evening, but I'm glad I'm inside the reef, despite the sound of the wind, there's negligible swell making it across the reef, compared to the mooring outside. It looks like I'm going to be here for at least another day possibly longer waiting for a break in the weather, so plenty of time to explore my temporary home environment. From the sound of the various radio nets, the whole sailing community is temporarily halted in their progress north, waiting for a break in the weather.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Great push north: days 3 - 4
I waited in the anchorage until last light to leave, hoping the seas would ease a little, but in reality they were much as before. However I knew the seas would calm down overnight and that makes a few hours of hard slog into a big sea bearable.
The cunning plan began to unraveled when the autopilot insisted on steering me in circles. I tried every trick I've learnt over the last few months to persuade this obstreperous machine into steering anything resembling a straight course - nothing worked. I hove-to and attempted to fix the problem. As I've done many times before I removed the chain linking the pilot to the rudder and put the servo drive unit on the chart table to fault-find. As I searched for tools in the stern, Kika healed over as a large wave passed and there was a crash from the saloon. The heavy drive unit had toppled over and punched a hole in the floor board. An expletive laden hour later the pilot was back in position after a "Nick fix"™ and ready for a trial. The result - larger radius circles, but not significantly better. Time to admit defeat. Hove-to, I was drifting slowly away from the reefs, yet still clear of the shipping lanes. I felt defeated and exhausted so decided that a few hours sleep would put things back into perspective. Once refreshed time to rethink; I was keen to make it across Foul Bay, but Port Galib was no long viable. Instead I settled on Dolphin Reef 90 miles to the north, just to the north of the bay, but just possible to make in day-light and do-able hand-steering
I'd forgotten the monotony of being stuck on the helm hour after hour unable to leave without the boat rapidly heading off course. I tried various options with the wind-steering, elastic and ropes but when I needed a break, I resorted to idling the engine and letting the boat drift.
Dolphins and fish brought relief to the tedium. It was impossible not be swept up in the euphoria dolphins seem to have as they leap out of the water when heading in your direction in what I imagine is joy at the excitement of a boat to play with. It seems Dolphin Reef is aptly named as I had four separate dolphin visits. The other excitement was the first non-barracuda I'd hooked in days. I eased the engine and slowly reeled the monster in. You get to know the type of fish on the line by how they behave. Tuna and barracuda largely seem to give-up and let themselves be reeled in as they skim along the surface, though barracuda fight the closer they get to the boat. Mahi-mahi stay under the surface and swim from side to side, sometimes jumping out to try to free themselves and put up an impressive fight the closer they are to the boat. By the way this monster was behaving, I'd hooked a large mahi-mahi - my digestive juices began flowing in anticipation. Male mahi-mahi have a distinctive hump above their head, as I carefully reeled in my food for the next few days I could see clearly that I'd hooked a female. However before I'd had a chance to gaff her, I noticed her mate swimming beside her. I hesitated entranced by the two fish swimming together; did I really want to bring fishy bereavement to such a loyal partnership? My delay was just long enough for her to leap out of the water and shake herself free of my hook. The decision had been made for me and I was relieved and happy with the result. Am I going soft?
I just made Dolphin Reef with enough light to ease my way into the lagoon between the patches of coral and dive to check the anchors in the fading light.
The "Great push north" is temporarily suspended here, while I wait for a break in the weather. Still I'm across Foul Bay and have entered Egyptian waters. Tomorrow I'm looking forward to some snorkeling on the reef before battling with the autopilot.
Anchorage in Dolphin Reef (18:00 23/3/2009): N24deg 09.7' E35deg 42.4
The cunning plan began to unraveled when the autopilot insisted on steering me in circles. I tried every trick I've learnt over the last few months to persuade this obstreperous machine into steering anything resembling a straight course - nothing worked. I hove-to and attempted to fix the problem. As I've done many times before I removed the chain linking the pilot to the rudder and put the servo drive unit on the chart table to fault-find. As I searched for tools in the stern, Kika healed over as a large wave passed and there was a crash from the saloon. The heavy drive unit had toppled over and punched a hole in the floor board. An expletive laden hour later the pilot was back in position after a "Nick fix"™ and ready for a trial. The result - larger radius circles, but not significantly better. Time to admit defeat. Hove-to, I was drifting slowly away from the reefs, yet still clear of the shipping lanes. I felt defeated and exhausted so decided that a few hours sleep would put things back into perspective. Once refreshed time to rethink; I was keen to make it across Foul Bay, but Port Galib was no long viable. Instead I settled on Dolphin Reef 90 miles to the north, just to the north of the bay, but just possible to make in day-light and do-able hand-steering
I'd forgotten the monotony of being stuck on the helm hour after hour unable to leave without the boat rapidly heading off course. I tried various options with the wind-steering, elastic and ropes but when I needed a break, I resorted to idling the engine and letting the boat drift.
Dolphins and fish brought relief to the tedium. It was impossible not be swept up in the euphoria dolphins seem to have as they leap out of the water when heading in your direction in what I imagine is joy at the excitement of a boat to play with. It seems Dolphin Reef is aptly named as I had four separate dolphin visits. The other excitement was the first non-barracuda I'd hooked in days. I eased the engine and slowly reeled the monster in. You get to know the type of fish on the line by how they behave. Tuna and barracuda largely seem to give-up and let themselves be reeled in as they skim along the surface, though barracuda fight the closer they get to the boat. Mahi-mahi stay under the surface and swim from side to side, sometimes jumping out to try to free themselves and put up an impressive fight the closer they are to the boat. By the way this monster was behaving, I'd hooked a large mahi-mahi - my digestive juices began flowing in anticipation. Male mahi-mahi have a distinctive hump above their head, as I carefully reeled in my food for the next few days I could see clearly that I'd hooked a female. However before I'd had a chance to gaff her, I noticed her mate swimming beside her. I hesitated entranced by the two fish swimming together; did I really want to bring fishy bereavement to such a loyal partnership? My delay was just long enough for her to leap out of the water and shake herself free of my hook. The decision had been made for me and I was relieved and happy with the result. Am I going soft?
I just made Dolphin Reef with enough light to ease my way into the lagoon between the patches of coral and dive to check the anchors in the fading light.
The "Great push north" is temporarily suspended here, while I wait for a break in the weather. Still I'm across Foul Bay and have entered Egyptian waters. Tomorrow I'm looking forward to some snorkeling on the reef before battling with the autopilot.
Anchorage in Dolphin Reef (18:00 23/3/2009): N24deg 09.7' E35deg 42.4
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Great push north: day 3
This morning the NW 10-15 knots forecast turned into NW 20-25 knots and a correspondingly nasty sea built. I hove-to and studied the options. It seems careful attention to the pilot book pays. Initially I only studied the overview chart which shows a dearth of good anchorages within Foul Bay. However on closer inspection the detailed sketches highlight a few reasonable options. I decided to shelter in an anchorage behind a bank of coral 18 miles to the west, it was the closest, best and most sailable option. Like a lot of coral anchorages the route is edged by hazards and I was a little concerned about simultaneously spotting the bombies and steering the boat. I needn't have worried - the large seas were very visibly breaking on the banks and with the sun behind me, the shallow patches and isolated coral pillars were easy to spot by the colour change of the water. I expected I'd have the anchorage to myself, as I assumed all sensible sailors would be tucked up in a secure haven waiting for the wind to decrease, however a third of the Scandinavian fleet seemed to be suffering from the same madness and had arrived a few hours earlier.
Once anchored in the calm waters of the reef's lee, what to do next? Would the "Great push north" grind to a halt in Foul bay? Pondering the options and formulating a plan is the kind of challenge I enjoy. The forecast indicated easing winds tonight, continuing light on Monday, followed amazingly by southerly winds Monday night, but suddenly the weather window slams shut with 25 knots from the NW on Tuesday morning. Another complication is that most anchorages are fringed by coral and when anchoring on the coast you need to arrive no later than 3-4pm, otherwise the sun is in your eyes and you can't spot the path through the coral. However it seemed a shame to waste half a day of light winds and the rare southerly wind in the night, by prematurely halting my progress north. Slowly a plan emerged that startled me in its cunningness. Port Ghalib is 180 miles from my Foul Bay anchorage, it has a lit entrance allowing me to arrive at night and make the most of the rare southerly winds and arrive before the onset of the strong north-westerlies.
Anchorage in Shab Abu Fendera (12.00, 22/3/2009): N22deg 53.4' E36deg18.5'
Once anchored in the calm waters of the reef's lee, what to do next? Would the "Great push north" grind to a halt in Foul bay? Pondering the options and formulating a plan is the kind of challenge I enjoy. The forecast indicated easing winds tonight, continuing light on Monday, followed amazingly by southerly winds Monday night, but suddenly the weather window slams shut with 25 knots from the NW on Tuesday morning. Another complication is that most anchorages are fringed by coral and when anchoring on the coast you need to arrive no later than 3-4pm, otherwise the sun is in your eyes and you can't spot the path through the coral. However it seemed a shame to waste half a day of light winds and the rare southerly wind in the night, by prematurely halting my progress north. Slowly a plan emerged that startled me in its cunningness. Port Ghalib is 180 miles from my Foul Bay anchorage, it has a lit entrance allowing me to arrive at night and make the most of the rare southerly winds and arrive before the onset of the strong north-westerlies.
Anchorage in Shab Abu Fendera (12.00, 22/3/2009): N22deg 53.4' E36deg18.5'
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Great push north: day 2
Today felt a little like the calm before the storm. The sea was flat, the wind from behind, making for very pleasant sailing. However the winds are forecast to increase and shift to the north, but not as strongly as normal so I'm taking my chances. I've been making the most of the calm day, by airing the pillows and sheets, baking bread, giving the engine a little love in the form of an oil change, and decanting diesel from the extra cans I bought in Aden that look like they're about to burst their contents at any moment.
The obstacle ahead is the aptly named "Foul Bay". A coral strewn bay with only tenuous or difficult entry anchorages meaning there's 130 miles between safe havens. Although the favourable southerly disappears overnight I can't see a better weather window appearing in the next week so rather than waiting an indeterminate time for the perfect winds, I'm motoring into moderate seas with a head wind. While sensible boats have found a beautiful secure anchorage on the Sudanese coast and are sipping their first sun-downer, I'm bouncing around in the dark. It's not pleasant, but I'm slowly making my way across the bay. The strong northerlies resume on the 24th so I'm saving my sun-downers for then.
Position @ 20:00 (21/3/2009): N22deg07' E37deg01'
The obstacle ahead is the aptly named "Foul Bay". A coral strewn bay with only tenuous or difficult entry anchorages meaning there's 130 miles between safe havens. Although the favourable southerly disappears overnight I can't see a better weather window appearing in the next week so rather than waiting an indeterminate time for the perfect winds, I'm motoring into moderate seas with a head wind. While sensible boats have found a beautiful secure anchorage on the Sudanese coast and are sipping their first sun-downer, I'm bouncing around in the dark. It's not pleasant, but I'm slowly making my way across the bay. The strong northerlies resume on the 24th so I'm saving my sun-downers for then.
Position @ 20:00 (21/3/2009): N22deg07' E37deg01'
Friday, March 20, 2009
Great push north: day 1
I didn't quite make my planned 3am start, but thought 4.30am wasn't a bad effort. There's currently a little more moonlight later in the night which helped me very cautiously edge my way out of the reef-break leading into Suakin.
The anchorage in Suakin was busy with both Scandinavian and French boats who have opted to travel together. En masse the anchorage decided to make the most of the break in the prevailing northerly winds and head as far up the Red Sea as possible before normal conditions reassert themselves. With my earlier start I thought I'd get a head start on the other boats, but once clear of Suakin I noticed Blue Marlin following close behind, with the other boats emerging soon after at dawn. I soon left the other boats as I opted for a more direct route north outside the protective inshore reef. It seems my gamble paid off as there was little swell in the sea after a calm night.
Radio propagation in the Red Sea is surprising. Normally VHF radio range from yacht-to-yacht is 20-25 miles. However here it's possible to talk to other yachts on the VHF 100-200 miles distant. Great to hear familiar voices ahead, as sadly I seem to have left the pirate busting group behind. It was a relief to hear from "Helen Kate" yesterday who headed off along the Saudi shore from the Hanish Islands. They don't have a short-wave transmitter so it's been impossible for the rest of us to hear how they were getting along. It seems they sailed the east coast without being arrested and are now 90 miles ahead of me. Perhaps their gamble paid off..
Position @ 21:15 (GMT +3) 20/3/2009 N20deg17' E37deg32'
The anchorage in Suakin was busy with both Scandinavian and French boats who have opted to travel together. En masse the anchorage decided to make the most of the break in the prevailing northerly winds and head as far up the Red Sea as possible before normal conditions reassert themselves. With my earlier start I thought I'd get a head start on the other boats, but once clear of Suakin I noticed Blue Marlin following close behind, with the other boats emerging soon after at dawn. I soon left the other boats as I opted for a more direct route north outside the protective inshore reef. It seems my gamble paid off as there was little swell in the sea after a calm night.
Radio propagation in the Red Sea is surprising. Normally VHF radio range from yacht-to-yacht is 20-25 miles. However here it's possible to talk to other yachts on the VHF 100-200 miles distant. Great to hear familiar voices ahead, as sadly I seem to have left the pirate busting group behind. It was a relief to hear from "Helen Kate" yesterday who headed off along the Saudi shore from the Hanish Islands. They don't have a short-wave transmitter so it's been impossible for the rest of us to hear how they were getting along. It seems they sailed the east coast without being arrested and are now 90 miles ahead of me. Perhaps their gamble paid off..
Position @ 21:15 (GMT +3) 20/3/2009 N20deg17' E37deg32'
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Suakin
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Into Africa
After yesterday's monster barracuda incident, I was a little reticent to put out the line again. However I noticed Blue Marlin, one of the Norwegian boats, pulling in a small tuna and thus suitably encouraged I deployed the fishing gear. Ten minutes later I had what looked like a good sized tuna on the line. When I landed the fish, the poor thing was missing the last third of its body, someone had taken a meal from it in the time it took me to reel it in. It reminded me of the cautionary words I was given some time ago as I was preparing to snorkel, "remember when you go in the water, you're entering the food-chain and you're not at the top!"
There are two routes from Long Island, my overnight anchorage, to Suakin - today's destination. Normally I'd enjoy the challenge of the shorter tricky coral dodging passage, however it's hard to be up the ratlines and on the wheel at the same time so I opted instead for the easier slightly longer passage. It's a shame as given the stunning turquoise waters around the small coral islands I passed on the easy passage, I imagine the extra challenge of the inshore passage must have been easily balanced by its beauty. Sailing along the coast, my anticipation of the imminent landfall increased as I caught my first sight of the new continent; hazy desert running to the sea with mountain ranges painted on the background - like a film set.
Up until the end of the nineteen century Suakin was the principle port of Sudan. According to my pilot guide it was destroyed by the British military around the turn of the century and the shipping moved north to Port Sudan. Sailing between coral fringed sand-dunes down the long entrance into Suakin, it felt as though I was sailing into the heart of the desert. Eventually the channel ends at the ruins of the old city, apparently still in much the same condition as when it was destroyed over hundred years ago. I've never seen anything quite like it. It's one of those places were you can't wait to pump up the dinghy and get ashore - well actually most landfalls are like that - but this one especially so.
Sadly before exploring on land, you need to check-in. Mohammed (who else?) is a local agent and busied himself all afternoon taking five copies of the crew list, passports, crew photos, diesel orders and fees from every boat. In return we'll receive a shore pass and tomorrow can finally head ashore to explore.
2:30pm Suakin: N19deg 06.5' E37deg 20.4
There are two routes from Long Island, my overnight anchorage, to Suakin - today's destination. Normally I'd enjoy the challenge of the shorter tricky coral dodging passage, however it's hard to be up the ratlines and on the wheel at the same time so I opted instead for the easier slightly longer passage. It's a shame as given the stunning turquoise waters around the small coral islands I passed on the easy passage, I imagine the extra challenge of the inshore passage must have been easily balanced by its beauty. Sailing along the coast, my anticipation of the imminent landfall increased as I caught my first sight of the new continent; hazy desert running to the sea with mountain ranges painted on the background - like a film set.
Up until the end of the nineteen century Suakin was the principle port of Sudan. According to my pilot guide it was destroyed by the British military around the turn of the century and the shipping moved north to Port Sudan. Sailing between coral fringed sand-dunes down the long entrance into Suakin, it felt as though I was sailing into the heart of the desert. Eventually the channel ends at the ruins of the old city, apparently still in much the same condition as when it was destroyed over hundred years ago. I've never seen anything quite like it. It's one of those places were you can't wait to pump up the dinghy and get ashore - well actually most landfalls are like that - but this one especially so.
2:30pm Suakin: N19deg 06.5' E37deg 20.4
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
East coast sailing?
It's been a while since I've eaten a mahi-mahi, I treated myself to yesterday's fish for breakfast this morning and what a treat, I'd forgotten quite how delicious they taste.
From not seeing any boats for a couple of days, at 6.30am, as I passed the sheltered bay of Khor Nawarat, the Scandinavian fleet emerged from the various anchorages within and joined me for the sail to Long Island - 40 miles along the coast. The VHF came alive with melodic sounds of Norwegian and Swedish voices - haven't a clue what they were saying - but there seemed to be a lot to discuss.
After my delicious breakfast I had high hopes for today's fishing. Sure enough the line had only been out for 10 minutes and started screaming out - the sound of a big fish. I imagined filling the fridge with mouth-watering mahi-mahi steaks. Carefully I reeled in my catch, only to discover a monster barracuda - not what I'd ordered at all. They sit high up the food chain with the associated risk of ciguatera poisoning - to my taste they also smell bad. I had the best intentions of releasing my predator friend back to sea, but he didn't seem to appreciate my efforts to extract the hook from his vicious mouth, in-fact I think he could do with an anger management course as he seemed intent on extracting his pound of flesh from my hands. I eventually managed to free my fishing tackle, and return my unwanted catch to the sea, but he'll have a very sore mouth for a while.
The countries in this area make the cruising sailor's life a little easier by using similarly designed flags. The Sudanese flag is the same as the Yeman flag with the addition of a green triangle, the Egyptian colours add an eagle motif. So take some green fabric, contact adhesive and a Yeman flag and bingo an instant Sudanese flag. Wonder if Blue Peter would be interested in the idea?
As I arrived at the Long Island anchorage I could almost imagine I was on the east coast of the UK, sailing down the Twizzle with birds calling out from scrub covered low-lying sandy islands. UK - no coral in Essex and the waters a little colder, but how about a twinning campaign; Walton-on-the-Naze twinned with Shubuk, Sudan?
Long island anchorage @ 16:30 17/3/09 N18deg 46' E37deg 39.5'
From not seeing any boats for a couple of days, at 6.30am, as I passed the sheltered bay of Khor Nawarat, the Scandinavian fleet emerged from the various anchorages within and joined me for the sail to Long Island - 40 miles along the coast. The VHF came alive with melodic sounds of Norwegian and Swedish voices - haven't a clue what they were saying - but there seemed to be a lot to discuss.
After my delicious breakfast I had high hopes for today's fishing. Sure enough the line had only been out for 10 minutes and started screaming out - the sound of a big fish. I imagined filling the fridge with mouth-watering mahi-mahi steaks. Carefully I reeled in my catch, only to discover a monster barracuda - not what I'd ordered at all. They sit high up the food chain with the associated risk of ciguatera poisoning - to my taste they also smell bad. I had the best intentions of releasing my predator friend back to sea, but he didn't seem to appreciate my efforts to extract the hook from his vicious mouth, in-fact I think he could do with an anger management course as he seemed intent on extracting his pound of flesh from my hands. I eventually managed to free my fishing tackle, and return my unwanted catch to the sea, but he'll have a very sore mouth for a while.
As I arrived at the Long Island anchorage I could almost imagine I was on the east coast of the UK, sailing down the Twizzle with birds calling out from scrub covered low-lying sandy islands. UK - no coral in Essex and the waters a little colder, but how about a twinning campaign; Walton-on-the-Naze twinned with Shubuk, Sudan?
Long island anchorage @ 16:30 17/3/09 N18deg 46' E37deg 39.5'
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