Location: Durban, South Africa
On the second day of the semester, all students and staff were assigned to one of the three watch teams. Except me. If you wonder on which watch team I am, I said, I am on all of them.
This cant be any truer today.
My day didnt really have a start or an end. It kinda flows seamlessly with no sense of day or night.
Midnight. We are cruising to Durban at eight-nine knots with only a tiny reefed Main Sail and the Forward Staysail. Strong gale conditions, the wind gusts to 45 knots. Gabe tells me that our Forward Staysail has ripped along the leech. We keep it up because slacking it to pull it down in these conditions might damage it even more, when it violently flaps from side to side.
I find my bunk and close my eyes for a while until the next call from the cockpit. Our speed dropped below eight knots. Normally, that wouldnt be a reason to call me, but tonight, we are on a schedule. We need to arrive in Durban before the wind shifts to the South, which makes our approach slow, choppy, and even dangerous. The latest forecast shows the wind shifting around 6 am. So we shouldnt slow down. I turn the Main Engine ON, verify the cooling water circulation, and ask Kackie to increase RPM and keep speed at nine knots.
I close my eyes for a while when I hear Kackie saying Ben feels no steering. That was the first time since I met Kackie that I sensed some stress in her voice. She is normally so consistently chilled and cheerful at all times. Obviously, no steering in gale conditions should naturally increase stress levels. A few seconds later, I heard her saying, We have no steering. We have no steering.
Back to the cockpit. The night is pitch black. The wind noise is ear-deafening. The waves are breaking on the hull and spraying us with salt water from unusual directions. Watch Team Two is already center-lining the Main Sail. I wiggle the helm – it is too easy and certainly no longer connected with the rudder.
I take a torch and crawl into the laz under the cockpit. The steering gear is all there. Yep, the steering line, which connects the helm with the rudder, has snapped. This is a one-inch thick Dyneema line. It can hold several tons of weight. But not tonight. Tonight, it opted to snap in the middle of a gale while we were racing to reach Durban.
Step one: connect and engage the hydraulic emergency steering.
I smile to myself when I recall Kris telling me, just three months ago, to keep it always connected because you dont wanna do it in a gale in the middle of the night. And yet, here we are. The connector bolt keeps unscrewing itself and falling out with the engine vibrations. Gabe connects the mini toy wheel at the cockpit while I connect the hydraulic ram to the steering board in the laz. Allie is with me in the laz, relaying my instructions to Meg, who relays it to Gabe at the cockpit: All the way to starboard, a little to port, more to port,. Now wiggle it from side to side – until the heavy ram fits into its connector. You have steering now. Go back to course.
But the toy-wheel is no match to the gale conditions. And will not serve us well when we enter the port in the morning. We need to restore the helm.
Step two: rig a new steering line.
Meg brings a new Dyneema line from the salon, along with a knife. Allie cuts away the remains of the snapped line. She relays my instructions to Kackie: Open the steering gearbox in the cockpit and lower a thin line to us in the laz. As Allie and I work in the laz, we hear screws falling on the cockpits deck above us. I shine a light up the binnacle, and I see Gabes hand lowering a thin line from the steering gearbox. I tie that line to the steering chain. Pull it up, Gabe, I shout, as the wind is still ear-deafening outside. Pull it up from the port side, then turn the helm to lower the chain on the starboard.
The chain is in place. I tie the new Dyneema line to it. No time now to splice it properly. Then, I tie the other end of the Dyneema line to the steering board. Meg, we have steering. Lets test it
Meg relays to Gabe. He turns the helm all the way to port and then all the way to starboard. It works, but the steering line is slightly elastic, and it falls off its tracks. We need more tension. Allie and I spend the next hour with 22mm wrenches and the long tension bolts on both sides of the steering board.
We have steering.
Back at the cockpit. A dim red line paints the horizon in the East. Were not going to make it to Durban by 6 am. The wind is still North-East. Maybe it wont shift? Lets speed up. Gabe, shall we raise a jib?. Gabe hasnt slept in 24 hours. Kackie takes over, marching forward with her watch team. I stay at the helm and watch a magnificent red sunrise behind my left shoulder. Twenty minutes later, the jib is up, and we gain another knot. Kackie sends me to sleep. Her voice is back to the normal chilled, relaxed tone.
When I next open my eyes, Argo moves more gently. The wind has shifted to the South, but it is no longer in gale conditions. Allie is drenched in her foulies. Striking the jib on the bow-sprit, she took three dives into the ocean. Gabe is awake, too. He suggests turning and slightly increasing our wind angle. I agree. We might find a calmer sea state closer to shore.
Half an hour later, we are indeed in a calmer sea. Durban is ahead. This is a good moment to strike our sails. I call the Port Control on VHF channel nine, requesting permission to enter the port. Permission granted. Meg, we need both generators and the hydraulics ON. Were going to drop both anchors at the same time. We anticipate strong gale conditions in the port in the next few days, too.
Last time we anchored in Mauritius, we had no propeller. This time it seems so easy. At 12:40 our anchors are set. Engine off. Breath. Smile. Another day, another adventure.
If I had to choose between a propeller and a rudder, I would certainly choose a rudder. Having no steering feels awful. At the same time, this was my best time ever in the laz. Working together with Allie and the entire team felt calm and joyful. Who said that crossing the ocean should be easy?
After lunch, the entire team puts Argo to bed and scrubs the salt off everything. I miss that as I hop in the dinghy to the yacht club on shore. Clearing formalities. Looking for laundry service, for trash disposal, for a sail-maker. Talking to local yachties and seeking their advice on the journey further to Cape Town.
Now we wait. We wait for the next weather window – thats when the South wind pauses and allows us to continue. We dont know when it will happen. We dont know what conditions we will meet, and how long it will take us to reach Cape Town. But we know it will be an adventure.