Quest was test-sailed on a Wednesday evening, paid for on the Thursday, handed over on a Friday (and insured). And I wanted to get it to Hout Bay soonest - where I live. That's about 30 km down the coast. The weather report seemed ok - very light wind in the morning, freshening to about 20-30 km/h in the afternoon from the NW - which would be on a stern quarter except for the last bit. In those days I didn't say knots and miles and stuff. Just good old TV weather reports. I knew the coast fairly well having traversed it in my little rubber duck a few times. I knew how to sail (dinghies). And I felt I was pretty resourceful with mechanical things and all.
So I phoned my mate Nick - said what about sailing the little boat down to Hout Bay on the Saturday? Never mind how we came to this extremely foolish conclusion. We had almost no keelboat experience between us - just a HUGE taste for adventure at this moment! And at that time there was no law saying one had to have a skippers ticket etc. The challenge just seemed too tempting to resist. . .
At 0500 on Saturday morning we headed off to Royal Cape Yacht Club. With lots of petrol, sandwiches, and plenty of tools. For safety we had wetsuits (!) - and cellphones - plus the usual flares and all. We had to get into RCYC in a way that wouldn't arouse suspicion. Especially since we weren't even members. Well it was no problem. Gate security saw us arriving with hands full and very politely let us through. I signed the boat out (permanently) in their book - happened to see a sign saying all vessels had to keep a "listening watch" on Channel 14 in the harbour - and of we went to the boat. It was a lovely still morning, with a bit of mist.
Soon we were on the boat, unlocked the cabin and lazarette, had the motor on. One or two sails out. We had no idea what sails were available, or where they were. Some looked bigger than others, and some were different colours. Each one was stowed below and had to be fitted. Even the main. The foresails were hank-on sails. I hauled out the outboard and fitted it on the transom bracket. Pumped the fuel through and managed to start it without much ado.
Nick was busy connecting the battery. We thought it would be good to have the radio connected - just in case! We certainly weren't going to speak on it and had no idea what to say anyway. After connecting the battery we were rewarded with some smoke and a strong burning smell which seemed to be coming from the ancient radio-tape player. With some urgency we ripped the wires off it. And the VHF just wouldn't work. It wasn't a good sign at all. I decided to phone the broker - Carl - at this very early hour - but even while speaking with him it occurred to me we probably had the polarity wrong. We quickly changed it around (the colours were wrong) and luckily it worked - i.e. the VHF - and the nav lights. Somewhat relieved - and slightly encouraged - we quickly cast off and headed out through the harbour. It was very still at 6 a.m. - and we moved along at a steady 4-5 knots with the little 8hp outboard gurgling along happily behind us, hoping Port Control would not have anything to say. We had already decided we would not answer the radio under any circumstances. I seemed to remember one had to "keep right" on the water which is what we did - and actually had a very smooth transit out of the harbour, and into the Atlantic - where I turned left (South) for to Hout Bay . . .
It was quite exciting. Our safety plan - if it all went pear-shaped - was to head for the shore, don our wetsuits and swim the last bit! As I would do with a surfski anyway. One way or another - we made steady progress under motor all along the way as far as Llandudno or so - thats about 20 kms - on a gentle sea with almost no wind. It was quite relaxing initially as we surveyed Table Mountain and the beautiful Atlantic seaboard from the sea. We then scratched in all the drawers and found some lovely things like an old compass, a book on lighthouses and lights and whatever, a few old lifejackets, some strange black disks and a few rags that turned out to be flags of some sort. And a nice aluminium pole with a hook on which has been quite useful too. Marvellous! I had kept the motor running at a very gentle pace as we had no idea if the available fuel would be sufficient (25L). In fact we thought we would not have enough to motor the whole way which was a bit of a worry . . .
South of Llandudno the weather usually changes - and it did. Fortunately we expected this and could see the water darken under the wind pressure. Nick dropped the headsail we were flying - some kind of light-weather drifter, and replaced it with a smaller headsail - actually a number-3 (I now know it to be). Good. Well the North Wester came up behind us and freshened to about 15-20 knots, and we sped off down the coast on a broadreach, at the heady speed of about 6 knots! Not bad considering there was about a 2" beard under the hull. And as this is a rather wild piece of coast with lots of submerged rocks etc - Nick was standing up at the mast keeping an eye forward as we whizzed along. I think we did have an old chart - but we had no accurate idea where we were in relation to the submerged horrors of this stretch. And while I had covered it a few times in a R.I.B. or surfski, those didn't have keels on. However - with hindsight - we were in fact far enough offshore to be quite safe . . .
It seemed like just a few minutes later we were actually in Hout Bay. The second half of the trip seemed to have just vanished - partly because we were moving quite swiftly, and partly because we were having tremendous fun seeing the little boat moving like that!!! Coming back into Hout Bay we had hardened up onto a tight beat, with the boat heeling nicely. From a dinghy sailor perspective, this was not alarming at all and in fact it all seemed so easy. Not much physical exertion - no tired stomach muscles. And the boat seemed to point very faithfully and make exceptional angles to weather (later I noticed the windex had a distinct bias to port - so my amazement was recalibrated a bit - but still it wasn't bad).
I headed into the middle of the bay - out of the way of other moving things, and just off the beach. This would allow us a bit of safe drifting time to get the sails down, outboard started etc. And predictably we needed it. Nick had the sails down quite easily - we lashed the main onto the boom and let the jib lie on the foredeck. I battled with the outboard meanwhile - both with the transom bracket and also to get it started. Eventually it did start fortunately - or our arrival in the marina would have added some good material for this blog I reckon. So we headed into the harbour under engine power - note that the engine was way out the back with no remote control. We sniffed about for an open marina berth - cut the motor - and made land in a relatively dignified way as it turned out. No-one fell in the water, no fingers were sunk, and the boat was unholed and undented. Bloody marvellous. We tied a few ropes to bits of the quay - resolving to get back to this technical matter once we'd had a beer or whatever. Then it dawned on us - we hadn't touched our sandwiches, cooldrinks etc at all. We had nearly all our fuel left too. And our e.t.a. had been had been hoplessly pessimistic. We had completed a fairly significant little coastal passage without incident, without experience, first time on a new boat, and looking back on it, without much brains either . . . But we undoubtedly had the time of our lives!!
So I phoned my mate Nick - said what about sailing the little boat down to Hout Bay on the Saturday? Never mind how we came to this extremely foolish conclusion. We had almost no keelboat experience between us - just a HUGE taste for adventure at this moment! And at that time there was no law saying one had to have a skippers ticket etc. The challenge just seemed too tempting to resist. . .At 0500 on Saturday morning we headed off to Royal Cape Yacht Club. With lots of petrol, sandwiches, and plenty of tools. For safety we had wetsuits (!) - and cellphones - plus the usual flares and all. We had to get into RCYC in a way that wouldn't arouse suspicion. Especially since we weren't even members. Well it was no problem. Gate security saw us arriving with hands full and very politely let us through. I signed the boat out (permanently) in their book - happened to see a sign saying all vessels had to keep a "listening watch" on Channel 14 in the harbour - and of we went to the boat. It was a lovely still morning, with a bit of mist.
Soon we were on the boat, unlocked the cabin and lazarette, had the motor on. One or two sails out. We had no idea what sails were available, or where they were. Some looked bigger than others, and some were different colours. Each one was stowed below and had to be fitted. Even the main. The foresails were hank-on sails. I hauled out the outboard and fitted it on the transom bracket. Pumped the fuel through and managed to start it without much ado.
Nick was busy connecting the battery. We thought it would be good to have the radio connected - just in case! We certainly weren't going to speak on it and had no idea what to say anyway. After connecting the battery we were rewarded with some smoke and a strong burning smell which seemed to be coming from the ancient radio-tape player. With some urgency we ripped the wires off it. And the VHF just wouldn't work. It wasn't a good sign at all. I decided to phone the broker - Carl - at this very early hour - but even while speaking with him it occurred to me we probably had the polarity wrong. We quickly changed it around (the colours were wrong) and luckily it worked - i.e. the VHF - and the nav lights. Somewhat relieved - and slightly encouraged - we quickly cast off and headed out through the harbour. It was very still at 6 a.m. - and we moved along at a steady 4-5 knots with the little 8hp outboard gurgling along happily behind us, hoping Port Control would not have anything to say. We had already decided we would not answer the radio under any circumstances. I seemed to remember one had to "keep right" on the water which is what we did - and actually had a very smooth transit out of the harbour, and into the Atlantic - where I turned left (South) for to Hout Bay . . .
It was quite exciting. Our safety plan - if it all went pear-shaped - was to head for the shore, don our wetsuits and swim the last bit! As I would do with a surfski anyway. One way or another - we made steady progress under motor all along the way as far as Llandudno or so - thats about 20 kms - on a gentle sea with almost no wind. It was quite relaxing initially as we surveyed Table Mountain and the beautiful Atlantic seaboard from the sea. We then scratched in all the drawers and found some lovely things like an old compass, a book on lighthouses and lights and whatever, a few old lifejackets, some strange black disks and a few rags that turned out to be flags of some sort. And a nice aluminium pole with a hook on which has been quite useful too. Marvellous! I had kept the motor running at a very gentle pace as we had no idea if the available fuel would be sufficient (25L). In fact we thought we would not have enough to motor the whole way which was a bit of a worry . . .
South of Llandudno the weather usually changes - and it did. Fortunately we expected this and could see the water darken under the wind pressure. Nick dropped the headsail we were flying - some kind of light-weather drifter, and replaced it with a smaller headsail - actually a number-3 (I now know it to be). Good. Well the North Wester came up behind us and freshened to about 15-20 knots, and we sped off down the coast on a broadreach, at the heady speed of about 6 knots! Not bad considering there was about a 2" beard under the hull. And as this is a rather wild piece of coast with lots of submerged rocks etc - Nick was standing up at the mast keeping an eye forward as we whizzed along. I think we did have an old chart - but we had no accurate idea where we were in relation to the submerged horrors of this stretch. And while I had covered it a few times in a R.I.B. or surfski, those didn't have keels on. However - with hindsight - we were in fact far enough offshore to be quite safe . . .
It seemed like just a few minutes later we were actually in Hout Bay. The second half of the trip seemed to have just vanished - partly because we were moving quite swiftly, and partly because we were having tremendous fun seeing the little boat moving like that!!! Coming back into Hout Bay we had hardened up onto a tight beat, with the boat heeling nicely. From a dinghy sailor perspective, this was not alarming at all and in fact it all seemed so easy. Not much physical exertion - no tired stomach muscles. And the boat seemed to point very faithfully and make exceptional angles to weather (later I noticed the windex had a distinct bias to port - so my amazement was recalibrated a bit - but still it wasn't bad).
I headed into the middle of the bay - out of the way of other moving things, and just off the beach. This would allow us a bit of safe drifting time to get the sails down, outboard started etc. And predictably we needed it. Nick had the sails down quite easily - we lashed the main onto the boom and let the jib lie on the foredeck. I battled with the outboard meanwhile - both with the transom bracket and also to get it started. Eventually it did start fortunately - or our arrival in the marina would have added some good material for this blog I reckon. So we headed into the harbour under engine power - note that the engine was way out the back with no remote control. We sniffed about for an open marina berth - cut the motor - and made land in a relatively dignified way as it turned out. No-one fell in the water, no fingers were sunk, and the boat was unholed and undented. Bloody marvellous. We tied a few ropes to bits of the quay - resolving to get back to this technical matter once we'd had a beer or whatever. Then it dawned on us - we hadn't touched our sandwiches, cooldrinks etc at all. We had nearly all our fuel left too. And our e.t.a. had been had been hoplessly pessimistic. We had completed a fairly significant little coastal passage without incident, without experience, first time on a new boat, and looking back on it, without much brains either . . . But we undoubtedly had the time of our lives!! 
Eventually, I locked up, tied some more ropes on, phoned the marina officer to confirm our arrival and berth number -and joined the Hout Bay Yacht Club a few days later.See the posting "reflections on safety" for my current views on this adventure, safety laws etc.
