Seychelles-Djibouti

map Seychelles to Djbouti

Saying goodbye to my friends yet again made me sad. It would be a lonely sail with just the family, but the plans were to meet up with Jolly Jumper and Dreamtime somewhere up the Red Sea.

Piwakawaka was a New Zealand Trimaran owned and sailed by Arthur, a rather elderly fellow with thick glasses. His crew, Steve, a young Aussie picked up in Australia, was leaving around the same time as us.

Franda II left Seychelles on Mar 3 1978. We had spent Christmas in Kenya, so we hadn't got very far in the last 2 months. The trip to Djibouti was just over 1500 NM, so it should take 15 days if the weather is good to us. This is unlikely as Franda II has been travelling in the Monsoon Zone since before leaving Darwin, and the NE winds were terrific as they travelled West. Now that we were finally turning north, the North Easterly Trades could make it a hard beat. Our path would take us directly north and around the Horn of Africa, planning to pass between Socotra (an island of Yemen) and the Easternmost point of the African Continent (Somalia).

The first few days were rather cloudy and uncomfortable. The sea was sloppy, causing Franda II to wallow. More wind and her motion would have been more comfortable and steady. We were making some Easting towards the old sailing ship routes as the current and wind would be more favourable. After 300NM to the East, we finally headed North. We had a slow and pleasant trip.

We two young girls took day watches alone now. So Mum and we two girls shared the day. There was often one or other of the male family members around. With only one 3-hour watch each during the night. The 3 men didn't require much extra sleep during the daytime.

Mum refreshed everyone's navigation skills. It was a race to see who could finish their computations first and whose answer would be closest to "the Navigator". We all had to take our own morning "sight". This "sight" could be taken any time between when the sun was two fingers above the horizon and an hour or so before it reached its Zenith. There was only one chance at the noon sight. The exact time is taken when the sun reaches its highest angle from the horizon; if this was missed, the position would be "out". Therefore, Mum would take the noon sight every second day to ensure our position, enabling one of "the crew" to practice finding the sun's meridian(reaching its maximum altitude when due north-south) the other day. However, once the meridian was located and time was recorded, we could all use the results to calculate our position. Usually, a "second" would be a timekeeper for the person taking the sun's altitude. Taking a sight with a sextant and getting the exact time was difficult by oneself.

The idea when using the sextant is to get the sun down to "kiss" the horizon via the sextant's mirrors. Then you take the exact time and the reading off the sextant. A sextant measures the sun's angle (or other celestial body or mountaintop) above the horizon. Then, taking into account how far we are above the water and using Martellies tables, Norris tables and the Nautical Almanac, we work out Latitude and Longitude.
The chronometer was an essential timepiece and checked as often as possible against the BBC's broadcast of Big Ben striking the hour. Franda II had numerous watches as backup, as 4 seconds could put our position out by one nautical mile.

On day 4, an off-white round object was sighted, so to alleviate the monotony, we pulled in our trolling line and dropped sails to investigate. As Franda II slowly closed the gap, we realised that under the guano was a hard orange plastic buoy. A rope dangled straight down below it, encrusted in barnacles and weed. With the growth, we deduced that it had been adrift for quite a while. I saw tiny crabs and fish swimming around the rope and hiding amongst the weeds. I looked further out from the rope and saw some triggerfish. Then, in the corner of my vision, I saw a flash. Turning my head, I just caught the outline of a larger fish. Concentrating on this area, I was rewarded with the sight of a 3-foot Dorado. Once again, the ecosystem held my attention. The further away from the buoy, the larger the predators. Each one looks towards the centre and the "circle" of food.

Stu wanted to catch another shark as he had started collecting shark jaws. He asked, "Anne, will you catch me some bait fish for my shark hook?" I was thrilled to comply, so I went below to the galley and grabbed an old cup and some flour. Adding a little water, I made a dough. On deck again, I massaged a little dough onto the hook and carefully lowered it over the side of Franda II. It was not long before the little fish were interested. However, as I watched, the tiny fish nibbled the dough off. Irritated, I had let them steal my bait; I pulled in my line and rebaited it. This time, I hoped that slightly bigger fish would be interested. To help encourage them, I threw a few bits of dough over the side. This time, I watched my bait slowly enter the water. When the little fish came to investigate, I lifted it out of the water so they could not steal the bait. Finally, a triggerfish a little larger became interested. He took the bait, and I could pull the 8-inch triggerfish onto the deck.

Stu was waiting with his Shark hook. He threaded the big hook through the poor little guy so he would sit upright when back in the water. Then Stu lowered the shark hook and chain over the side after he had tied one of Franda II's warps onto the chain. Mike went and fetched the shotgun in case Stu caught something huge. We did not want a live shark thrashing around on deck. It was not long before Stu had a shark, but it was small, only 4 feet long. He could easily handle it alone and hauled it in by the chain. Once on the deck, its head was cut off so Stu could cut the jaws out later. The back straps were removed for food, and he chose a nice chunk for his hook. Cutting the remaining shark into 4 pieces, Stu dropped them over the side along with his hook. He was hoping for a massive shark. However, sadly for Stu, he only caught another small one, which he let go. Meanwhile, I snagged another 2 undersized triggerfish, which I also let go.

A fun few hours of distraction, but the rest of the passage awaited. First, we hauled the buoy on board with the boat hook for a closer examination of the barnacles, weeds and sea anemones. Around 200 feet of rope was attached, which took a bit of hauling in. Stu had to wear gloves as the barnacles were sharp. It was then all dropped back into the ocean. Some crabs were left scuttling over the teak deck, which I carefully picked up and returned to their home. Then, with the sails hoisted, Franda II drifted on her way again.

The speedo stopped working again; this time, when Mike and Stu pulled it inboard through its hull fitting and seacock, nothing was left of it. The impeller and skeg were missing. Somehow, it had been broken off. It was a mystery how that could happen. Most yachts damage them by getting a rope caught on them. But, no sheets had been allowed to drag in the water, and no anchor lines had been used. The fishing line was always taken in when they stopped, so it remained a mystery. Finally, Mike and Stu borrowed parts from the spare old speedo, making it whole and working again. On Day 6, Mar 8, we celebrated crossing the equator with a dinner of shark meat. The certificates made by us sisters on the passage from Kenya to Seychelles were duly handed out. The date and latitude were handwritten on them. At around 20:00 hours, Franda II crossed the equator(0°0's) at the Longitude of 59°11'E.

One day, something went wrong with my morning site, and I was 120NM out. Unfortunately, when I checked my figures, I discovered it was not the "working out". It was the actual sextant/time reading. My sister may have written down the time incorrectly (8 minutes different), or I needed to concentrate more on separating the wave tops from the horizon. Although unhappy about the error, it did reinforce how effortless it was to be so far out in one's position.

Nine days in, and the weather was still very unsettled. Either Franda II was wallowing under overcast skies or racing along within squalls. Franda II was hit by squalls 2 or 3 times a day (24 hours). We were hit by a rather big squall just as tea (dinner) was being served on this day. We watched it march towards us, trying to guess whether it would miss us. The boys had already shortened sail for the night. More or all sails could be dropped, but we could risk losing control over Franda II's steerage. Also, the engine was not strong enough to keep her head to the wind if it was gale force, so there was nothing more to do. When we realised Franda II would cross paths with this squall, we girls were warned to make the galley safe and come on deck. As dusk descended, the family watched the lightning flit within the clouds. As it became darker, we at least had knowledge of the squall's whereabouts. The wind direction changed as the squall gathered in the air around it, and we were slowly sucked towards it. The danger we faced was not knowing the direction of the wind when it hit. As we got closer, it became evident that it'd be fierce. We prepared the best we could. Hatches were battened down, the galley tidied more, and the freshly prepared dinner stowed away.

In the cockpit, all was ready. I held the tail of the mainsail sheet, ready to ease it out if the wind filled it and tried to knock Franda II down. Kap held the headsail sheet, ready to ease it out if there was too much wind in it or let it off entirely if the wind hit from the other side. Stu held the slack headsail sheet, ready to pull in if the headsail was backed, and Mike stood by with the winch handle to winch in whichever sheet needed it. Dad was at the helm, autopilot off and ready for anything. Mum perched, prepared to help where needed. We quivered with readiness. All waiting and watching. The deck lights were on, waiting to show us what would be. Would it hit us like a train or slowly build in strength.

We did not have long to wait.

With a shriek, the wind hit hard, fortunately from the same side but further aft. As the sails filled, Franda II buried her deck in the sea. Dad gently rounded Franda II's nose up towards the wind a little to ease the wind catching in the sails. Kap and I carefully eased our sheets, spilling just a tiny amount of air. We did not want the sails to flog and flap as it put more strain on the sails and rigging. Franda II gathered speed and flew through the rain. Exhilarating and a touch terrifying. The large squall cocooned us for several hours before moving on. We relaxed a little as time passed, and conversations started; the worst was over. However, we did not wholly relax, and all stayed in the cockpit. The night slowly settled down, and the crew wound down. It was far too late for the dinner that had been cooked, so I made Stu a cup of tea as he would now "stand" watch for the next 3 hours. The rest of us wearily went below to our bunks.

Day 12 dawned no different from the previous 11. Porridge cooked on the primus in the cockpit. Custard and canned fruit for lunch. A fresh loaf of bread cooked on the primus. Mike made toast on the primus for afternoon tea, finishing the old loaf, as we had run out of cake. So Kap and I rectified that while cooking a roast veal dinner with spuds, pumpkin and onion by cooking an apple meringue pie, a coconut sponge, a devil's food cake, a coffee cake, and a lemon meringue pie. So the family should be set for afternoon tea for a few days!

The evening's star site had put us at 5°08'N and 59°00'E, only halfway to Socotra and about 600NM off the Somalia coast, when Dad informed the cooks that we were down to 12 meals of meat in the freezer. Unfortunately, the fishing was not very good, only 3 sharks. Hence, the meat was consumed more quickly than anticipated.

That evening while we girls were out on the poop deck relieving ourselves, the sky lit up! A star was burning up just off the port quarter. We looked up and realised it was not falling. Suddenly, it dawned on us not a star but a flare. We excitedly unclipped our safety harnesses and made for the cockpit, where Stu poked his head out and asked if we had seen the flare. Could it be pirates? It was not a red distress flare, so we figured no one was seeking help. The flare was for visibility but too far from Franda II for her to have been the target (hopefully). The 3 youngest ones discussed the possibilities. Then, Stu left the girls on watch, and he went below to discuss with the Captain. It was decided that 2 persons would "stand" watch for that night. They could keep each other wide awake and have a backup if needed. As another precaution, the shotgun also took up residence in the cockpit, loaded and ready. It was a massive relief when the sun rose on an empty horizon. Consequently, Franda II was safely alone.

Many breakfasts were cooked on the primus in the cockpit to save on gas. The days started slow, with 2 cups of tea in bed made by whoever was up first. Followed by a big breakfast around 0900 hrs consisting of porridge and leftovers from the night before. Then a coleslaw for lunch with day-old bread. (Day-old bread did not get devoured as quickly as fresh warm bread, so Franda II tended to make their fresh loaf after lunch ). Finishing in the evening with some sort of meat dish for dinner. Liver stew, curried sausages, roast veal, chops, chicken or frozen fish, usually accompanied by potato and pumpkin but occasionally served with rice or pasta. Dad was not a "Shanghai ballast" type of man, so rice and pasta were only occasionally served.

Of necessity, we slowly closed with the Somali coast. Two main islands exist between Socotra and the Horn of Africa (Somalia), and both belong to Yemen. We planned to go between Socotra and these islands, keeping further from the Somali coast.

On day 18, eight ships were sighted during the night, and they continued passing all day. Franda II was crossing another shipping lane. The ships came up the coast from Madagascar, turning West to go around Socotra or had come around Socotra and headed in (East) and down (South) towards the African coast. Franda II was crossing their path as she was headed inside the island of Socotra. Finally, we saw land. Our first in 18 days. The Horn of Africa at last. Still, 500 NM to go. But soon, we would turn West into the Gulf of Aden and Djibouti, sitting at the Western end.

Slow sailing with a light wind astern, but we were still closing in on Djibouti. Mum was all keen for a night's arrival into Djibouti port. The chart showed a straightforward entrance, and there was to be a full moon. All was going to plan until the earth's shadow covered the full moon! Mum had not checked the almanac for the chance of an eclipse. However, we still deemed it safe to continue into port even though the engine still tended to overheat and be unreliable. It was a beautiful still night, with amazing stars. Although the lead lights were hard to find amongst the city lights' backdrop, we arrived safely at the anchorage.

The 1538 NM (2844 km) voyage from Seychelles to Djibouti had taken Franda II and her crew 23 days. Now, they were again in Africa. Next, Bab al-Mandab Straight and into the Red Sea.