» Features

- Join Here
- Terms & Conditions
- What is Writers Club?

"Sheet in the main!" he yelled hysterically and I threw myself to the deck as the boom came flying through the air at a rate of knots, whistling as it passed, missing my head by inches.

"And this was supposed to be fun?", I thought, my nose squashed against the steel railing on the starboard side of the yacht. "A perfect example of what not to do", my instructor was saying sternly, wagging a long brown wrinkled finger in my face. "Accidental gybes can kill".

But it's not all plain sailing. My four day sailing course at the Royal Cape Yacht Club was exciting, to say the least. Anyone who has some time to kill, loves the ocean and doesn't care if their legs look like a warzone, should definitely enrol. It's the best fun anyone can have with a 30 ft vessel.

Every morning we grouped together in the classroom for a 'bit of theory'. Surprisingly enough, this was rather fun. Well, our instructor, an ex Royal Navy Sub Operator, has been across the Atlantic more times than he cares to remember, and has navy tatoos that my father would envy, done in Ceylon - before it became Sri Lanka. This man is a feature film waiting to happen.

The walls of the classroom were lined with maps from ages past, necessary flags that every good skipper should carry on board (November over Charlie means 'I require assistance') and an assortment of model yachts, ropes and knots.

After learning many round turns and two half hitches, man-overboard procedures, climatic conditions, Cape Town harbour regulations, and how to call a "mayday, mayday, mayday, moonshine, moonshine, moonshine, mayday, moonshine" on the VHF (very high frequency) radio, we set off for the wide ocean blue.

We were anxious to get out there. There was a light southwesterly blowing - the perfect wind for sailing. The sea was calm and unbelievably blue, the sun hot on our factor 30 protected faces.

Alas, our instructor made us put up and take down the mainsail (still in the harbour) so many times, I can now do it single-handedly, blindfolded, and in my sleep. Not that this is a bad thing. Quite the opposite in fact. You never know when you're going to have to whip down a sail for a man overboard recovery.

Finally we headed out of the yacht basin. Now the Portnet tower tells you when something is coming in or out of the respective docks. For example, a flashing red light means a ship is entering Ben Schoeman dock (that's the big smelly one) and you'd better look out or you might find yourself bow to bow with a Korean Container Tanker, and they're not the friendliest people around, especially when you're only 30ft long and in their way.

We made it clear of all other vessels, and motored out into the bay. Once settled in an obstruction free zone, we hoisted the sails, set our course, trimmed the main and yeah! we're sailing!

As afternoon approached, the wind picked up to around 35 knots (that's fairly hardcore) and before long we were sailing at a 45 degree angle, starboard beam in the water, hooked onto the railing on the port side, hanging out over the beam and riding high. We reached 8.6 knots that day. Not for the faint-hearted.

Overall, a fantastic experience. A warning though, this course can seriously damage your career. All I wanted to do was jump on the first yacht sailing to the Caribbean and never come back! And there are several leaving this time of year, so if you're of the spontaneous variety, make sure you've got a friend close by to hold you back!