..............eight months later and we were finalising plans for our next trip. We'd been out for an early morning sail in Durban Bay and had spent the afternoon tinkering about on the yacht. We were hot and thirsty so we decided to pop into the Yacht Club for a cold drink on our way back to the car park. We joined the "Admiral" who was sitting in his usual spot and told him of our plans to sail up to Kenya.

Ern still sailed with us but we needed another crew member to ease the burden of night watches. We'd interviewed numerous hopefuls and had short listed two, a male and a female. The "Admiral" suggested that we take the girl along, as she'd probably be better company for Ern.

I was delighted that we'd settled on Liz as it meant that galley fatigue wasn't going to be a problem. She loved cooking but hated washing the dishes. Wild horses couldn't drag me anywhere near a stove but I had no problem with the cleaning up.

Bill cautioned us to get all crew members to sign an indemnity to the effect that should they disembark at any foreign port of call for ANY reason whatsoever, they would assume responsibility for their own repatriation costs back to South Africa. He warned Bob to ensure that he held enough of their money in trust to cover a plane ticket home from the furthest point. We were providing them with everything they'd need on board and their only expense would be their spending money ashore. Once again the Admiral had given us sage advice.

Foreign exchange allowance was a problem in South Africa at the time as we were only permitted $3000 US per person per annum. From past experience we'd learnt that fresh meat and certain groceries were not easily obtainable in countries to the North so we stocked the yacht to the hilt with food, taking the crew along on our shopping expeditions to enable them to select their preferences.

Next we had the fridge/freezer upgraded to 220 volts and packed it to capacity with both fresh and cooked meat. The conversion had set us back in excess of $1000 US but we felt it was money well spent.


We left Durban at 09h50 on 6 April 1995 and reached Maputo Bay three days later. There was a sudden change in the weather and the wind picked up to a 50 knot South Wester. This was a complete surprise as there'd been no forewarning on the barometer or from the weather reports. We realised it was too late to seek shelter in Maputo as we were unable to enter the bay under cover of darkness. We couldn't rely on the bouys as they were unlit and to top it all, there are strong cross currents in the bay. We decided to head about 8 miles off shore and hove-to until morning.

By next morning the swells were up to seven meters. A "curler" broke against the side of the yacht with such force that all the books in the book shelves dislodged and flew across the saloon, landing on Ern who was asleep on the pilot bunk. A sheet of water washed across the decks and poured in through the air scoops. Every single bunk on the boat has an air scoop above it and every single bunk was saturated! We drifted northwards at about 3kts per hour and found ourselves on a collision course with the fishing vessel "Dio Valente" which was anchored with a 300m rode. We called them on VHF and the captain, Zigi Bauer told us that he wasn't moving whilst his anchor held, so we gained sea space by motoring around his bow. We remained in radio contact with him for days and struck up a lasting friendship.

After 52 hours the wind finally abated but by this time we'd been blown over 100 miles past Maputo. We were utterly exhausted. None of us had had any sleep because it had been impossible to lie down on the saturated beds and bunks. Even the towels that we'd folded thickly to sit upon were soaked, so we decided to press on to Linga Linga.

That night during Bob's watch, the compass globe blew. Fortunately we all carried pocket flashlights so Bob was able to hold his bearing by periodically shining his torch over the binnacle. When Ern relieved him for the next watch Bob explained what had happened and showed him how to handle the situation until he could replace the globe in daylight.

The following morning Ern proudly announced that he'd swung the compass as he'd noticed that it was out when compared to the bearing on the GPS. Bob almost had a stroke as there is nowhere between Durban and Singapore where a compass can be swung professionally. On further investigation Bob discovered that by using Prestik, Ern had affixed his metal pocket torch to the centre of the compass dome to give himself continuous light. So now we knew exactly why the compass was "out"!

Bob in his customary quiet manner explained the ramifications to Ern who withdrew into a resentful sulk. It was such a shame as the atmosphere on board was never the same after that. He'd grown close to us and was like one of our own children. He'd lived in our home, sailed with us and in fact he was always with us and it was obvious that he hero worshipped Bob.

We'd barely dropped anchor at Linga Linga when we were hailed from the beach with a message from Mike inviting us to join them for dinner that evening. He served a delicious grunter and we met his two new recruits, David and Chad. As usual Bob's evening was spent at the chessboard with Mike while I caught up on news with Mel.

Linga-Linga is an extraordinary area and a veritable feast of nature so the following morning we had a round table conference and decided to extend our stay to allow ourselves time to explore the area properly. There are flocks of flamingos and magnificent stretches of palm-lined beaches. The bay is filled with Dolphins which regularly circled the yacht in water about ten metres deep. Unfazed by our presence they played and caressed and squeaked to each other in their strange language and smiled their beautiful happy smiles. This is also the migration area for a species of birds from the Tundra - a fact which the Ornothological Society took years to discover.

Next morning we by-passed Mike's cottage when we went out exploring. There he was sitting in the sun on the patio, locked in a game of chess - against himself! It must have been a tough one as he never even noticed us! The devil took over and a tune popped into my mind; "Mad Dogs of Englishmen Go Out In The Midday Sun". I rephrased it thus:-

"Mad Mike the Englishman plays chess in the midday sun
Sitting on his patio ignoring everyone
Mad Mike the Englishman keeps building his little huts
Mad Mike the Englishman is more than a trifle nuts."

We took the long walk over to Pansy Bay, a magnificent swimming beach literally covered with millions of pansy shells (or sand dollars as some call them). We each collected a few then waded into the water where we could feel the little animals wriggling between our toes. Bob ensured that we gave Mike's garden a wide berth on our return to the yacht as he was in no mood for yet another game of chess.

That weekend a TV crew arrived from Johannesburg and it was a refreshing change to have new faces and stimulating conversation around the campfire in the evenings. They'd been lured there by Mike under the pretext of an opportunity to film the Dugongs (known as Manatees in other parts of the world). They are shy creatures and in fact we never laid eyes on any in all the time we spent there. Yet Mike feigned surprise when the TV crew reported that they hadn't seen any.

It soon became apparent, to us anyway, that his real reason for bringing them there was to trap them into doing a free "puff" on the lodge. Months later when we flew home from Dar Es Salaam on a short business trip, I walked into our lounge and caught the last few minutes of their documentary. And there was "SEEROSE" lying at anchor near the beach, with the cameras focused on her throughout the fade out.

Mike threw a party for the TV crew and we, along with everyone else in the entire area, were invited. The party grew and grew as more and more guests arrived ..... and continued to arrive. We couldn't imagine where on earth everyone came from but most were locals. It was the only time we ever saw Mike's companion Pamiera remain awake throughout the entire evening. She was the "belle of the ball", dancing her feet off and doubling as the disc jockey.

The African beat blared from the speakers as the guests whirled and twirled and twisted and gyrated, all in their own peculiar dance-style. Every few seconds one would leap into the air - then another would leap - then the next would leap - until everyone had had a leap! Then the cycle would start all over again.

Their "leap" is quite different to the one done by the Watusi in Kenya who hold their bodies erect and keep their arms straight and flattened to their sides. These guys looked as though they were running a flat race, and simultaneously doing the "twist", ..... all in midair! I dubbed it "The Linga-Linga Leap".

Mel decided to give it a try. He leapt into the air did a quick running twist and as he came down he landed on his own foot. We shrieked with laughter! But the poor chap limped for days and subsequently lost his big toe nail! As usual Mike, totally oblivious to it all, was locked in a game of chess. Much to Bob's relief he'd trapped one of the TV crew!

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