Goodbye Durban …

… Hello Cape Town.

Woke at a revoltingly early hour – about 3 a.m. Alarm set for 3.45 a.m. (Nothing like getting ahead of the game – albeit without meaning to). Tiptoed around packing bags, said goodbye to Lena and caught the 6.30 a.m. flight from Durban to Cape Town. Arrived a couple of hours later to glorious sunshine and ferocious winds.

And what winds! After picking up the rental car, we headed off for the V&A Waterfront, where the sea was laced with foamy spume and charging tiers of agitated waves. And there we were, happily enjoying the clean, carefully-groomed waterside of slick, tourist-savvy Cape Town (as unlike dirty, neglected tourist-be-damned Durban as it’s possible to get), when a harbinger of doom accosted us – a worried gent who, claiming he was a professional meteorologist, and saying he hoped we didn’t think him crazy, earnestly informed us that he was very afeared that within hours the wind would become so violent the only safety to be found would be in the confines of the covered shopping mall. “I’m talking Hurricane Katrina type of thing,” he said, and before we could ask how or why, he was dashing away, hair flying, half-scuttering, half-loping along the promenade to repeat his prophecy of doom to another huddle of equally non-plussed bystanders.

Well, it’s 8.40 p.m now. No hurricane as yet. But all afternoon the wind has grown, and driving up the winding trail to Table Mountain in the early afternoon, the car was rocking, buffeted by gust after bullying gust, making steering difficult. So we spent the afternoon driving from wind-ragged hills to wind-ragged rocky coastline, taking in the views, taking short snappy walks, happy to let the ozone assault chase away the fatigue of that ridiculously early start.

Now, after a handsome supper at Miller’s Thumb, we’re tucked up in our room in a cosy B&B, just a short drive out from the city centre where it’s quiet and safe, while the wind that didn’t quite make it to Katrina-hood, whips around the building and rattles the ancient sash windows.

And what of Butterfly? Well, Gideon will leave Durban today, too, so it falls to Steven to see she’s taken care of while we’re gone. She still needs some things finishing; some things fixing – if she didn’t, we’d be sailing her away out of South African waters to avoid the visa expiry problem. But if someone had told us back in early May when we flew out to take delivery of her, that come November we’d be repeating the process- a full six months later, well, we’d have laughed in disbelief. But there ya go: come November 9th we’ll be flying back to Durban for that very purpose. Only now we’re not laughing in disbelief; we’re laughing with wry and weary acceptance that she’ll be ready when she’s ready … and not before.

Well, well, well …

… or rather, whale, whale, whale.  Out sailing with Gideon today and we were treated to a right royal display of playfulness from a pod of whales. First sighting was a series of high spurtings here and there some distance from us – sudden high guysers of white spray that broke in relief against the horizon. Then occasionally a whale would surface and with a spirited flick of its tail fin, dive back below. Every time we’ve been out on Butterfly, we’ve been spoiled with a show from Ma Nature. First the dolphins, later a basking turtle, then a shark, now whales.  For all the wretched pollution of Durban Marina (it really is abysmal), and the heavy traffic in and out of Durban port, the waters around here are very much alive and kicking – well alive and finning, might be better. And you know what? It’s really both amazing and reassuring to discover that man’s selfish carelessness, while utterly deplorable, hasn’t entirely killed off the sea-life around these parts. If you could see (and smell) the thick drift of non-biodegradeable garbage and diesel spillage that clogs the marina waters, I think you’d understand my surprise.

Anyhoo, it’s been a long day, but a good one. The weather behaved itself impeccably for once, and with winds between 10-15 kph, a dry sky and a subdued sea, conditions were excellent for testing the watermaker, trying out the 75 sq. metre gennaker, and playing with the anchor – to see if the bridle attachment would work satisfactorily.  And the results? Well, the watermaker makes water alright, but we couldn’t get the autoflush cycle to work and nor could we get it to divert freshwater to the galley tap. So a little tinkering needed there. The genny flew nicely, but we need slightly longer sheets. And as for the anchor and bridle biz – well, the anchor’s fine but the bridle attachment hook didn’t want to stay on the chain. So tomorrow, when we take Butterfly out again (weather willing), we’ll have another play with it and see how things go then.  May be that we need a different attachment, of course, but nothing that can’t be solved fairly painlessly, we’re sure.

Soooooo – All in all, a very pleasant day and Butterfly winged along zippily and happily without a grumble – she’s a natural, working in harmony with the water that bears her, rather than fighting it. But the sighting of those whales – well, that really was the highpoint of the day.

One last thing: even when she’s covered in Durban dirt, and in need of a robust hosing down, Butterfly’s still a bit of a head-turner. A genuinely pretty boat. And it’s flagrant bragging (but also a truism), to say we get frequent enquiries from people passing along the pontoon asking who she belongs to and much praise for her looks. Today, was no exception, and a couple from Free State who took a shine to her packaging, were very keen to take a look at her interior too. Of course we were happy to oblige, but we’ve got so used to her looks now that it kinda comes as a surprise, albeit a very pleasant one, that somebody else should admire her so enthusiastically. But it strikes me that some of our surprise is due in part to our being so in the habit now of looking for snags, we don’t see her as others do. Hopefully, by the time we return here in mid-November, we can at last abandon snag-searching since 99% should be resolved by then, and we too can relax and focus on her loveliness instead.

This, my friends …

… is what an African full moon looks like. No fancy dslr for this shot, either, just the humble Panasonic Fz18 at full telephoto stretch. Why post it? Well not because its the finest quality picture, that’s for sure, but because that mellow ol’ moon was the icing on a pretty damn fine day.

Mid morning, we hurried down to the marina and decided to take Butterfly for a sail. The wind was due to get lively in the afternoon, but as usual, the weather hadn’t read the forecast, so there was already a fresh wind blowing by the time we got there about 10.30 am. Once beyond the relative calm of Durban Port, out on a spangling froth-capped sea, the tempo picked up considerably. And for 3 hours or so, we had us a ball, skipping over the waves and letting her get some much needed air to her sails – they’ve been furled or tucked up in a sailbag for far too long. The jib was fine, but the mainsail has a rash of Durban dirt clinging to it that has trickled in through the openings in the sailbag; Durban dirt has a tenacity all of its own, but nothing that won’t wash off with a bit of enthusiastic hosing. Anyhoo, it was just plain grand. The sun, which has suddenly become far more ferocious this past week or so, glistened from a cobalt sky, its heat made kind upon the skin by a sharp and skittish blow which kept us nicely busy.

But being busy made us appreciate again the excellent layout of the boat. For example, the FastCat arrangement of having all major winches along the transom and stern was a major selling point for us. The comfort, effectiveness, and sense of security of being able to stand, with plenty of room, without stooping or having to twist to winch, cannot be overstated. Another bonus being the ease and speed of movement to and from the winches without negotiating an obstacle course of different levels, ducking under biminis, clambering over seats etc.  It must be one of the most user-friendly boats to move about and all the safer for it – far less chance of stumbling, twisting and spraining.

Anyway, will keep this post short tonight – so allow me one last chortle and then I’ll schtum it without further ado. Here goes, then: apart from the fun of taking Butterfly out on our own at last – sailing, not motoring – we also had us our first encounter with … a shark! Only a small one, tis true – nothing more than 4 foot or thereabouts – but hey, it was pure pedigree shark from gill to tailfin.  The surprising thing was that it was jetting along so near the surface – and so near us – only a couple of metres away.  Where he was heading, we’ve no idea, but wherever it was, he was in one helluva hurry. Too fast to get my camera and grab a shot, unfortunately. But there ya go – a fishy milestone for us, anyway.

Phew …

… and double phew! Yesterday, everything came together, at last, to replace Butterfly’s mast foot and heel. As some of you may remember, a few weeks back, we had a sudden and rather alarming case of electolysis show up around the base of the mast (though thankfully, not the mast itself). The cause, we were told, was mainly due to a faulty relay in the windlass control box – though there’s still some confusion over the precise details. The problem has been fixed for some time, but we had to wait for both crane availability and the right weather to replace the affected components. This work was originally booked to be done when Butterfly was weighed, but strong winds stopped play. The second crane booking was this Thursday just gone, but since neither the boom or mainsail had been removed in readiness, the exercise would have taken considerably longer than it should have. Unfortunately, a nasty weather front was due in about midday on Thursday, so Dick and I were unwilling to let the repairs go ahead, feeling that it was risky because of the extended time needed to remove the boom and sail – and get the job done properly.  So, rather dispiritedly, we motored back to the marina and everyone chipped in removing the mainsail and boom in readiness for the following day, when CTC Cranes kindly agreed to remake the booking. And later on that Thursday, as forecast, a very nasty thunderstorm with strong gusts, and tumultuous rain did indeed arrive.

However, third time lucky proved true in Butterfly’s case. Friday’s weather was settled and fair with little wind all day. In glorious sunshine (I have the freckles to prove it) – the old mast foot and heel were removed and new components installed. Getting the old mast foot off was heavy work. The adhesive (name escapes me) was absolutely ferocious and it took much chiselling and sawing with cheese wire to free it. A reassuring exercise since this same adhesive is used to secure Butterfly’s windows. It’s used by the aviation industry and it’s impressive stuff. In fact, with the boat properly prepared this time, despite the hour or so it took to unglue the mast foot, the whole exercise went smoothly, and with no threat of wild weather imminent, we were very glad we insisted on waiting.

Today, Butterfly’s boom and mainsail were reinstated and the mast electrics reconnected. So a big sigh of relief all round. And another sigh of relief that the diesel tank leak appears to be sorted now. This leak, although very small, was one persistent sonofagun, so with all the glass, epoxy and specialised paint that’s been thrown at the problem, we now have a tank to outlast them all.  It’s already been tested once, and will be done again on Monday – but certainly today, when Dick and I took her out motoring this afternoon, there wasn’t a drop of leak to be seen anywhere. (But if these turn out to be famous last words, I think I’ll cry … loudly and messily).

In fact, very, very cautiously, we’re beginning to feel we’ve turned a corner. The snag list is very small and only the finishing of the saloon doors will take a little time – all the other jobs are so quick to do (or bloody well should be!). Of course, we’ve still to take her for proper sea trials and yes, there’s still some electrical equipment to try out – the watermaker for one – but at least with everything else more or less done, those sea trials can’t be that far away – only a matter of days.

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On a different note now: At the end of October, we’ll have been here six months, and our visas expire for the second time. The authorities won’t let us renew them a second time. Nor will they allow us to hop over the border for a couple of days and then hop back. So plans are afoot to return to England for a couple of weeks. Ironic that just as Butterfly is finally coming close to being finished, we have to disappear! Going home is an expensive solution to the problem – but we haven’t got much choice, and besides, we’re much looking forward to spending time with our two talented, handsome, gorgeous, graciously witty, precociously sagacious offspring. Hey – I’m a proud mother, what else can I say?

Catching up …

• … on the past few days, here’s a brief(ish) summary of recent events in chronological(ish) order (albeit  a little more -ish than chron-):

• After the weigh-in last Thursday, Jon (surveyor), Gideon, Dick and I had some lunch together and then wandered back to the boat. There we found Doug dripping wet and with blood pouring from his ear and a set of very nasty grazes on his back. He’d been trying to retrieve something from the rubber duck, which was strung up on the davitts. He’d leant just a little too far, and lost his balance. Tumbling into the duck, his weight had uptipped the duck and he’d been thrown out into the water – hitting the jagged protrusions of the pontoon as he went. Ouch and double Ouch. His injuries include a broken rib, some cracked vertebrae, a broken bone in his ear and some large areas of missing skin. All this and to such a gentle man. Life cuts up rough, sometimes – and quite unfairly. Needless to say, we’re hoping he’ll mend soon and feels a little more comfortable than he does at present. Get well, Mr Irvine.

• And get well soon, Mr Stoole, too. Ken, who has done such a valiant job on our electrics and electronics, is also recovering  – but after a much-needed back operation.  And we know Mr G has also just had a brief sojourn in hospital, so things really do come in threes – even those involving bandages and sticking plasters. Lets hope that’s the end of this little Emergency Ward 10 spate (only those Brits over the age of 45 will understand the reference, so apologies to the rest of you).

• A huge push this week to finish the boat once and for all. Steven has been down at the marina supervising things every day.  This supervision is paying off.  Jobs are being whittled off the snag list nice and rapidly.

• Unfortunately, the replacement mastfoot and plate can’t be fitted until next Thursday, thanks to a shortage of cranes. Or rather, thanks to CTC Cranes who are an excellent outfit, being fully booked till then. So again, we must pray for calm weather that day – let’s just hope our prayers are answered a little more satisfactorily than the last time.  We really don’t need the gusty havoc we had when trying to weigh the boat, that’s for sure.

• Also, we’re awaiting the delivery of a replacement Mastervolt unit – the inverter. The original one proved intermittently faulty, so a new one has been ordered. Also on order a new windlass and Raymarine Autopilot head. The old windlass would have done the job after repairs to its control box, but we’ve decided to upgrade to a beefier model to be on the safe side. The autopilot (ST 8002) had an intermittent fault (like the inverter) and we’ve opted to go for a push-button model this time (ST 7002). I think those are the right model numbers anyway – but don’t quote me, it’s late, it’s been a long day, and I have a Cinderella brain tonight. (All together now ….. ahhhh).

• The new leatherwork for the saloon seats has been started and should be finished within the fortnight. The woman who makes it is has excellent skills and we can’t wait to see the results of her labour.

• The new saloon doors should arrive tomorrow to be fitted. Have high expectations of these too. They are impressively robust and that’s very much to our liking.

• Much cosmetic tidying up and titivating going on, paintwork, buffing, polishing, cleaning -  and Butterfly’s definitely looking prettier and smarter by the hour, and although I feel I ought to whisper this softly in case I’m tempting fate – hey,  we really do feel as if we’re in the home strait now. That is to say, we might just be, almost, only a whisker away, ever-so-nearly, within arm’s reach of, a mere hop and a skip away  …  of the finishing line. At least, in terms of build. Then come the sea trials and testing of all the electrical goodies on board – well those that we haven’t already proven sound.

There’s a whole raft of other things going on boatwise – mainly to do with sorting out insurance and paperwork, stuff like that, but hardly a riot to read about. So we’ll leave it there for now.

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One last item, totally non-boat-related. Creepy-crawly related instead. This past week, on two occasions when the wind blew fierce and strong in the evening, our balcony was smothered in confused beetles. Some were very dead confused beetles too. Last year, when we came out to the B&B to check on Butterfly in her earlier stages, the same thing happened – and it was this same last week in September too. It’s as if the wind has scooped up swarms of these drab little creatures and thrown them against the night smashing them into the walls of houses and trees and any other surface that stands in the path of their trajectory.  We’ve asked around and nobody knows what these beetles are called, or why this happens, but if anyone reading this can shed some light, we’d love to know. Anyhoo, here’s a small sample of what we woke up to the following morning:

Those above are the luckier ones who survived the crash landing.

Today the wind has roared fierce and loud all day long and taking a look out the window just now, Dick tells me we have another invasion of concussed critters. Mother Nature has some strange and brutal ways …

Ooops, just checked the clock and it’s time this bleary-eyed Cinderella called it a day.

Sleep tight, y’all!

Grovelling apologies …

… for another long radio silence. Expect update sometime later today – or tonight. Well, before the Cinderella hour strikes, anyway. But for now, our pumpkin awaits and to Durban we must vamoosh … Vroooooom!