Our next port was Saldanha Bay, located in the Western Cape province, where there is a sailing club with a good reputation. A friend of ours that we met in Durban introduced this club to us and suggested that it would be a perfect stop for provisioning before leaving South Africa. From the coast of Cape Town, Saldanha Bay is about 60 nautical miles to the north. If it was necessary, we could rent a car easily to Cape Town which was not far to drive. The trip was about 140 nautical miles, we would need to sail for a full day to get there.
Early that morning, we all took seasick pills and then untied the line on the fishing boat next to us. In the soft breeze, we waved goodbye to Gansbaai which had provided special accommodation to Ithaca and her family.
As soon as the boat sailed out of the harbour, the Cape Peninsula far across the bay appeared in front of us. The end of the Cape Peninsula is the famous Cape of Good Hope. The Cape of Good Hope has the same fame as the Cape of Agulhas that we passed earlier, which has a significant meaning to sailors. To us, when we pass the Cape of Good Hope, we would truly be entering the Atlantic Ocean and the trade wind sailing.
The eastern side of the Cape Peninsula and the mainland of South Africa form a half-circle enclosure, which is more than one thousand square kilometres, called the False Bay. The mountains guard on both sides of the bay's entrance, causing the wind to accelerate whether in summer's southeasterly or in winter's northwesterly, because of the resistance of the mountains.
We were having the southeast wind on the day. The closer we got to the Cape of Good Hope, the stronger the wind blew, and the higher the confused waves became. Despite reefed sails, our boat sailed at a speed of 7 or 8 knots, which was the fastest speed since the start of our journey. Notwithstanding, Ithaca, who had just been repaired, sailed very well.
After passing the Cape of Good Hope, the wind decreased sharply, the sea was calming down and our strained nerves could be relaxed.
As the evening sank in, Cape Town and the beautiful Table Mountain, which South Africans are proud of, were obscured in the city lights. If it were not because of the complicated customs formalities, as well as the narrow and crowded marina, we would love to stop in Cape Town, where we could wander around each wine cellar, buy a few boxes of wine, load them into the cabin and drink with people around the world. South Africa wines are popular and notable, not inferior to French wines.
The sea traffic became busy while we were getting close to the city. Various types of containers, cargo ships, and tankers were bustling at sea. We were sailing outside the ships' anchorage area, nevertheless, there were still many ships sailing in and out of the city at night.
At 9 O'clock, Pierre and I changed shifts on time. I would stand on watch alone until midnight. A few minutes before, he had avoided a large cargo ship. The sea should be quiet a bit as it was getting late at night. He told me so before going off.
Shortly after 10 o'clock, the AIS system identified a cargo ship in front of us on the port side. I looked outside and saw a green dot far away with two white dots at the front and the back, which indicates a cargo length over 50 meters.
Most cargo ships cruising around the South African coast are normally two or three hundred meters long. I didn't pay much attention to it, perhaps because of inertia. Previously, two cargo ships had appeared in this section; we avoided and passed safely without changing course. Pierre was laying in the cockpit next to me, snoring in his sleep. I didn't want to wake him up.
A few minutes later, I looked out the window again. Oh my! This cargo ship was moving really fast, the darkness covered its moving speed. Now, not only could I see the navigation lights clearly, but also the lights in the bridge were visible. I quickly checked the estimated collision report from AIS, the two boats would crash in just a few minutes!
I felt panic and called Pierre up instantly. In the meantime, I turned the engine key in the switch to try to start the engine.
"Oh, No. The engine could not start!" Pierre was still in a state of half-asleep when he heard these two bad news. He was angry and mad at me for not waking him up earlier.
He grabbed the position and tried to start the engine too. But the engine was dead and in complete silence. There was not even a sound of the starter clicking.
I quickly checked the voltage reading on the instrument! Above 12 volts. It was adequate to start the engine.
This morning everything was perfectly fine when we left the harbour. We don't know what is wrong with the starter. And why at this critical moment?!
Yes, it happened at this critical moment.
At noontime, after a turn from the Cape of Good Hope, we changed to downwind sailing. Since then Ithaca was sailing Wing-on-Wing, poling out the genoa and the main on each side of the boat. With this sail plan, the sailing course that can be adjusted is relatively small.
Pierre opened the engine compartment to check the starter. The wiring connection was perfectly fine. He was getting irritated and ran back to the cockpit to check the ignition panel again. At the same time, we called our two children out of the cabin; they were not sleeping yet. If two boats collided, the cabin below where they sleep would be undoubtedly the most dangerous place.
We tried the engine again and it was still dead. Think! What else can be done? And we must think fast.