Sailing Magazine
pic by Richard Crockett
by Richard Crockett (aboard ‘Assegai’)
Today, 26 April, marks the 40th anniversary of the 1984 Vasco da Gama Race, when the fleet was devastated by big winds and massive seas.
For me, all these years later, I feel it’s time to share a reminder that the fateful 1984 race had two starts – one on 25 April at 16h00 for the cruising yachts, with the racing yachts starting the following day, 26 April, 18 hours later at 10h00.
Why does it matter? Simply because had everyone started on 25 April at 16h00, a good proportion of the fleet would have been that much closer to the finish, and may not have experienced the violence of the storm off the Wild Coast. But that’s conjecture of course.
It’s interesting that the sponsor’s message in the official Notice of Race said this:
“The Da Gama Race starts on a new tack this year with the introduction of a completely separate start for the slower, cruising class of yacht.
“It is hoped that by giving them a head start most will arrive in East London in time to enjoy the hospitality of that city. But, perhaps more importantly, it gives those skippers and crews new to offshore sailing an opportunity of spreading their wings and setting their sights a little further than may have been the case, and happy in the knowledge that other yachts are not too far away.
“Unlike many other coasts, there are no boltholes between Durban and East London and every skipper must be confident that he, his ship and crew are capable of withstanding what the Wild Coast may have in store.
“I would like to take this opportunity of wishing all competitors fair winds and smooth seas.”
Many will remember the race either as a competitor or loved one ashore waiting for news of each boat. For those competing, it was likely to have been their ultimate storm. For others a night of absolute terror, while some crew who have never gone to see again it was a life-changing experience. But what is true for everyone at sea that fateful night, is that it was a night that will be remembered forever.
This was probably the most destructive storm ever to have hit an ocean race in this country, with winds well in excess of 60 knots, and mountainous seas. In those days crews were pretty tough as there were lots of coastal races which gave them tons of experience – and as a result few boats required assistance to get home, despite being damaged.
As this race is constantly mentioned, even today as it struck a chord with people who had no affinity to the sea, the race or the crews competing, it is worth reminding oneself about that fateful night.
I will be sharing many feature articles from that dark time in 1984, plus new ones I have written specially for this 40 year anniversary.
At the forefront of my mind though, always, are memories of those who perished on ‘Rubicon’ under skipper Siggi Eicholz.
I will start with the report I wrote immediately after the race for Yachtsman RSA magazine. I have made a few very minor edits I feel are necessary. There are also additional comments from others.
The casualty report read as follows:
Missing – Rubicon and 5 Crew
Sunk – Spiffero
Sunk – Cape of Good Hope
Beached – Sensation
Dismasted – Roller Ball
Dismasted – Transformer
Dismasted – Fantasy
Dismasted – Reaction
Dismasted – Gunnadoo
Dismasted – Thekwini
The Vasco da Gama race from Durban to East London holds many fond memories for many of the country’s yachtsmen.
From humble beginnings with four competitors in 1977, this race has established itself as a major ocean race on our calendar, and a real challenge to both man and machine. At its very best some 40 yachts and well over 200 yachtsmen pit their skills against the meanest coastline the world can possibly offer.
The memories are fond because for many it is their first taste of true blue ocean racing at its toughest, but also because the yachtsmen and women of East London really put themselves out for all the competitors. Irrespective of what time of the day or night you finish, there is always someone to meet you on the jetty, and even better, there is a cold beer, and a meal of bacon and eggs waiting in the club.
The challenge is really what it is all about. It is not always the fastest yacht that wins, but the yacht that reads the prevailing conditions correctly. There are so many factors that need to be taken into account, and these are the reasons the Wilbur Ellis Vasco da Gama Race is such a great race.
The strong Mozambique current needs to be taken into account. The wind direction and possible strength are also important. Does one go inshore to pick up the land breeze at night, or go out to sea and look for the current? These are just some of the many variables. After eight races there is still no ‘right’ course, as both the inshore and offshore legs have won before.
In the light of the recent drama during this year’s race, everyone has asked the same question: ‘Why did you do the race?’
It is really quite easy to answer. I have been privileged enough to sail in every race so far (there are only two other people who have), and really enjoy the challenge this particular race has to offer. Yes, I often do wonder what I am doing out in the raging sea, wet and cold in the middle of the night, when my bed is at its most inviting.
But when you go to sea, you have to take the rough with the smooth, and this is just one of the small sacrifices one makes and accepts.
There are other aspects, too. This race really brings out the quality of the crew, and it is an incredible experience to be part of a team who all know what they are doing and who all knuckle down to keep the yacht going at optimum speed, even if it means sitting on the weather rail all night and pushing themselves to the limits of physical endurance.
The crew of ‘Assegai’ have sailed together now for a season and a half and have been through a lot together, and know each other’s capabilities. Prior to the race, we did our normal preparation of running rigging, hull and safety equipment checks. We all monitored the weather for several days prior to the race and all had our own feelings as to what we would like and what we could get.
Thanks to Chris Bonnet’s weather fax machine, we were able to get a better indication of what the weather was likely to do, and on the morning of the race, Bonnet told skipper Terry Clarence and myself that there were two low pressure systems moving up the coast, one weak, the other strong. He said that after discussions he had held with the meteorological office locally and in Pretoria, the second front could be quite severe, but that the meteorological people could not categorically state that this would be the case.
With this in mind, Clarence told the crew what could possibly be on the cards. This did not unduly worry any of us, as we had all taken a pounding at some stage or other aboard ‘Assegai’, and we all had the utmost faith in the yacht and its ability to withstand almost any condition.
Trying to get pole position at the start, we were forced over the line by ‘Helga’, herself also over, and thanks to the new CASA ruling that allows you to communicate with the committee boat regarding starting, we returned and started second last.
Being a downwind race we were not worried as it did not take too long before we overhauled the fleet – with the exception of ‘Sensation’.
With the easterly increasing, we were really steaming, and at the same time taking an easy course out into the current. There was only one yacht further to seaward of us, and that was ‘Gunnadoo’ with Andrew Lawrence, who always manages to take the smallest yacht in the fleet the furthest out to sea.
A blown out spinnaker was quickly replaced without much ado. It was only blown out because it was packed in the wrong turtle and we hoisted the 0,75oz spinnaker instead of the 1,5 oz!
This off-wind leg was really relaxing, and the crew were able to get in a good few hours’ rest before the expected westerly. As the wind increased, so did our boat speed. We managed 18,5 knots with the full main and spinnaker.
It was interesting having Peter Collins in ‘Reaction’, an RCOD, close by in these conditions. As the wind picked up so she would surf and pass us, but because the sea was so flat, ‘Assegai’ would not surf. When the wind dropped just a few knots, **Reaction would stop surfing and fall back into her rightful position behind us.
At 16h00 hours, we gybed inshore to close the coast as we were approximately 45 miles out. We could see the first of the westerly fronts ahead of us and eventually sailed into a totally calm patch with no wind at all. For about 10 minutes we had a westerly, and then back came the easterly at a nice steady strength which enabled us to hoist the spinnaker again. The second front was approaching, and this could be clearly seen in the fading light.
pic by Richard Crockett
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the westerly filled in – we and the rest of the fleet still had spinnakers up – all of which immediately backed. The bag was hauled down and two reefs set in the main. By this stage, the wind was really beginning to get violent. The skipper called for the number four, and while that was being prepared, he called for the storm jib as the wind strength just kept increasing. With only two reefs in the main, the mast and boat were gyrating rather badly, so the main was hauled down completely and lashed to the deck and we sailed along under storm jib alone, while assessing the situation.
The seas rose quickly, and the wind was blowing a good 60 knots. The highest wind speed we recorded was 55 knots before the instrument faded on us. It is accurate to say that at least another five to 10 knots could be added to that, but in those conditions the wind speed indicator is the last thing one worries about.
At this stage, we were under control, but anything could have happened, so, as a precaution, Clarence called for the storm tri-sail to be prepared, but not hoisted. This proved to be quite difficult, but fortunately was not required.
From then on we reached into the coast with only the storm jib set. By 00h30, the wind gave no hint of abating, and if anything, gave the impression that it would carry on forever. The noise was deafening. The wind really whistled through the rigging, and the noise of the sea was cacophonic.
Sailing the boat across the swells was not too difficult or dangerous, but the helmsman had to be alert all the time and ready to make any course adjustment in a hurry. After discussion, it was generally felt that it was safest for the boat and crew if we turned round and headed for home rather than plug away and try to make for East London.
For us, the race was over, but at the time it was the safest decision, much as we would have liked to carry on and attempt to repeat our win of the previous year.
We bore away with the storm jib up, and within seconds, realised that we were overpowered as ‘Assegai’ immediately picked up the most incredible wave and started surfing. I had not seen a bow wave as high as that (except in films of the round the world race) before, yet despite this, and the speed we appeared to be travelling, the helm was unbelievably light and responsive.
Under bare poles, the helmsman had to be careful how he steered, as some of the waves were so steep that the yacht could have pitch-poled. Without any sail up, the helm was heavy, but this did not stop ‘Assegai’ surfing under bare poles at some unbelievable speeds.
After daybreak, the wind began moderating, and slowly, we set more and more sail, starting off with the storm jib then the number four; the number three poled out with the number four, until we could hoist the main and sail home with full main and poled out number three.
We suffered no significant damage, except to the VHF radio which was flooded.
It was not until we tuned into the 13h30 news on the transistor radio that we heard about ‘Cape of Good Hope’ and ‘Sensation’.
An hour later, we were safely tied up on moorings, and that is when the great dry out began as everything was totally soaked.
A Passionate Plea
Over the years I have been given a lot of material about the 1984 race, and in fact many other Vasco races, to have accumulated a burgeoning archive of material from newspaper cuttings, original photos, reports, magazine features and even personal accounts.
I cherish each and every one of these, and have sufficient to write a book about the 50-plus years of the Vasco da Gama Race – something I will ultimately do.
I already have in excess of 15 000 individual Vasco Race files.
But as always, there are gaps that need filling in terms of full results, photos, reports, personal accounts, scrap books, newspaper cuttings and basically “anything Vasco” that individuals, Clubs and organising authorities have on the race.
So I am making a plea to anyone, and everyone, who has any material on this tough ocean race to consider lending me their personal records of the race for digitising. My promise is that they will be returned in good order – and with digitised files of their material too.
From the files I have so far, I have been able to compile a results database, starting with the earliest races when the race was from Maputo to Durban.
I have a complete database of all the trophy winners in the Vasco da Gama Race.
Every single written word, every single photo, and every single memory of the Vasco race is important to me.
Should you have any material you would lend me, please contact me via email at: editor@sailing.co.za
