We almost died! What should have been an easy sail from Paternoster to Langebaan on the West Coast of South Africa, had us sailing in bad weather that turned into an ordeal that we won’t soon forget.
We decided to leave Paternoster on Monday the 21st of March 2022 for Langebaan. It was earlier than we expected but we wanted to avoid being exposed to high winds forecast for later in the week and move to a more protected anchorage.
The weather forecast for the day had wind blowing South to Southeast between 8 to 12 knots which meant that we would have to beat into the weather to get to Langebaan. A sea state with wave heights of 2.5m was forecast between Paternoster and Saldanha. The forecast also mentioned wave heights of 3.0m to 3.5m between Saldanha and Cape Point. We had an eleven-hour window which was more than enough to get into safe waters before higher winds were expected but we decided that having been in those types of seas before, it was not something we were concerned about. The decision was made – we will leave in the morning.
The day started out great. We had both sails reefed and easily maintained a boat speed of five knots plus on the first leg of our journey. The swell was about half a meter to 1.5m and we were on a comfortable port tack – somewhere between a beam reach and a close haul. The autopilot was engaged, the day was beautiful, and we chatted about the sailing we have done and the places we have visited in the last couple of weeks.
We knew that at some stage we will have to change the tack to a close haul to get Anchored in Hope’s bow pointed south to make ground towards our next anchorage, but we were looking at about 8 to 10 hours of sailing ahead of us with our GPS predicting an ETA of around 17:00.
The first 2 hours was a breeze and all too soon we were in 150m of water. We decide that it was a good time to change tack so that we can see what angles we had to work with. Anchored in Hope was quickly doing 4 knots again and the autopilot took over again. We were happy with the angle that we got, and her bow was pointing far enough south that we were making ground towards Langebaan.
Gwennie even went downstairs and cooked us a meal that we had for lunch. She had warmed up soup as well, but we left that on the stove to eat when we arrived at our destination.
Another 2 hours later and we did another tack, but by now the wind had picked up and changed direction and was blowing SSE – directly from the direction that we wanted to go. The waves were standing taller, and it became more and more difficult to keep Anchored in Hope’s bow pointed far enough south without losing speed and have the genoa flapping in the wind.
This was more or less the time when Gwennie saw the shark! There were seals everywhere either chasing after fish or lounging around in the water. Gwennie was casually looking at one of these seals when inside one of the waves rolling towards us, she saw a huge shark almost at eye level. He had his eyes pinned on his next meal and did not see us coming. Gwennie on the other hand saw him coming and she was ready to run. Luckily, she was fastened to the boat with a harness. This gave her fight or flight instinct (flight being her choice) a chance to calm down, and she was incredibly pleased that the shark had also got a fright and missed the meal he was aiming for.
Our journey continued and we were steadily going towards Langebaan, but we realised that we were going to sail more than double the distance if we had to tack back and forth. With this, we decided to reef up the genoa some more and motor sail in a more direct route towards Saldanha Bay. Some sailors may at this point say that we should have continued to tack back and forth to maintain our speed, but our GPS confirmed that with us motoring more directly towards Saldanha we would have a better ETA.
We were still doing between 3 and 4 knots over ground, so we were satisfied with the progress that we made, but that was about to change. The wind and waves had picked up some more and the autopilot was now unable to correct the boat’s direction after a wave hit us. I had to disengage the autopilot and take the helm.
Our progress suddenly slowed down to a crawl. We were down to somewhere between 1 and 3 knots. Conditions had deteriorated and the waves grew to at least 5 or 6 meters with some real monsters coming at us from time to time. Yep, those big waves that had been forecasted to be south of Saldanha were now well north of Saldanha, and far bigger than predicted.
We persevered but progress was now painfully slow as Anchored in Hope was being pushed back with each wave that came at us. Waves were washing over the boat and objects were falling around inside the cabin, and we were hanging on for dear life making sure that we were attached to the boat with our harnesses.
By the time we saw the lighthouse at the entrance to Saldanha bay we were exhausted, and the sea has just grown worse. It was getting dark, and we had a real concern that if anything went wrong that we would end up on the rocks right next to that lighthouse. The mainsail was still up, and with the wind blowing up to 30 knots, there was too much sail out. This caused the boat to come about with every gust of wind that hit us.
Gwennie had to take the helm, she stood shaking at the thought that she could lose her grip and we would not survive these waves. At this point I had to release the mainsail, I had to crawl to the mast to bring the sail down and tie it to the boom. We left a small handkerchief-sized piece of the genoa out. With this configuration and the motor running we turned east into the mouth of Saldanha Bay and could now get up to 4 knots of boat speed.
We were also now sailing parallel to the waves which were coming at us from the side. This is not ideal but usually, you can compensate by turning the boat away from the wave just before it hits and correcting once it has passed. It was getting dark making it difficult to see them coming and to keep the boat from being knocked over, but somehow our boat just stayed on top of the waves, and she kept steaming towards the safety of Saldanha Bay.
But it happened. We were so close to safety, but also still very vulnerable. We got knocked over TWICE! At this point, we just wanted to get this trip behind us. As we were about to enter the bay, we were hit with the biggest wave we have ever sailed in. We didn’t know it was coming, it was already so dark by then. The roar of the water gave us an idea that it might be bigger than the rest. When it hit, the boat started going over (this happened in a couple of seconds, there is no time to think, you can only rely on instinct or be a spectator at what’s happening to you at that moment). As the full impact of water coming over us, hit home, the boat rolled over horizontally, and we could see our navigation lights at the top of the mast close to the water’s surface.
Gwennie was sure that we were going to roll completely over. Standing behind the helm I went flying but somehow managed to hold on to the helm the whole time (how I do not know). Objects were flying around in the cabin. Luckily Gwennie was literally tied onto the boat with her safety harness as her hands were at this stage not able to hold on anymore, and her body struggled to stay upright. We thought it was over when the water went over us, but the thoughts of our impending death vanished as Anchored in Hope rolled upright again and continued to steam along as if this was something she did every day. We were soaking wet by now, wishing and praying that this ordeal will come to an end.
And then – just like that – it all stopped. We crossed that line where we were in the protection of the bay. The waves subsided and the wind calmed down. It would be another 2 hours before we could put out our anchor and take stock of what happened to us, but we were so thankful and happy to be alive.
Just shy of midnight, after 17 hours at sea and battling the wind and the waves for maybe 8 or 9 hours (who knows) we dropped our anchor in Oudepos. Wet and exhausted. The anchor must have known that we were battle weary because it set at once. We did the minimum to button up the boat. All we wanted to do was to go down, get dry and take stock of the damage in the cabin.
We expected to see the soup we had on the stove plastered against the ceiling. The glass jars that hold our tea and coffee were on the floor, but they were in one piece. The soup and the meal that Gwennie prepared during our voyage was still in their pots securely on the stove. Our fridge had ended up at a 45-degree angle, wedged between the seats on either side of the V-berth’s door. It was still chugging along keeping its contents cold as if it was the most natural thing for a fridge to do.
There were a few items on the floor, but not a single thing was broken or damaged.
Gwennie heated up the soup for us and we each had a cup of soup before we got into bed. Just before we drifted off to sleep, I said: “Do you know what we did today my Angel? We defeated the Kraken!” and we laughed and fell into a deep sleep.
When we discussed our experience the next morning, we could tell each other that even though we were terrified at the moment that we had a job to do and we did it. We were very proud of the way we handled ourselves (call it courage or stupidity- we don’t know), but one thing is for sure – this could have gone very differently and for that, we are humbled and grateful.
We’re looking forward to our next sail. We’re grateful that this experience has not deterred us from continuing this amazing adventure, but we will choose our weather window much more carefully next time.
