The good memories eclipse the bad
Issue 101 : Mar/Apr 2015
As I sit here writing this in my shed a million miles from the ocean, I gaze longingly at the chart on the wall. The winter rain gently pattering on the roof sounds, to me at least, a little like the swish of the bow wave that had been a constant companion for 34 days on a voyage a lifetime ago.
A mere 27 inches wide, that Cape Town to Rio de Janeiro chart represents an unfathomably large ocean, a bygone challenge, and a memory of a 3,500-nautical-mile voyage across the South Atlantic. I feel that memory fading, dying. It unsettles me. I want it refreshed.
Yes, I still recall how at the end of that voyage I swore off blue-ocean sailing. At the time, it was an immensely strong conviction of “Never again!” A small, miserably wet 30-foot boat, an incompatible crew, a worried family back home, and stress over the cost of all the unpaid leave needed to deliver a raceboat back across the South Atlantic to Cape Town — all aspects made the voyage of a lifetime seem less than ideal, certainly not something worth repeating. Or so I thought at the time.
That was eight years ago. Now, as I wear the “Been-there-done-that” T-shirt and sit looking at the expanse of ocean represented by the chart, I have but one burning desire: to do it again! And I have to ask, “Why?”
Sailing is not just something I’ve tried or dabble in every now and again. It’s an integral part of my life. More than that, it’s a compulsion, an addiction. I cannot get it out of my system. I cannot, no matter what, swear off the feel of a hard-pressed yacht on a beat in a 20-knot breeze.
As I reflect on that long-ago voyage, some things spring to mind that I wouldn’t wish to repeat. Indeed, will not repeat should there be any choice. A small, wet 30-foot Royal Cape One Design (RCOD) is not the boat for a comfortable crossing. Sailing with an unknown, never-sailed-before crew is certainly no better than doing the crossing singlehanded. A tight deadline is not conducive to relaxed sailing.
Next time, the boat will need self-steering, to be dry, to have a light on the compass, to have the capacity to carry enough water in proper tanks plumbed into the galley.
And so, as I sit here listening to the fading rain of a Highveld winter, I am resolved to give it another go, to take my Miura 31, Ocean Blue, an infinitely better boat for the trip than an RCOD, back to her spiritual home in the waters of the South Atlantic, back to sea.
Will I once again cross the South Atlantic to St. Helena and Brazil? I honestly don’t know. But the need, the burning desire to return Ocean Blue to the False Bay waters of the South Atlantic, there where she belongs, burns deep and strong in my soul.
At the very least, Ocean Blue’s hull will once again feel the salty waters of False Bay. And who knows? Maybe another South Atlantic crossing is in her (and my) future.
David Marx assumed the role of caretaker and skipper of Ocean Blue in late 2012. She’s a late 1970s 31-foot Miura built in Hout Bay, South Africa, and originally moored at False Bay Yacht Club in Simon’s Town. David is getting to know her, upgrading her, and preparing for a return to False Bay in the not-too-distant future.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
