Log and Journal

March 28, 2007
16.02.33 N, 39.27.03 E
The Red Sea

Taking Refuge at Sheikh El Abu Island
by Lois Joy


            At 0645, there is still no sunrise. The wind continues to blow from the north, as it has all last night, all day yesterday, and all the night before that. The cloud cover is 100%, gray and ominous. Three other yachts are now taking refuge in this anchorage, along with Pacific Bliss: Aldeberan, Li, and Bolero.

            This is not the idea of hiding out from the northerlies in the beautiful Red Sea marsas, swimming and snorkeling, that we had in mind. First, it is too dangerous to swim, the waves are fast and furious, racing in the north wind, ranging from 15-25 knots for two days now. And the protection afforded here only decreases wave height. Our bows are bouncing up and down, tugging at the anchor buried firmly (we hope) in sand. The "anchorage" is an open area between two islands with extending reefs. This is our first stop after the port of Massawa, Eritrea and was meant to be just an overnight stop with Li and Aldeberan to celebrate Patrick's birthday. But here we are, waiting for the wind to change or decrease, which we hope will be tomorrow.

            The party on board Aldeberan was fabulous, great company, great conversation, and a wonderful spread lovingly prepared by Olivia: pizza, bacon/mushroom roll-ups, and a birthday cake filled with fruit and topped with whipped cream. We passed on the pate given to me by Makoko for my birthday, back in Thailand in January. "We have so much here to eat," Claudie told me then, "save it for a special occasion in the Red Sea; you'll really enjoy it then." This was a special occasion, and we did enjoy it, Claudie.

            The three yachts planned to pull anchor yesterday morning. Li and Aldeberan sailed off at 7 AM; we on Pacific Bliss slept in, planning to make two overnights direct to Suakin, Sudan. But when we turned on our instruments, we realized that if we decided to sail at all, we would probably make it only to the anchorage as well. So we rushed to depart also and to catch up to the other yachts. But they had already turned back. "Miserable out there," Patrick said. "We're heading back to the anchorage." Despite a positive weather forecast, the feared northerlies had already begun.

            The wind howled so much yesterday that no-one even bothered to put their dinghies down. Chris washed down the deck outside and I swept inside, managing to get rid of the top layer of the red sand and black port dirt covering Pacific Bliss. She has never been so dirty, poor thing. During the passage, whenever I would touch the rails or the lifelines, my hands would turn red-brown. Yuk! All we can do is try to keep the dirt load down, by liberal use of the salt-water pump. Within hours, the wind blows new sand into each crevice and crack.

        I dream about a clean marina in Egypt. Perhaps Abu Tig? Hope springs eternal...