Recap of the entrance to Cape Town from Jared....

Since our harrowing tow and docking into Hout Bay on December 11th by South Africa Sea Rescue, much good has transpired in this beautiful, conflicted, and intriguing country of South Africa.  As they say, all disasters are similar in the fact that they are triggered by a series of compounding events and bad luck, such was that day and night that we shall never forget and will be happy to never re-live.  Furthermore, all events like these have those quick-to-act and quick-thinking heroes of which we should sing the praises of my beloved mother who made frantic calls to the authorities and the Hout Bay unit of Sea Rescue, an amazing group of professionals who saved our boat and maybe more.  As I write this, I'm a little emotional about the events of that scary experience.  It is a story of how quickly things can and do go wrong out here on the deep blue.

My brother, Travis, has done a wonderful job at getting the information out about the what transpired that day and night, far better than the local news which said we had rescued another World Arc boat by the name of "Chessie" (rescued by Sea Rescue after rudder failure). All I want to do is give you a quick first-hand account of the last hours of what was actually a nice four-day run from Durban.  Hours within approach of the harbor, seas and winds began to pick up to 35 knots and above sustained.  As we tried to roll in our jib to adjust for the rapidly declining conditions our furler jammed on our Genoa.  As Oisin and I tried to manually roll it up, a pin broke making this an impossible task.  We dropped the sail on deck and secured it with lines as howling winds and crashing waves continued to increase and make work outside the cockpit a bit more than dicey.  Trying to further reduce sail, the Skip tried to roll up the main and to our amazement and fear, it jammed as well.  We put the "Brown-Eyed Girl into the wind and Oisin and I tried to pull the main down but with little control of the boat at this point the main was flapping so hard it was an impossible task.  We struggled at this for a while when Oisin suggested to put the boat downwind and make another attempt.  It worked!  We rolled up the main.  With a 2 knt current working against us, no sail to power us, and winds now reaching 45 knts and above our little 80hp motor would be put to the test.  At this point we could hear radio communications between our fellow boat "Chessie" and Sea Rescue and realized they were having a bad day as their rudder failed and they were dead in the water.  Over the course of the next hour and a half we made a mere 1/4 mile of headway.  Light was beginning to fade and the situation was tenuous.  Sea Rescue contacted us and asked if we wanted a tow into the Hout's Bay and yes it is true, the Skip did ask how much this would cost.  Priceless.  Let's be clear and realize that we cold have just motored or drifted toward Cape Town but as winds were recorded at 90 knts while getting towed that night, I'm glad we didn't.  Unbeknownst to us, mom had arranged for the two rescues when she realized we hadn't made landfall and conditions were predicted to deteriorate. The sight of Sea Rescue charging toward us was a welcome sight to weary eyes.  The tow was uneventful until we approached the harbor and winds directed down the mountain passes had know reached 65-75 knts.  The plan was to berth us on the lee-side of a pier by using two rescue boats to push us against the ever-increasing wind while the good citizens and responders of Sea Rescue on the pier tossed lines to secure the boat.  We struggled at this for over an hour.  The horrible sound of lines stretching once secured to pier will be etched into our memories.  After being secured, we headed up to yacht club and grabbed a hot shower as we were drenched to the bone and quite cold.  Walking along the pier, sand from an adjacent beach pelted us and the salt wind burned our eyes.  We crouched as we walked.  Standing up would have assured a quick flight and drop into the icy waters.  We slept well, when we did manage to fall asleep.  We awoke to a sunny day and realization that our main boom was cracked, our solar panels had been blown off the boat (we were able to retrieve one), our bodies were aching, and our Genoa was torn.  The Indian ocean went out like a lamb while the Atlantic surprised us and greeted us like an enraged, charging lion.

On a far better note, Mercedes arrived December 15th and the two of us began a whirlwind tour of the country by car visiting Krueger National Park where we saw the big five (elephant, lion, rhino, cape buffalo, and leopard) up close and personal and a cobra and stayed at the Royal Krueger Lodge were we were pampered as we were the only guests, then to Drakensberg Mountains in Champagne Valley where we hiked to a waterfall and slept in a traditional rondival (round, adobe house typical of Africa), set off to celebrate Christmas in Port Elisabeth, and then met up with Mom and Dad and headed to Simmonstown to see the penguins and the Cape of Good Hope, and finally to Cape Town where on the most beautiful of evenings, the most beautiful of ladies officially became my fiance and accepted a diamond ring from me upon Signal Hill.  The day after that very same mountain burned when arsonists set it ablaze.  We've managed to find a way to say that is a good omen of things to come.  The last days of our trip were spent taking the cable car up Table mountain, visiting the infamous district six and learning its sad story of the abuses of Apartheid, day trips around the city, visiting and dining with Mom and Dad, and fighting the several hundred pound seals on the dock to make headway to board the boat.   Bar none, our time together seeing this wonderful country of South Africa was the time of my life.  Yesterday, Merce and I said our good-byes and I made my way back to the boat grateful to be so blessed to have her in my life again and for having had such a wonderful time and a little bored at the prospect of a 1700 mile trip to the isle of Saint Helena.   As always, love and miss you all.  Te amo, Merce.