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16
March, Straits of Bab el Mandeb ("Gates of
Sorrow")
Warning: the following
account is rated S (for scary). This material is
appropriate for readers interested in terror and
drama on the high seas. Those who worry about us
being on this trip, e.g. our parents, may not
want to know about this night. Click
Here to
avoid the dribble and get to the good stuff.
 |
The red line traces
our route from Al Mukallah, Yemen,
through the Straits of Bab el Mandeb, our
quick stop in the anchorage near Assab,
beating towards Massawa (where we then
stopped for 10 days), and then on towards
Sudan. |
Aaron - Smooth
sailing all day with the wind behind us and
increasing increasing as the gulf narrowed into a
funnel. We passed Aden at midday and were
impressed to see the towering old white fortress
to the northeast of the port, which is situated
atop cliffs several hundred feet above the
crashing waves. Aden, or Djibouti across the way,
is the traditional stopping point for yachts
transiting Red Sea. We will, however, push on to
Assab, Eritrea (which used to be part of
Ethiopia) as conditions look good to pass through
the Straits of Bab el Mandeb (or Gates of Sorrow)
given the southeasterly winds.
Smooth Sailing East of
the Straits

However, reports from Quest,
which went through a couple of days ago, and La
Scala who went through last night, indicate that
as one approaches the Straits, the wind builds
strongly and to expect a further ten knot
increase in the wind speed once into the Red Sea.
La Scala apparently had 35 to 40 knots and made
it all the way through and to Assab at an average
boat speed of 10 knots with just a
"handkerchief" portion of their
headsail rolled out. They felt extremely lucky
that Lee on Quest had warned them of the
big wind increase as they were initially
approaching the Strait with full main and poled
out genoa.
Thank God, Quest, and
La Scala that we got the word as well or
the Straits of Bab El Mandeb could truly have
been our Gates of Sorrow.... It all happened
pretty fast, but this is the way I remember our
memorable transit into the Red Sea:
It
all started deceivingly easy. Armed
expecting a lot of positive current and winds, we
had triple reefed the main before dark and rolled
in the genoa most of the way and still made a
steady 7-8 knots towards the strait in the
evening pushed along by 25 knot winds through the
early evening. We were ready for the winds and
ready for traffic and at 1900, we easily slipped
past Mayyun Island off the coast of Yemen and
through the Straits into the Red Sea at an
average speed of 9 knots!! Easy. Confidence built
even as the wind started to gust to 30. No
worries. We just used the extra steam and current
to boost our speed to 10 knots and we quickly
reached through the shipping lanes (we only saw
one ship) and then pointed the nose back downwind
towards Assab. Easy. Now, although the winds were
still a steady 30 to 35 knots, the seas were
abating as we got into the more open waters of
the Red Sea and as we were going dead downwind
the apparent wind was only 20 to 25 knots on
average - not too scary really considering we
already had a triple reefed main and no headsail
at that point.
We thought we were through the
worst of it and relaxed. Colleen and Laura went
to bed at midnight and Kerry and I came
"officially" on watch. As I had pretty
much been up all day anyway, and as I wanted to
be awake when we came into Assab in the morning,
I decided to take a few hours rest as things
seemed pretty easy - sail straight downwind and
"try to keep the blue bits on the chart off
to port".
Kerry promised to vigilantly
plot our course to make sure we were on a safe
heading. And she did. However, we were moving so
fast, that even plotting every fifteen minutes or
so things changed very quickly and we soon found
ourselves over the "light blue" area on
the chart which indicated 20 meters or less.
Kerry woke me, but I was kind of hazy and just
told her to steer a few degrees to starboard as I
knew that along the edge of this bank, it was
plenty deep and even at the shallowest depth of
4-5 meters we would be ok. Kerry tried to do
this, but the wind, waves, and current kept
pushing us in - at an alarming rate - and when
she woke me again, I could detect more a bit of
serious concern in her voice. Probably just being
cautious. We can't be that far in already. I was
really tired and in a pretty deep sleep - I had
already mentally relaxed and and let down my
guard as I felt we were through the dangerous bit
so I was again pretty hazy. "Well", I
asked groggily, "what's the depth?"
"10 meters" "WHAT!!" Half
conscious but aided by a sharp (probably too
much) burst of adrenaline to my brain, I jumped
off the settee and bounded out the companionway
in just boxer shorts and a t-shirt. The depth
sounder read 8 meters. The waves were big and
breaking and the wind was gusting to 40 knots. I
grabbed the wheel, flipped off the autopilot, and
brought her further downwind, away from the shore
- almost sailing by the lee - I can't see because
my contacts are dry as a result of my quick
awakening - WHAM - CRACK -
BANG - "SHIITTTTTTT!!!!!"
I screamed (apparently like a
tortured animal). I've gybed her!! The boom was
held out with a preventor and I can see the sail
filled above my head as the boat laid over in
slow motion exposing the beam to the breaking
seas. My only hope is to steer back down quickly
and pray that the boat had enough forward
momentum to swing back to the other gybe.
Otherwise, I'll have to somehow cut the preventor
while we are being swamped and hope that when the
boom flies across it does not smash someone,
something, or itself. Luckily, within what was
probably 5 seconds, the boom snapped back
WHAK and we were again on
port tack. I guess we still had enough forward
momentum or perhaps the wind shift that gybed us
shifted back.
 Not us, but we
felt like it could have been!
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The main looks bad.
Something's wrong. I probably trashed it.
We have averted immediate disaster, but
are getting pushed more and more into the
shallows of Scilla Shoals. There are some
2-4 meter spots in here. We only draw two meters, but with these large and steep
seas, |
2 meter spots might be 0 meter
spots in between waves.... The seas are also
likely to break more and more as we get
shallower..... and they are getting bigger and
the wind is now a steady 40-45 knots..... I'm
scared, but we still have plenty of water (room
before we hit shore) to fight with and the boat
is handling the chaos marvelously - it barely
seems to notice.
By now, Laura, Kerry, and
Colleen are poking their heads out of the cabin
asking "what happened?" "We've got
to tack out of here" I yell. I think all
three of them came on deck and luckily, they all
had their harnesses on. I did not get mine in the
rush and can't let go of the wheel long enough to
get one on. We are getting pounded by waved and I
am completely drenched. I flipped on the engine -
WHROOM - started like the charming lady she is. I
brought the boat up into the wind and Laura
started to winch in the main. Thank God we did
not have to deal with a headsail. Finally, we got
the main in on the centerline, and I brought her
around - the boom is sticking - what the hell -
"let off the running backstay" yelled
Colleen. Good eye. We have not used them for so
long given generally light to moderate conditions
I forgot it was rigged.
Around on to starboard tack.
WHAM - WHOOSH water water everywhere. A huge wave
crashed down on us before we got speed up,
knocking us flat in the water. Kerry says she saw
the port lower spreader heading for the water
before she shut her eyes to keep out the deluge
of salt water. The cockpit looks like a hellish
jaccuzzi. I am still not wearing a harness - this
is very dangerous but I feel that if I let go of
the wheel, we will be knocked down again. We
focus on getting the boat moving - which we do.
The boom gallows lies hanging and splintered
where it was smashed by the wave or something
during the knockdown. On this tack, we continue
to get hit by big waves which come over the
entire boat, but start to make positive progress
out of the shallow area. However, we have moved
more northward where even on the edge of the bank
it gets as shallow as 5 meters. The waves are
incredibly steep and choppy. The wind is now
registering 45 to 50. Yikes! But we made it.
Back out in deeper water the
waves lost their pitch and we were able to bear
off a bit as we escaped the shallows. I got my
harness and foul weather gear on, and when
everyone was reasonably collected, we headed up
into the wind and dropped the main. Kerry went to
the mast and tussled with the sail, which took
all of her body weight to pull down in the gusts.
Kerry and Laura then both lashed the sail to the
boom. Laura had lashed the splintered boom
gallows into a serviceable position and we
finally had the sail and boom lashed down and out
of harms way. Colleen stayed vigilantly at the
chart table steadily plotting our position and
watching the depth.
It was still a tough slog to
Assab. Motoring slowly under bare poles, we were
making about 6 knots. I thought We might get
better stability and speed with the staysail up
and sent Kerry to the bow to untie it. WHAM - a
huge wave hit us and completely covered her and
the bow from view. She emerged ok and she and
Laura got the sail up. Well sorry its really too
windy - take it down. Back to the bow for Kerry
and WHOOSH - whoops, sorry, shipped another
greeny.... I was watching her both times rather
than keeping an eye on my course and the waves.
Anyway, by 0500
"tomorrow" we were finally in the lee
of the mass of islands off Assab and the seas
flattened out. The winds also dropped to a more
tenable 30 to 35 knots. We made our way under the
close plotting supervision of Colleen into the
flat (i.e. no waves - still a lot of wind)
anchorage that Quest and La Scala were resting
in. Well we made it. The boom gallows was the
only real casualty. The mainsail is fine - just a
Harken Battcar (thingy that slides up and down
the mast and attaching to the sail) busted (we
have spare parts and ball bearings). The forward
head door is also stove in as a result of a
flying emergency oxygen kit. But otherwise, we
are ok and we finally got our thrill! Thanks
Laura!
Laura -- This
is a night of terror that deserves to be told
from several perspectives, although I will try to
keep it brief. First of all, it is true that
earlier in the day I had said I was tired of
playing cards and reading while coasting downwind
and was feeling ready for more of a sailing
challenge. And it is also true that when Colleen
and I got off watch, when the wind was still
blowing a mere 30-35, and she asked me if I was
disappointed that going through the Straits
hadn't been more exciting, I said "A
bit." BUT, never in a million years would I
have ASKED for the rest of the night. We have all
chalked it up as the scariest sailing experience
ever, that's for sure. Kerry has ranked it as the
number one scariest experience of her life. I put
it a close second with the time a wheel fell off
the plane I was flying alone as an inexperienced
student pilot and had to do an emergency landing.
All I know is that when I went
to sleep, it was windy and wavy, but all was
well. We were across the dreaded shipping lane
and would be in Assab before my 9 a.m. watch.
But, I couldn't sleep much and lay there for an
hour instead. Then I heard this shriek, unlike
anything I had heard from a human before and
certainly unlike anything I had ever heard from
Aaron, followed by a huge, violent, crash. When I
climbed up through the main hatch mostly dressed,
the world was crazy. The seas were massive and
seemed to be knocking us everywhere. The wind was
just howling. Aaron looked like a wild man at the
wheel. I didn't know until later that we had
gybed. All I knew was that we seemed to be in
some pretty serious shape and when I glanced at
the depth meter, which read 5 meters, I had this
hollow feeling in my stomach that this was it, we
were ending the trip in the Red Sea. But, it's
funny how one doesn't panic when there really
isn't the time. We had to get busy getting the
boat under control. Everything was a struggle and
we were soon absolutely soaked with salt water as
the waves crashed over us. I stopped looking
outside the boat because it was just too scary.
When the knockdown came, I was fortunately
hanging onto the hatch cover and sort of fell
back under the dodger in time to see solid water
come rushing over the rails and fill the cockpit.
True, Redwings righted
herself fairly quickly. The rest of the evening
was a chaos of hanging on as waves came over the
boat while we wrestled with sails and sail ties
and ropes and the boom gallows. "HOLD
ON!" were the most frequently spoken, or
screamed, words of the evening.
In addition to the battcar
getting ripped off the mast and the broken boom
gallows, we also broke a baton, and lost a life
ring and some buckets overboard. The remaining
buckets and cat box were literally smashed and
must be replaced. Down below, most everything was
secure, except a suitcase-sized oxygen unit in
the forward cabin to be used in case someone gets
the bends while diving. That fell off it's shelf
and smashed through the bathroom door.
Aaron - I
think it's worth mentioning that we were not the
only poor suckers to get pounded. At least two
boats we know of shredded their mainsails and
another snapped her boom in two. All three
accidents were a result of an accidental gybe in
40+ knots of wind. Lesson: when its blowing +30
knots and you are traveling downwind, there is no
reason to have any main up at all.
Check out our Photo Gallery for
this day.
17 March, Assab,
Eritrea
Laura - As
the sun came up, we motored, or limped into
Assab. I was steering and wearing sun glasses,
although it was barely light, because salty spray
crashed over the boat and salt dripped off the
boom into my eyes, down my cheeks, down my neck
and soaked my shirt under my foul weather gear.
But, Assab and the masts of the few other yachts
in the anchorage were in sight. I felt like I had
been beaten up by the night before and the boat
looked a mess. The wind was still honkin' at 35
or so. We pulled into the windy, but quiet
anchorage and suddenly, just from relief I guess,
we got goofy and started taking pictures of one
another. I can't wait to see the photo of Colleen
in her nightie and safety harness after the crazy
night in Bab El Mandeb.
We really just slept and hung
out most of the day as we were quite exhausted.
Colleen got up at around 1 p.m. and broke out the
Red Sea Pilot and began reading weather
information and having a bit of Post Traumatic
Stress Syndrome over the night before. She hardly
cracked a smile when I put on her apron with the
four-leafed clovers all over it, brought out our
one remaining Singha beer and did a jig in the
main cabin to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. Well,
so okay, it wasn't the parade in Boston...
I think we got up to eat, but
all went back to bed by 8 p.m. or something.
18 March, Assab,
Eritrea
Laura - We
pretty much lazed the morning away sleeping and
reading. I used some of our beautiful brown
bananas to make banana bread and was pretty happy
with the results, especially since I didn't have
a recipe. In the afternoon, we did further boom
gallows repairs, replaced the battcar on the
mast, made some water and prepared to leave in
the morning. La Scala, anchored next to us,
bagged out on our tentative dinner plans because
they were too hung over from the night before.
So, Hearts it was. (I had a good night.)
We haven't bothered to go
ashore since it is about a mile away and none of
us wants to blow up, let alone drive, the dinghy
in this ferocious wind.
19 March, Assab,
Eritrea en route for Massawa, Eritrea
Laura - We
left the anchorage bound for Massawa at about 7
a.m. in a dead calm that seemed almost eerie
after the racket of the wind for two days. Before
getting to far, we changed genoas, packing away
the biggest headsail, perhaps for the remainder
of this leg of the journey.
We expected this 240 mile (as
the seagull flies) trip to take a bit less than 2
days. Soon, the wind filled in again, but this
time from the northwest. It soon became the wind
for which the Red Sea is famous -- 20 knots
northwest making steep seas of 6-10 feet. As we
were trying to sail northwest and had a good
number of coastal islands to deal with, our
progress was slow. We spent the day sharply
healed, bouncing up and down, tacking back and
forth, and basically slogging it out. Toward the
end of the day we discovered that the plate on
which the high pressure pump for the water maker
is mounted had cracked and can't be used until we
get it welded back in place. So, no showers for
the trip. Then, we started the engine and it
stopped. Turned out there was salt water in the
starboard fuel tank, meaning that about half our
fuel supply was contaminated. It took some time
to figure that one out, but we think what
happened is that after I dumped the jerry cans of
diesel into the tank in Al Mukallah, I didn't put
the cap back on tightly enough. Apparently, you
are supposed to put a screw driver in it and tap
the end with a hammer to really crank it shut. I
didn't know this. The cap also is minus a rubber
seal it is supposed to have. So, probably when we
took on tons of water going through the Straits,
it entered the fuel tank through the cap, which
is flush on the deck. I felt pretty badly about
it, but it was too late.
Despite the newfound problems
and the frustratingly slow progress made against
the wind, I actually rather enjoyed the day. The
air was cool and sunny. We all had on our foul
weather gear as we got doused regularly by waves.
The water had that flat grey look that the North
Atlantic gets and just as the feeling that I was
sailing off Cape Cod instead of in the Red Sea
came over me, Aaron said that looking at all of
us in our yellow suits made him feel like he was
in Maine. Then Kerry said she had felt all day
that she could be off Long Island. None of us
could be further from home, but somehow the world
was so familiar for a minute.
20 March, mid-day
position: 14,12 N 41,36 E / 24 hr run 70 nm
Aaron - Slow
slogging...... winds of 15-20 knots have, until
the Red Sea, represented easy and comfortable
sailing. But now they are coming right from where
we want to go and with negative current thrown
in, progress is very slow. We are tacking through
about 120 degrees when under sail alone (due to
current, waves, and the fact that we are not able
to push the boat as though we were racing) and
can just barely tack through 90 degrees when
motor sailing. Unfortunately, as we only have
about 20-24 hours of fuel in reserve, we can't
use the engine much which would help us improve
our progress. Not much else to say. We'll get
there eventually.
21 March, mid-day
position: 15,08 N 40,36 E / 24 hr run 80 nm
Aaron - Looks
like we'll make it. 70-80 miles a day isn't so
bad I suppose. Most of the other boats we were
running with are still sitting in Assab waiting
it out. Sounds like Assab is pretty boring. We're
getting the hang of the weather pattern here. The
wind comes out of the Northeast during the day
time with the prevailing Northwesterly sucked in
a bit (and accelerated) by the heat of the
African continent on the Eastern shore, and then
it eases a bit and shifts back to the Northwest
in the evenings. So its made sense to head in
towards the shore during daylight hours, and then
tack back out for the evenings which also means
less risk of running into reefs. Another plus is
that we are getting better economy out our our
fuel supply than I initially conservatively
estimated and we are able to motor sail a bit
more which helped us get inside the
semi-protected outer Southern Massawa Channel.
The waves then dropped further improving our
motoring and sailing efficiency and significantly
improving the morale of the crew. Hot foccacia
gave us all a further boost and for the first
time in 48 hours, it was giddiness all around.
As we made further progress up
the narrowing channel, it became apparent that
none of the coastal navigation lights are in
service. No moon either and the radar is not
working (blown magnetron I think). Lets hope the
charts are accurate (there are reports of some
islands and shoals being in positions 1-2 miles
different than indicated on the charts in this
area) and the GPS does not pack in!
We passed within a mile of
several islands and saw nothing...... At
midnight, the lights of Massawa are on the
horizon 20 miles away. With just the main, we
slowly proceed at 3-4 knots for a planned
daylight landfall - hip hip hooray!
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Copyright
©1998 All Rights Reserved by Aaron Henderson,
Colleen Duggan, Laura Longsworth and Kerry
Dinneen
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