Doldrums Off The East African Coast

We are still living inside the Rime of the Ancient Mariner.  Or on a Saturday Night in Toledo, Ohio, the song by John Denver. John Denver's version of being bored is more tongue in cheek that Coleridge's.  We sit and watch the sun rise, the moon rise, then the sunset and the setting of the moon. This as opposed to visiting the bakery and watching the buns rise or sitting in the park and watching the grass die, as John Denver would have it.

Coleridge had a much heavier tone to his description of boredom.


Perhaps we are in a different situation, but eventually boring nevertheless. It is easy to think this as you go through the roller coaster of emotions on this voyage.

The past few days saw us sailing for about twelve hours a day before the wind died and we had to motor. This pattern had been slowly changing, however.

To less wind, more quiet sea. The peak thus far was today, when we had a glassy smooth sea at sunset. However, when I came on watch at midnight things were different.

The moon was lazily setting into an oily smooth sea. There was no swell even. Normally one loses some feeling for the swell when lying down. Tonight is no exception. But even on deck I am able to walk around without fear of falling over.

In fact, the sea is flat calm that I was able to photograph the moon sinking into the sea using a hand-held compact camera. The camera even reported sufficient light to focus.


I was also able to get shots of the southern cross and the two pointers, but these were a bit shaky.

Flat calm sea indeed.

On the other hand we have a serious problem with this lack of wind. If I did nothing, we would run out of food in the middle of the ocean, just like the sailors of old. Or we may run out of fuel before the wind came back. Which will have our refrigerated food go bad with the same starvation staring us in the face.

But we are resourceful, can think and make decisions. Like going closer to the coast to make use of any breezes there may be due to the effect of the hot land. Hopefully our windless woes will soon be a thing of the past.

I am also making an experiment with the pineapple vinegar. We started the experiment today, so we shall see how it goes.

Today was also the first time we had the full main sail up. Up to now we played it safe with the fluctuations in the wind and sailed with one reef in the main to alleviate the deck work load required by the solitary watchkeeper.

The little wind there is is so steady that I decided to shake the reef and see what speed we can make using the full main. The wind was on our port quarter, so the main could actually be blanking the jib.

This was not the case and we had some very good sailing in flat water for about an hour. Then the wind died.

On preparing to pack away the sail we found a shackle pin in the sail bag. Quite disconcerting, as the pin was very thick, meaning that it was supposed to hold down something big and  strong. We found the culprit a few minutes later. Luckily, the shackle was still in place. It was the shackle at the clew of the main sail, holding the clew and the girdle round the boom together. The webbing and the outhaul line had held the shackle itself in place. Talk of some luck.

Another latent problem sorted.

Up to now we have only seen three man made things in the ocean. No, that is not correct. One of the crew saw two ships, the rest of us saw a drill rig. But the crew member in question saw the drill rig in full dress as they switched on all their lights as we approached. This of course happened in the middle of the night, so only the watchkeeper saw the spectacle. The rest of us just saw a bright light on the horizon.

Speaking of bright lights, we are now running with navigation lights again. But I got caught out the other night when I saw another bright light appearing on the horizon. I quickly switched onb the navigation lights, just  to realise fifteen minnutes later that it was indeed the planet Venus rising. Another sign of very calm weather.

We have started our fishing efforts again, but to no avail. Probably due to the calm conditions and our slow progress. The closest we came to catching fish were the whales visiting us late this afternoon. They visited again just before midnight, scaring the living daylights out of the watchkeeper as they blew next to the boat.

Interesting how the simple things in life become important when you are far away from the hustle and bustle of city life.


Authored by Johan Zietsman

Last updated on 2014-07-06

The Doldrum Cruise Start

The full implication of the East African doldrums finally came to light today. In a roundabout way too.

But I am getting ahead of the story.

I made my usual phone call for weather info on the satellite phone today. In fact three calls. Of which two gave me sketchy information and one, inadvertently, gave me more useful information.

Us sailors need weather information to plan our passage and course for the next forecast period. On voyages close inshore we get the forecast on the VHF radio at set times, depending on where you are. But out in the ocean one is dependent on phoning a friend to help with this service. It makes life at sea a lot safer.

Today I had two sets of information in which the informants gave me some ideas of their own. The third informant was my wife. She gave me an update on the weather at home and the forecast for the rest of South Africa for the next few days.


Now, you would argue that the information is valid only for the region in question, which would be right. However, it is quite possible to derive a forecast for our whereabouts from the South African forecast.

This is possible because we are north-east of South Africa and close enough that cold fronts passing over the country will affect our weather over here. Cold fronts in this area travel from west to east and lose some of their impetus over the southern African continent.

So today I learned that a strong cold front passed over Cape Town two days ago, passing over the eastern part of the country by today and tomorrow. This means that the south Indian ocean high that sits near us will be pushed north to give us the doldrums. Then the same high pressure system will move south again as the front passes, giving us back our wind.

To conclude this very heavy essay on weather, I forecast a northerly to north-easterly wind of around twenty knots two or three days hence. In support of this, our wind started coming back today with a light air of around five knot out of the north-east and the barometer dropped by one hectopascal and stayed steady.

Ocean weather systems 101, I guess. Only time will tell whether I am right.

We made a few turns on our path the last few days in in our quest for optimal speed and progress. This had a positive reslut that we picked up a current of around one knot, helping us along, whereas before we had none. Thank heavens for small mercies.

In addition we are now on an ocean cruise. We re-budgeted our food and fuel and found that we could live quite long waiting for the wind to come without having to motor like mad to get to a fast food joint.

Today was wash day, tomorrow boat cleaning day. And so we shall keep ourselves out of mischief.

The pineapple vinegar is fermenting merrily in the bath and we are making attempts at fishing. My guess is that we won't catch anything at the speed we are going at present, though. Hopefully the situation will soon change for the better.

Today was also baking day. We haven't had fresh bread for a few days now after the last of the store-bought bread ran out. It was nice to have a slice of warm bread with real butter for a change. It appears that I have now come to an understanding with the oven and the two loaves came out nicely baked with a thick caramelised crust and a fluffy, elastic crumb. Not too bad for an off-the-cuff recipe.

We also have some reasonably fresh flour of French origin and type '00'. This is not readily obtainable where I live, so I had to make do with what I have. A whole new learning experience, using a different flour than the ones I am used to, in addition to a new brand of instant yeast. Life in the galley gets quite interesting as well!


We were able to relax our strict regime today and watched some movies. This may become part of the daily routine by the looks of it. Good entertainment and not too taxing on the mind.

A voyage with a difference, this oceanic cruise. Quite a positive experience.

My first and hopefully not the last.



Authored by Johan Zietsman

Last updated on 2014-07-06

Down The Mozambique Channel

Yesterday was a day of repairs and finding out how well our repairs work.

We also made some progress into the narrowest part of the Mozambique channel. Just where Africa makes a bulge and Madagascar has a cape by the name of Cap St Andre.

We topped up our fuel from our spare diesel in canisters. I also recalculated our consumption. The repair on the main sheet was tested and found serviceable. I also lifted some of the restriction on the usage, as we have very mild weather at present.

It appears that the weather is settled into a standard pattern of a southerly wind commencing from just after midnight, backing to south-east early in the morning. Nice and steady, it blows at around seventeen knots. This wind continued through the day, dying away towards the middle of the afternoon. Then we motor.

It is here we I had to re-plan the strategy for this part of the voyage. How fast can we go for how long? We need the batteries to start the motors as well as for keeping our freezer cold. Not to mention our water maker.


We don't carry overly much water, but have enough for the voyage plus some spare. But it does mean that we need to economise on fuel usage.

We appear to have picked up some current as we leave behind the influence of the Madagascan “mainland.” Which helps a lot.

Madagascar is an island, but it is large enough to count as mainland as far as influencing the weather is concerned. Hopefully this influence will wane as we cross to the African side of the Mozambique channel.

As of the time of writing we just on a thousand miles away from Durban, our next port of call. Home. Well, almost.

But very frustrating when you sail at seven and a half knots for half the day, then chug along at four knots to conserve fuel for the rest of the time. Daily runs are sitting at around one hundred nautical miles per day, while we are expecting at least a hundred and fifty.

The vagaries of sailing.

We plan to make a stopover in Durban to rest and recover. The boat needs some attention and tlc after my ministrations, so there is work to be done. The next leg of the voyage includes rounding of two of the four most notorious capes in the world, namely Cape Agulhas and Cape Point. And it is winter there at the moment. You want the boat to be as ready as possible before starting the voyage.

On this delivery we have the luxury of a large video screen, so movies after dinner seem to be in fashion on board. Some relaxation, forsooth.

I have yet to read a book on this voyage I have been kept busy with the captain's work, which never stops. And I have been the main cook on board as well. All of this, along with working my shifts, take up most of my waking time, so hardly any time left for reading.

I am managing my time to have as much sleeping time as possible. Which is not saying much. Normally with our watch-keeping we work three hours on and six hours off. However, in my case I have to cook dinner. So every day I have to be awake from around four-thirty in the afternoon to start preparing dinner.  I have a broken sleeping schedule two days out of three.

It takes a toll after a while. My erstwhile skipper will probably laugh. He explained this several times on our previous voyages, with little effect. It is only now that I am wearing the same shoes that the message hits home. At least I feel like I am growing into this role and that my body clock has adapted.

My sleeping pattern now is something like sleep two hours every now and then. Sum total of sleeping hours per day then comes to around eight, but in snippets. Eating sensibly and smaller portions help a lot to stay alert and mentally agile for the task at hand.


Our freezer now has some space for more fish. But that is not all. I have this idea of using some of the fresh pineapple to make a sour ferment to use as vinegar. Then we can have a lovely fruity pickle for the fish, unique to the Hungry Sailor. Spices are no problem, we just left one of the hubs of the spice trade.

I am looking forward to this one. Imagine, a totally natural and chemical free fish pickle. Organic, too. I very much doubt whether the locals use GM seeds to grow their pineapple crops. From what I have seen, they use the wild ones to restart new growth.

And not to mention fish biltong. Properly spiced and dried fish, using our own home made vinegar. The plans are in place, along with the logistics. Now all we need is some fish.

I shall start the vinegar tomorrow. We have a pineapple left. And some local rum from Madagascar to disinfect the whole lot.

Ahh, what fun it is to have creative ideas using appropriate technology!



Authored by Johan Zietsman

Last updated on 2014-07-04

Reparations Day

Macbeth once remarked on a question from his friend Banquo on how his day had been that “such fair and foul a day I have not seen.”

Perhaps a bit harsh in our circumstances, but a valid comparison nevertheless.

Today we did a mop-up of all the things that broke, fell around and became messy in general. The weather had subsided during the night and we all had some rest.

But not I. The engine failure problem kept me awake as I was trying to figure out the various possibilities of what could have gone wrong. During this morning's inspection, I found that the fuel filter bracket had broken loose from the mounting and the fuel filter was hanging in the air suspended by the various pipes that are connected to it. But the worst was to come. The fuel filter itself had cracked open and was dripping fuel.


This was all fixed within about an hour's work using some very creative engineering applied to materials at hand. Notable of which is the good use of cable ties.

But the worst part is that we lost an estimated sixty liters of our precious fuel. This in an area of the ocean which is known for its doldrums at this time of year. The very reason that makes it one of the better cruising destinations in the world.

You sail when there is wind during the day, then anchor at a suitable spot during the dead times to enjoy the beautiful sun-filled sky and beaches. Not to mention the diving spots.

One can but hope that our provisioning is up to the problems posed by Mother Nature. Otherwise we may be very thin by the time we get to a suitable reprovisioning point.

Our broken main sheet was repaired in quick time by rearranging the culprit blocks that caused the chafing in the first place. But a fat lot of good that did, with no useful wind. Still, the mainsail is now serviceable again.

We are al settling into the daily routine of a regular delivery voyage. Three hours on, six hours off. Interesting how fast our biological clocks adapt to the change in sleeping regime.

My crew looks like two hippies from the sixties. Perhaps they like the sea gypsey lifestyle. All they need now is to learn how to cook. Then I could take a break from the rigid timetable that I am following on this trip and have some more rest.

Our freezer is still stocked sufficiently with fresh fish that we don't really have to fish at present. In spite of this, the crew is starting to put a line out of their own accord just to keep busy. Another interesting development amongst people who are more used to texting their friends on their cellphones rather than doing outdoorsy things.

Perhaps I have the makings of more Hungry Sailor types on board!

Tonight we watched a movie after dinner. The first time we really had a chance of doing so. We are motoring along under a moonlit sky on a glassy smooth sea at around three knots with absolutely no wind.


The wind died around four in the afternoon. Hopefully it will return around two in the morning, like last night.

We had the most exquisite sailing conditions today. A steady wind of seventeen knots, gusting to twenty, just abaft our port beam, the sea having swells of around one and a half meters. Blue skies and a warm sun. Almost like a page from a travel brochure, as I said before. This is the “fair” part of the expression.

One is always thankful for such mercies. It gives one time to recoup and revitalise both body and spirit.

Today I am signing off watch with a song in my heart.

Things are looking up again. We are about seven hundred nautical miles away from our waypoint on the East African coast near Inhambane in Mozambique. Seven days of sailing at the present rate, hopefully better than that.

Who knows what adventures await us?




Authored by Johan Zietsman


Last updated on 2014-07-03

And Then The Storm-Blast Came

I suppose it had to happen. All fair weather on a voyage like this seems to be too good to be true. 

Today Mother Nature decided to show us one of her nastier moods.

For the last three days you may think we were part of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner.

“Day after day, day after day
Nor wind nor breath nor motion.
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.”

These words from Samuel Taylor Coleridge certainly rang true. We were shopping on the first day, luckily for us. But there was not a breath of wind for most of the day.The second day was yesterday, when we had to motor, as the sea was glassy smooth with no wind either.


To follow on with Coleridge's words: “Then the storm blast came.”

Early this morning the wind came up.  A nice breeze at first, which grew to a howling gale just after sunrise. Twenty-eight knots, gusting to thirty-five, complete with swells of over five meters. We changed course to have the swells on our port beam, but still got swamped every so often in the cockpit. Quite something on a 14 m catamaran.

Of course this was not the only thing that happened. The main sheet chafed through and we had to effect hasty repairs at five o'clock in the morning. In the dark, I might add. This exercise had to be repeated an hour later as the same thing happened.

We stowed the main sail and tied the boom down until we could make a repair on it in quieter weather. The chafing was due to broken blocks.

Luckily the wind abated towards afternoon and the sea settled enough for us to have a comfortable dinner. The first decent meal of the day.

But that was still not the end of our woes.

Shortly before my watch started at midnight, the port engine started overheating and had to be stopped. We shall do an inspection in the morning.

So now we are wallowing along at one knot in a variable wind in order to conserve fuel.

One wonders what will happen next.

All of this yet again brought to mind one of life's lessons as taught by sailing. The nice pictures that you see in brochures and books are but part of the screen saver of sailing.

The real experience is a lot of hard and dirty work, interspersed with these nice experiences. One of the biggest jobs in sailing instruction is to make the students aware of this other hidden part.

You do not have a garage or friendly service station to come and help you if you get into trouble. You are on your own and have to make do. Mostly far away from land.

But I had this experience right outside Cape Town harbour, where the boat's motor died just as I was about to enter harbour. I had already obtained permission from port control to do so. So we sailed away and did some tacks and gybes while I fixed the problem. I wonder what the official in the control tower was thinking.

Sailing is far more than just the fun part of racing on a sunny day. The biggest part of sailing lies in what I call ship's husbandry. It is all those little tasks of looking after the engine, the instruments and the working parts of the boat. Making sure that the rigging integrity is still good. And making sure that the boat is properly provisioned. It includes also looking after the safety and navigation equipment and making sure that you have a proper passage plan.

And then making sure you have a properly prepared crew.

Some of the students thought that this was a bit much. Not quite what they were expecting from a sailing course. So now I have some of them on board on a long voyage, with the same things happening and the same level of responsibility required of all of us.


Except now you can't phone for help.

Hopefully some of the lessons are driven home.




Authored by Johan Zietsman

Last updated on 2014-07-03

On The Road Again

Or would “All At Sea” be a better title?

Whatever the case, we are on our way again on this Odyssey to deliver the boat to Harbour Island, Gordon's Bay. The last few days were quite hectic, with Tony packing in as much of the Madagascar experience as possible.


We dived in several spots and fished on our way wherever we went. With a modicum of success. But this level of activity takes its toll and we were all quite exhausted by the time we had the boat provisioned for the voyage to Durban. Then it was time to see Tony and Marjo off before we slipped our mooring lines and were on our way.

We were so eager to go that we opted to stop at Russian Bay again to clean the water line of all the growth of the last two weeks. The marina where we were moored had a vibe that was just too depressing and the water were a bit murky. There was a muddy bottom after all.

In contrast, Russian Bay has the most beautiful beaches and a sandy bottom to drop your anchor. The water is clean and warm, making it a pleasure to hop in the water to clean the hulls.

This last indulgence quickly came to an end and half an hour later we hoisted anchor and said goodbye to this beautiful place. This time for good.

I now fully understand the inner conflict that some sailors have of casting off and leaving versus staying another day. Or perhaps even longer.

We met an American sailor who has been on an extended cruise since 2004. This cruising life grows on you.  And this area has so many beautiful places to visit that it will keep you busy for years. The sea is flat and the wind mild. The conditions are so benign that you find the local fishermen in their little sailing canoes quite far out to sea. They go about their daily toil without batting an eyelid, sailing and paddling several miles out to sea to their favourite fishing spot.


This may sound weird, but here you do get reefs quite far out to sea, where the water is about ten meters deep with some drop-off cliffs. This is where you find the game fish that these fishermen are after.

This voyage has been filled with so many activities that my blog posts had to take a second place for the time being. But now we are on a watch-keeping schedule and things have quieted down, allowing some free time for recording my experiences.


I picked up quite a few culinary skills on this trip. These include cooking prawns, something that I have never done but was on my bucket list. The basic trick to get crispy prawns is to have them completely dry, then dusted with a bit of flour before frying them in butter and oil. Easy, if you know about the dryness requirement. And these came out the best I have ever tasted.

Another quick salad idea also came up. A three bean salad, “sousboontjies” for my Afrikaans readers. Normally made from dry beans soaked overnight, then cooked to a mush, this one is a lot easier.

Start with a small onion, a slice of sweet pepper and a knob of garlic, mashed. Fry these in light oil until theonions are translucent. Then add two cans of beans, e.g. red kidney beans and baked beans and cook these slowly for ten minutes. You may add some vinegar if you want to. Definitely add some sugar, say two table spoons. Stir the pot to make sure nothing sticks to the bottom of the pan and burns. Voila! Sousboontjies! Very easy, even if it is a bit of a cheat. The cooking makes the beans more digestable. If the sauce is too thin, simply mash some of the beans with a fork and put them back in the pan. Thicken to taste.

Now as I sit here writing these words, my heart feels lighter and there is a feeling of elation. The cruise part is a wonderful experience, but the ocean crossing is what draws me. Going somewhere, seeing only blue water for days on end.


This gives an emotional freedom that one normally would not even dream about.

Tonight there is no moon yet.  The wind just died and I had to furl the jib away. The sea is flat. The milky way makes a light path on the water. For me, this is therapeutic. Meditation time on watch.

I am almost out of words.

May there be more of this!



Authored by Johan Zietsman


Last updated on 2014-07-01

Lost in Paradise

This is how I felt the last few days.


We cruised around the islands of Nossy Be, Nossy Komba, Tany Kely and a place called Russian Bay. We anchored off Hellville and went ashore for supplies and a look around.


The place resembles any town on the African continent, with friendly people all around wearing smiles and a colourful spread of garb.

The shops are clean and so are the streets. There is proper sanitation and the streets don't smell of excrement and rotting garbage. We visited a small village on the island of Nossy Komba, where a friend of Tony lives. Children in school and evrybody happy. They have the most magnificent views imaginable, with their houses pitched against the hillside.

And they have all the food that they want. Fish from the sea, bananas, papayas, cocnuts, chickens and the odd zebu. A zebu is a species of ox. The people also eat the fruit bats, so they have ample protein in their diets.

Fish makes up the most protein, while they grow cassava for starch. A convenient water taxi service connects the villages along the coast, so they have ample transport. They also have internet and cellphones, so things ae looking up. In the village we visited they have electicity from a small hydro-electric plant running from a 100 mm pipe with a 85 m head of water. This gives them about 8,5 KW, which is sufficient to drive the internet connection, charge their phones and to have a movie at their outdoor movie house twice a week.



They have no refrigeration.  There is a small ice plant to supply ice for their cool boxes. They also have no bicycles or cars. These are not required, as all transport happens by sea, which is very flat with hardly any swell.

The children are all happily in school, learning life skills as opposed to skills required by industry as in the western world.

We spent a few days cruising around and snorkelling wherever the water allowed. I saw the most wonderful unspoilt coral heads, much better than those in the Seychelles.

The sunsets and sunrises are unbelievably pretty and there are enough little bays and inlets to keep you busy on your voyage of discovery for several years.

We spent a night in a place called Russian Bay. This bay was named after a fleet of Russian ships got stuck there with no funds and had to make do for themselves after the USSR government just abandoned them in their plight. It appears that most of those vessels are now in service as fishing vessels.

We had the most wonderful food on board. Fish is plentiful and we had prawns and boiled potatoes for dinner one night. We fried the prawns in oil after drying them and dusting with flour. You need very dry prawns and hot oil. These prawns never saw a freezer. Think about that!

Fruit is also plentiful and we traded some for fish we caught.


Boat building appears to be a popular skill and the workmanship is exquisite. Especially considering the three or four pieces of tools that these men use in their art. A saw, a small hatchet and a heavy machete is what is used. Then there is a hammer for the nails to hold the boat together. Yes, nails. Big and thick, they are home made from 8 mm steel bar. The wood is planed with a wooden block plane, very old style tools. Watertight integrity is ensured by careful fitting of the planks, as well as some caulking. The ribs inside the boat are made from the fork formed by a branch from the tree trunk of a mangrove tree. Very strong wood and quite sustainable at the rate that these people use the wood.


An outrigger completes the stability requirements of these small vessels which are quite fast, if on the heavy side. All of them have sails.

Some have the standard dhow rig, which Prince Henry the Navigator copied for his caravel rigs. The smaller boats have a square sail suspended from two poles standing up from the deck like a wishbone. The bottom ends of the sail have sheets for trimming. This allows the boat to sail about twenty degrees upwind.

The people are past masters at sailing these little boats. It is a wonderful sight to see them tacking through the marina, dodging the mooring lines and working their way upwind to get back home.


I have seen a dhow docking under sail. In light airs, this is an art in these heavy boats.

This has been a wonderful experience of life in a simple form. Using appropriate technology and the resources at hand. And the people are all very happy and friendly. I have not really seen any grumpy faces at all. Hardly any illness.

One wonder how long this paradise will last before “civilisation” catches up.

Authored by Johan Zietsman

Last updated on 2014-06-30