Stunning

South Africa is stunning. Its landscapes are bold, the people friendly.

We rented a car for a two day junket to Drakensberg Mountains. The first day we drove to Underberg and hiked a couple of hours up a meadow in the foot hills. Next morning, after a hearty 0630 breakfast at a B&B, we hiked up Sani Pass from the South African border to Lesotho. This was a 16 km round trip, climbing and descending nearly 3000 feet. Mark sprinted up in 90 minutes, Eitan in 120, and Irena and I staggered into Africa’s highest pub at the top after a 150 minute climb – it was a beast but we made it up. After the best pub chicken curry and coldest beers in the world we walked back down to the car and drove back to Durban before dark. Big enough two days for me!

After a couple of day’s recovery, a weather window cracked open for the sail from Durban down the East African Coast to East London. Its only 255 miles of coastline, but once we out of the comfort and safety of harbour, we would be committed. In this part of the world, the sea never seems to rest: Its either blowing in hell in one direction, or blowing like hell in another. The passage to East London happens between a 3 to 6 knot current down one side and an unbroken wall of coastline on the other. There is no place to duck in out of the storms that blow through every two or three days and wind against the Agulhas current conditions creates legendary monster seas.

As recommended, we left on the back of a passing system. We had about 36 hours before the next system was due to blow in from the SW and we hoped to get a head start. From 10 am until just before dark we beat into 25 knots of SW wind. It was really unpleasant sailing –  huge southerly waves were coming from ahead and a NE swell were bashing up from behind. It was, as I like to say, like sailing in a giant washing machine. After dark the wind went light and began to clock (change direction in a clockwise direction). With no time to hang around before the next system came in, we started the engine but after about an hour it choked from fuel starvation. From 1130 to 0300 I changed all three fuel filters and bleed everything living part of the fuel system I could think of. No joy. I was concerned we’d not make port before the next South Westerly. But by dawn the wind had come all the way around to NE and it started to blow. It soon hit 30 knots, but it was at our backs and we were moving with the current. We were doing 8 and 9 knots through the water and 11 and 12 knots over the bottom with genoa only. Wow, now this is sailing!

The first monster wave surprised us. We broached to wind and it pounded down over the port side, filling the cockpit, tearing the dodger, and soaking Eiton, Irena and I, leaving us open mouthed and gasping. We were more ready for the second wave when it hit, with a boom. It climbed over the transom, and tried to get into the aft cabin. Not able to get down the companionway, it re-filled the cockpit instead. Below I spilled my tea and clung to the nav station, glad I wasn’t in the cockpit to get soaked again. A few moments later, when the cockpit had drained, we hit an all-time speed record of 13 knots through the water surfing down another wave!

Under these conditions I was getting concerned we could get safely into East London harbour once we got there. It’s a river entrance facing into the NW seas. Without the engine to help bail out, we would have to sail into the narrow slot amidst breaking seas and it would be very tough to back out in 30 knots of breeze if we got in trouble.  I had visions of breaking seas overwhelming us and being tossed up on the beach or rocks beside the entrance. So near yet so far. Now that is  “instant failure”.

But by late afternoon, we had a break. The winds and seas eased back to about 15 knots and we arrived just after sunset and sailed into harbour, surfing over the entrance bar. No sweat. Well lots of sweat, but by 2000 hours we were safe alongside the dilapidated inner harbour shipping docks, tired but pleased to be safe in East London. Another passage done.

After a day’s clean up in East London, tomorrow we set off for Port Elizabeth in another weather window. Another passage, another adventure.

Reflections.

I climbed into bed soon after tying up in East London, exhausted but curiously filled by the success of a passage safely completed. It is enough for anyone to deal with the motion, the physical hardship of no sleep and the tension of conning the boat down steep seas, but as skipper, I feel the added burden of responsibility. The skipper is the one who has to make decisions (manufacture certainty) in the face of uncertainty, the one to whom the crew looks for reassurance that it will be okay, the one who takes ultimate responsibility for how it goes, the one who must make the right decisions or else.

It is no different for all the leaders of the world. Not the politicians who mascaraed as leaders, but those unsung heroes of the workplace who put themselves on the line every day for the success of others or the organisation; the silent heroes who put their own needs for reassurance second to supporting others; the people who risk themselves so others may succeed; the people who care more for creating the vision of the greater good than they care for their own comfort.

This is a great privilege in life: to be in a place where we can lead. There is something in us that calls us to this challenge, this challenge to bring not just ourselves, but those around us to a greater place, to champion others in crossing their own desert of adversity. And leadership is not reserved for those in recognized roles of leadership. Every person, everyday has a chance to champion others, to put and support the success of the greater ahead of the self. When we are response-able, we are able to make this choice.

 Captaincy is a gift that gives twice: first to the people nurtured by acts of captaincy, then to the person who practices captaincy.