Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
well known Cape Argus newspaper man, Lawrence Greene, who wrote several wonderful
books on southern Africa and her neighboring islands. Had I have known earlier, I would
have put into Ascension Island.
The next landfall would be the little island of Fernando de Noronha, which was named after
a notorious pirate that had lived there and had supposedly buried his treasure somewhere
on this island, now fifteen hundred miles north-northwest of us.
The trades were brisk as we started off, putting us on a downwind run, and Herman and I
set both big Genoas flying with their respective whisker poles anchored to the mast. Déjà
vu made good time, thanks to the walker log, which was a marvelous little piece of engin-
eering: it is an instrument that is secured to the aft taffrail and has a trailing line with a small
impeller attached. The impeller revolves through the water as the boat moves forward. It
accurately records sea miles and increments thereof for the purpose of navigation. Our
course inexorably took us into mild and windless equatorial regions, and the wind began to
die out. The Atlantic Ocean, however, afforded us lots of flying fish, and some mornings I
would go above and be dazzled by the hundreds of little, silver fish strewn all over decks
and cabin sides. Sometimes I would scoop up the bigger ones, clean off the wings, and fry
them crispy and crunchy for breakfast on the swinging stove. The other two would turn
their noses up after attempting to eat them only once.
I discovered that if the night sea produced a lot of phosphorescence, then the following
day would be calm and windless. Somehow these communities of living cells would know
of the pending calm. They would rise to the surface and, if disturbed by any movement
in the water, would glow a beautiful green color in communication with the other cells. It
was particularly fascinating to watch as dolphins or porpoises arrived in the night through
this phosphorescence. The trails they left behind through the dark water were suddenly lit
up with streams of curving, green, glowing lights, and as the dolphins would hurtle out of
the sea, so would the lights; it was like a wonderful fireworks display. The aforementioned
walker log had a propeller that trailed behind the boat on a fifty-foot length of line. This
propeller also created a blazing, green trail as it churned through the water. Unfortunately,
it also attracted sharks, and we lost quite a few of those little, black propellers.
The days that followed us into the equator were lazy, windless days. This was as much a
part of sailing as sailing in the trades. It was a time to exercise patience and to do things
other than fret and worry about the lack of wind. We would spend long hours lying in the
sun, swimming in the cool, purple water as the boat sat motionless on her haunches. The
water was incredibly clear, and one could see to great depths. An empty sardine can tossed
overboard could be seen glittering down a long way through the blue void. It would give
me the creeps to consider all that was between us and the long way down was this little,
home-made boat and its fragile hull.
