We arrived in Richard's Bay on November 5, and we intended to stay only for a couple days. Though we made it through our Mozambique Channel passage unscathed, the worst was actually yet to come. This coast, also known as the “Wild Coast,” “Shipwreck Coast,” “Cape of Storms” promised to be every bit as challenging as anywhere else we've sailed just yet. The guidance we received from volunteer weather router, Dez, did not mince words:

And so, we set about hunting for safe weather windows like the wreck divers around here hunt for rubies. It took…longer than planned.

We enjoyed our “Welcome Brain Tickler” (the Covid PCR test now required to enter most new countries) we were led to the Zululand Yacht Club where we lashed Sonrisa down tight to her first set of South African marina cleats.

Here, the days on the odometer ticked by while captains studied the weather for potential openings in wave after wave of severe Southerly weather billowing up from Antarctica. Even Pete and Jen who were a bit desperate to move on to Cape Town as fast as possible stayed almost twenty when they intended to stay only three.

“I think I see it!” Pete would say to Andrew, examining a “developing” weather window as an option. Andrew would watch the swirling purple and red weather march its way across his screen and hum with doubt. Once you are out at sea here, there are only a handful of specific places to pull in for safety, and not all of them are good for all styles of weather.

“I don't see it."

In the meantime, we were introduced to some of our favorite points of South African culture: yacht clubs and Braais. These aren't the Yacht Clubs you might imagine - with accosts, sweater vests and loafers - South African yacht clubs are for real salty sailors brave enough to dare sail this awesome coast. Our first night at Zululand, we find international cruising sailors and local South Africans alike clogging the passage to the bar with their sea yarns. Bottles of South African made beer, wine, gin and brandy glow under light, backed by mirrors across a polished wooden bar. The bar tender cheerfully gest to know the new sailors in town as se guides us on options for our New Anchorage Beer.

In addition to the classic Yacht Club bar, no Yacht Club in South Africa would be complete without a set of Braais. What is a Braai? “It's just a BBQ!” one American sailor friend insisted.

This raised the ire of any South African who could hear. “It. Is. NOT. just. a BBQ!”

I will admit, the South African Braai is distinguishable at least in nuance from American BBQ. A Braai is usually a brick or rock laden structure with a space beneath a grate for charcoal, the grate, and space for cooking meat and vegetables on top. (Sounds just like a BBQ, doesn't it? Bear with me.) First, the fuel for a Braai must always, always be charcoal. Apparently a gas is grill is not acceptable. Also, the Braai culture differs in scale. We Americans love our BBQs and enjoy grilling out for Fourth of July, Labor Day, and a random weekend here and there with our friends. But, Braai? At Zululand Yacht Club alone, there was Monday Night Bring & Braai, Wednesday Night Yacht Club Meeting Braai, and Friday Night Braai. In between these club sanctioned events, the Braai pits were kept constantly glowing by random groups of people who decided to Braai without scheduled options. Every house we pass has a “Braai kitchen" in their yard, every park or open space is filled with Braai pits, and they always have groups of South Africans circling around cooking things that we might cook in the US like corn on the cob and steak, but you also are very likely to find long, winding sausages coiled in ropes called Boreworst and maybe even Wildebeest. No one BBQs their Wildebeest for dinner in the US, I dare say.

“Mmm, it's good. quite similar to beef,” Andrew reports, having been offered a taste of one of his former brothers by a South African man salting his medium rare cut of Wildebeest after finishing it on the Braai.

"I can't believe you ate a Wildebeest. Aren’t they your soulmates?”

“No! Spirit Animal! It's entirely different.”

The Braais at Zululand Yacht Club usually came with music night built of various musician-sailors, local and international alike. One of our friends carries with him a whole base guitar and speaker set, a French Couple in town had an accordion and a fiddle. One local man brought a nice keyboard, and another French sailor is apparently a classically trained pianist who could sit down and play whole movements from classical composers like Beethoven and Chopin. This only added to the Braai Night charm. We enjoyed meeting a whole new fleet of sailors, some who sailed all the way from the South Pacific in this last year alone because the normal stops were Covid-Closed and they had to just keep moving.

It was here we all received presentations from the National Sea Rescue Institute - South Africa’s version of the Coast Guard. These presentation amounted to reminder after reminder: “this coast eats little ships for lunch.” They promised they would try to come fetch us from trouble, but no guarantees were made that it would work out in our favor.

And so, we did that thing we seem to have to learn and relearn on this trip: relax and enjoy. We’ll get there when we get there.

Katherine Hepburn took to waiting on deck each day to receive a new suitor - an orange yard cat I named “Romeo.” Every night around 2 a.m., he would arrive to sing poetry to her from the dock. In response, Kitty would yell and yell at him from atop her perch until Andrew or I would stick our heads out the hatch, clap our hands and tell him to shuffle off down the road.

“The Lady does not appreciate your advances!” I told him.

But, he didn’t listen. One night, we returned from the Monday Night Bring & Braai to find a wet and sad looking cat sitting in a puddle in Sonrisa's salon.

“What happened, Kitty!?”

I think Romeo chased her down the dock and she apparently miscalculated some flight plan or another. Her head, though, was completely dry. We hosed her off in the shower and scrubbed her down with a washcloth to remove the excess salty water. Then she licked and licked for about 24 hours straight until her fur was as soft and shiny as I've ever seen it.

Eat your heart out, Romeo.

We celebrated Mark a.k.a. Anchorage Dad's birthday (S/V Erie Spirit) at the golf club with Tomahawk Steak…

… and we set up movie night on Steel Sapphire's sail for our annual Captain Ron viewing.

It was just before Thanksgiving that Pete could stand the delay no longer.

“I see a weather window."

There might be one, if you squint, but it started the day before Thanksgiving only got really good Thanksgiving night, and then closed again the morning after Thanksgiving unless you could get all the way past a certain point that looked to be far further than we could sail in the short timeframe we had to get there.

“You head out while things are still a little crappy, but dying back. You can bail out at East London if you were running behind, though." Pete said.

But, Thanksgiving!

Andrew pointed to a convergence zone that drew a straight line between 30 knots of wind and nothing. “This area looks like it could be really unpredictable. Any time I’ve seen that weather pattern, we’ve had major squalls and lighting.”

Pete shrugged. “Gotta go ugly early, and get through that area before the next low comes in.”

With an imperfect weather window as our option, turkey and stuffing sounded much better. Pete and Jen being Australian were sad to miss it, but have misguided priorities. So, the day before Thanksgiving, between constructing the green bean casserole and overnight pea salad, Andrew and I paused to untie Steel Sapphire's lines to watch them crab-walk out of their wall tie sideways by using their extra engine (yes they have two!) and their bow thrusters.

“Fair winds, see you in Cape Town!" we said waving. It felt like a foreshadowing, to watch Steelie’s stern recede in the distance without us. "We really need to figure out what we are doing for 2022." I say to Andrew, my hand still in the air mid-wave.

“Not until after Thanksgiving!” Andrew says, "Back to work with you!"

As tradition required, Andrew whipped up his pumpkin pie filling in the engine room (our 120 volt process blender from the US died, and now our only plug that can handle the 240 volt equipment you can buy the rest of the world over is located in the engine room as a direct tie off to shore power.

And the cat - who has turned into a little heat seeker since we arrived in this chilly, humid, cold-country - found herself a nice sun patch next to the warm oven.

On Thanksgiving Day, both Andrew and the cat sniffed the air impatiently from the cockpit for hours on end.

“Is the turkey done yet?” Andrew would call out.

“I don’t know what do you think?” Andrew would peek his head through the crack in Sonrisa’s oven door, gauging doneness entirely by whether he thought Pete would regret leaving the turkey behind.

Just in time for dinner, Andrew declared: “Oh yes, Pete is going to regret leaving this turkey behind!" \

Thanksgiving was a well attended affair, with food contributions from the whole fleet. We originally planned on having about 25 sailors, until someone in the fleet asked if we could include an incoming boat: S/V Ohana. “Sure! What’s a couple more?” We all said, not realizing that Ohana houses thirteen people between parents, kids, sailing crew, and child care attendant! But these people are bundles of boundless energy. Having just finished their passage from La Reunion, they still baked a huge lasagna and a Pecan pie to contribute to the meal, showed up in high spirits, and then turned around and took that Thanksgiving Night weather window twelve hours onward to Durban!

We’ve never actually met circumnavigators who finish their circuit in one year or two. Since arriving in Richard’s Bay, we’ve met several who are trying. The pace they keep is extremely fast; they sail by these Turtleish-Oddogdfreys in a blur.

“Have we lost sight of the plan?” I wonder at times. In the days and weeks to come, we’d have to face our own decision making on this point, plan where we are going next and how. But, for Thanksgiving night, we rubbed our full bellies, fell into a Triptophan induced snooze, and spent the rest of the weekend decorating Sonrisa for Christmas and starting our march through the traditional Christmas Movie viewing schedule with our friends Matt, Jen, Conrad and Mark on S/V Perry.

The Steelies, on the other hand, made a direct beeline to Cape Town. They had all kinds of weather, some that kicked full waves across their stern, to poop their center cockpit. With Steelie's high free board and center cockpit, that wave had to be HUGE to get in there. This story made us glad to be tied up and dry for at least a few days more. Even after Pete tried to make us jealous over his Post-Passage Turkey Replacement:

At this point, Andrew's itchy feet couldn't stay in place any longer. What are we missing out on? Why aren't we traveling around more on this side of the country before we go? it's time to start exploring South Africa!