Kapstaad being the Afrikaans name for Cape Town.
We left our slip an hour before the others to pick up a mooring in the bay off the beach and yacht club. Just behind our slip is where the shark cage boat ties up which makes for a tight spot and leaving while they were away gave us more room to manoeuvre. It was a brilliantly clear and sunny and an hour's waiting was a peaceful gift. We were entertained by a fleet of kids in sailing school going through their drills, sailing circles round a pair of bouys, practising crowded starts, jostling for position as they all rounded a mark together. They were pretty slick.
Our fleet mates emerged from the harbour, we sailed off our mooring and joined them to round Cape St. Blaise at the western end of the bay. The beach gave way to cave pocked, low (100ft or so) sandstone cliffs topped with houses overlooking the open ocean. Today it would make for a fine walk in the sunshine and light breezes. I can only imagine what it is like in a south easterly gale, the big rollers grinding themselves to smoke and being carried away, up and over the cliffs.
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Our forecasted tailwind was late coming and at 4:00am on Tuesday we were motoring. A pretty morning with a full moon overhead and the faintest promise of sunrise in the south eastern sky; it takes some getting used to having the sun rise and swing northward to midday. More wind would be nice, though I should be careful about what I wish for in these parts!
By 5:00am the wind was up to 10 knots aft. Off with engine, what a relief, deploy the hydrogenerater, push out the main, rig the preventer, snug down the mainsheet to keep things quiet and have a good look around. The fishermen are clear of us, and I could see our two compatriots' masthead lights winking in and out on the horizon across the moonlit sea. We are creeping along at 5 knots in the breeze. I set my alarm for ten minutes to doze.
By 7:00 Nora and Zeke were up, Zeke roused by our futzing with the port engine trying to convince ourselves that the prop was folded. It may have been, but more importantly, it was now time to choose a spinnaker. We were expecting fair winds to 30 knots, but at 10 knots the winds were now lighter than we expected. The big spinnaker can stay up in 18 knot winds, the small one can take 10 knots more. We were trailing the other boats who were still motorsailing so the bigger spinnaker was tempting. We set about rigging the lines, guys and halyards, the winds rose a couple of knots. We unzipped the large spinnaker's bag, we got a couple of knots more. We zipped the bag closed, and went for the smaller spinnaker. The wind held. Up she went, but wouldn't set cleanly in the main sail's wind shadow. Down came the main. We received a revised forecast showing our winds holding under 20 knots for the day. On went the engine and we swapped spinnakers, the wind dropped a knot, the boat speed increased a couple of knots. We shut off the engine, got the prop folded and were sorted. Time for tea.
At 13:28 we rounded Cape Agulhas, Africa's most southern point and meeting point of the Indian and Atlantic Oceans. We marked the occasion with a toast of Mr. Garsons' whisky. Zeke adjusted our course northward, heading for home.
The rest of the day remained settled though overcast and grey. In the late afternoon the wind built to 17 knots. We doused the spinnaker and prepared supper. The western sky cleared for sunset. It is very quiet as we creep along at 5 knots.
At 3:00 am I came back on watch to 20 knot winds, a brightly moonlit sky and, six miles north west of us, the lighthouse on the Cape of Good Hope. It was something to see. It stands 285 feet above the sea and sweeps crystal bright across the moonlit seas. A call from Tahawus, abreast of the Cape, warned us of 40 knot winds; he was running at 6 knots under bare poles. With the wind dead behind us maybe that the cape's headlands are funneling the winds.
By 4:00 the cape was four miles off our starboard beam with the winds risen to 30 knots. The moon was partially obscured behind thin clouds but the sea around the cape's headland glittered brightly in a pool of moonlight. The headland itself clearly visible, a tall black silhouette against the faint loom of the lights around False Bay. This really is something, a very memorable place to be and a fantastical night. As we draw away we can see our next light at Slangkoppunt.
By six the sun was up and drove off the spell. I'll be happier when it drives off the clammy damp.
By lunchtime, in the dead calm of a hot day, we were all tied up in Cape Town at the Royal Cape Yacht Club, and were met at the slip by a club member who guided us through the formalities and on to lunch, courtesy of the BPO. The RCYC is the biggest club so far and is a hive of activity, and not just in the bar and restaurant. The boat yard, chandlery (we have been asked what use we have on a boat for chandeliers), committee rooms and large media room (packed with enough gear to warm a retired video and sound engineer's heart) are all busy and they run an aggressive outreach to the city's youth to get them into sailing. It is quite a place, nice showers too. Each stall has its own private changing room though first place in my heart for showers remains at Algoa Bay Yacht Club.
Link to today's pic's :
https://www.dropbox.com/sh/s4cyi38biou1irt/AABoTP5k21fE3LLmwVXI5rqma?dl=0
Most of these pictures have captions that you may be able to see.
Link to all photos:
https://www.dropbox.com/sh/777m1sl5uebzqey/AABaKPwzXV0e_WlXZC0LDhDja?dl=0
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