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| Oryx anchored off Quequen. |
We left Arroyo Ballena straight after breakfast, barely
pausing to wish the crew of Mollymawk goodbye. We had over indulged with food
and wine at Guillermo’s the previous evening, but the wind was favourable and
we were keen to make the most of the receding tide. As usual I left Buenos
Aires with a heavy heart. By this time you will have come to realise that, much
as I love to travel, I am a lingerer, too. Buenos Aires has surpassed more
interesting and more beautiful cities and is currently the city I love the most
in all the world, as Saint Expery might have said. Along with the suadade, I had
the faintest tingling of a sore throat. The sail was pleasant and it is
pleasing to leave by sea, as the withdrawal is so gradual, that the pain of
leaving is always replaced by the curiosity about the next place and the next
and so on.
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| This container ships motored past our bow, rocking our boat. |
Evening fell and on my watch I spent much of the time in the
cockpit. The modified wind vane self-steering was working perfectly, but I had
to dodge between the anchored ships awaiting entry into B.A. The sailing on the
Saturday was similarly pleasant, but as the day progressed the wind picked up
and my sore throat worsened. By nightfall I was feeling ill, but we still had
some distance to go. On my watch I examined the charts and saw that there were
breaking waves at the entrance leading to our next anchorage, where we would
await daylight and a rising tide. We arrived just before midnight and once
again I had to put full trust in Pete. The visibility was poor, my night vision
leaves a lot to be desired, it was raining and all around waves were breaking.
I followed Pete’s directions as best I could, but veered either side of the
course due to the swell and the conditions. We anchored at the chosen spot and
the darkness was only broken by the lighthouse of Cabo San Antonio and the
cresting waves.
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| The Cabo Antonio lighthouse by day. |
We had a nightcap followed by hot chocolate and gratefully
crawled into bed. In the morning light everything looked benign, although we
had dragged a little and were now on the edge of a sandbank. We waited for the
tide to turn and edged our way between the shoals and marshes to anchor in the
river off General Lavalle. The area is completely flat, but has a beauty of its
own as pampas meets marsh meets the sea. Migratory birds abound and enthralled
us by their numbers in the days to come.
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| Marshes near General Lavalle. |
General
Lavelle.
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| Fishing boats named after us? Pete is 'Sin Limite'! |
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| Pink Spoonbill. |
When we initially arrived in General Lavalle, Pete thought
it might have been where Donald Crowhurst had laid low in Argentina, but we
later learned that he had been several kilometres to the north at a place
called Rio Salado.
The town is named after Juan Gallo Lavalle who was born in
Buenos Aires in 1799. Amongst his claim to fame is the fact that he fought
against Artigas, the Uruguayan national hero in 1815. He had a colourful
military career and fought alongside the liberator Jose’ San Martin. He was
accidentally shot by fellow Unionists. He is buried in Recoleta. The town was
founded on the Rio del Ajo in 1861. The port was initially dredged to ship
grain. A railway link was built to connect General Lavalle to Dolores, once
again to facilitate shipping the grain grown in the area.
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| "Oryx" in General Lavalle. |
Today the river has silted up and it is only possible to
gain access on the tides. Once a year there is a regatta from San Isidro in
B.A. to General Lavalle. The town has an end of the line feel and is
beautifully kept and quiet. There is an interesting museum and a few simple
shops. It was a good place to lay up for a few days. My cold had worsened into
typical complications of a common cold and for more than a week Pete had to put
up with my raucous sounds. Unlike a friend I am not ‘ladylike’ with the
coughing and spluttering, but as always Pete was kind and caring, although he
escaped into the town on occasion.
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| Argentinean towns orientate you to time and place! |
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| All decked out. |
The authorities were very friendly and helpful on clearing
in; the formalities rounded off with a cup of coffee with ‘El Jeffe’. A front
was forecast with strong westerly winds and we wanted to be safely tucked away
near San Clemente del Tuyu, but we had to suffer a safety inspection. Once
again our Spanish let us down, but the young Prefectura officer was very
patient and amused when we hauled out a tea towel to show him the semaphore
flags and their codes. Thanks to Graham and Monica’s kind gift and a booklet
donated by Navenka and Deon, we passed, if not with flying colours. The delay
had cost us an hour or so, so we left sharply, motoring until we cleared the
channel so as not to miss the tide.
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| Young prefectura officer who did our safety inspection. |
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Pete as the ferryman.
|
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| Leaving Lavalle. |
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| Argentina's coastal fishing boats are all orange and the deep sea ones are bright red. |
We then sailed towards Cabo San Antonio expecting to have to
wait for the high tide before entering. We kept a close eye on the echo sounder
and managed to sneak over the sand spit and anchored off the yacht club at
Tapera de Lopez.
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| Yacht club Tapera del Lopez. |
San
Clemente del Tuyu.
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| These fishermen came by to ask if we were well and then led the way across the sandbank. |
Tapera de Lopez is on the outskirts of a small tourist town
called San Clemente Del Tuyu. The point on the southern side of the huge
Samborombom Bay is known as Punta Rasa and the whole area of wetlands is a
designated nature reserve. It serves as a flyway for migratory birds from as
far afield as Alaska and Canada.
 |
| Flamingoes photographs from both sides. |
Magellan’s expedition was the first of the Europeans to land
here in 1520. In 1580 Hernando Arias de Saavedra evangelised the Guaranies in
the area. Tuyu is a Guarani word for mud or clay. A significant battle was
fought against the Brazilians in 1820 – the Battle del Tuyu. Early Spanish
settlers abandoned their estancias leaving behind cattle and horses, which soon
became feral. The cattle and horses thrived on the pampas grass and gave rise
to the gaucho legacy when these neo hunter-gatherers competed with the
indigenous Indians for a foothold. After independence meat salting plants
sprang up all over the region and the area was initially developed to export
meat and hides. In the 1900’s grain took precedence and the area today has many
co-operatives farming grain amongst the huge estancias or cattle ranches.
 |
| Gray skies loom as front arrives. |
On the Saturday we arose early, hoping to beat the front by
going into San Clemente in the morning. There was a fishing competition on the
go at Tapera de Lopez and despite the inclement weather, there were many hardy
fisher folk competing. We breakfasted and while I was washing the dishes, Pete
happened to look up. We had dragged and were almost aground beside the concrete
steps where the people were fishing. We quickly averted disaster by using the
engine to motor away from the shore. Pete hauled up the anchor, whilst I headed
into the wind. The anchor broke out,
but it was obviously fouled on something, and when it eventually broke the
surface Pete saw that it was entangled in a mass of broken fishing lines! He
then spent several agonising minutes hacking them off with a large knife,
before we could re anchor safely. The wind continued to pick up and we deferred
our plans to go ashore.
We rode out the gale without dragging again and so felt safe
to leave Oryx to go ashore on the Monday.
We walked the several kilometres into
San Clemente del Tuyu to find the beach town windswept, sand strewn and devoid
of tourists.
We did find a beautiful beach and then wandered around the town,
lunching at a Spanish restaurant decorated with posters giving evidence of the
owner’s annual holiday to Spain. Dining out in Argentina is always a treat; not
only is the food excellent and the wine divine, but also very affordable.
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| Christmas at Easter! |
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| Beach at San Clemente del Tuyu. |
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| Sand swept after strong westerlies of the weekend. |
We hotfooted back to ‘Oryx’ and set sail just before high
water only to run aground on the same spit we had previously crossed
successfully. It wasn’t a hardship though; we simply waited for the tide and
sailed on, admiring the beautiful flamingos while we waited.
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| Aground surrounded by birds! |
We were initially heading for Viedma, where Pete hoped to
dry out so that we could clean the bottom and antifoul, but the weather was
conspiring to keep ‘Oryx’ covered in barnacles and so we sailed overnight to
Quequen.
Quequen.
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| Seals and birds off dolosse on Necochea side of entrance. |
We arrived at the entrance to Quequen around noon and as we
sailed into the harbour we were met by the sight on sea lions and seals
frolicking in the waves. Next we found lines and lines of fishermen fishing
amongst what we initially took for rocks – more sea lions!
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| Fishing amongst the sea lions. |
As we motored slowly
up the Rio Quequen we had a good view of the twin towns. Necochea, the second
biggest beach resort after Mar del Plata lies on the south bank and Quequen on
the north bank. The port of Quequen is very like East London and the Prefectura
building looks similar to the harbour master’s house in East London. Juan de
Garay landed in the area in 1582 and in 1748 Thomas Faulkner set up a Jesuit
mission in the area.
 |
| Club Nautico Necochea. |
We came to a bridge that was destroyed several years ago
when a boat broke free and collided with one of the pillars, taking the bridge
down with it. The wreck and the remains of the bridge are still clearly
evident.
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| All that remains of the bridge and the boat. |
Later we met the friendly Guillermo ,Commodore of the Vito Dumas Yacht
Club and he told us that when there is flooding upstream the current is
sometimes as much as 15 knots and the river recently swept the clubs jetty and
all the yachts on moorings out to sea. We anchored just beyond the moorings of
the club. The marinero came over in a small launch to welcome us. He remembered
Pete and ‘China Moon’ from the visit twelve years before.
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| Yacht Club Agrupacion Vito Dumas. |
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| Malvinas monument. |
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| Chilling out? |
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| Bridge to Quequen. |
Time had caught up with us and we found that we had to head
north to Mar del Plata to clear out of the country, rather than heading south
as planned to the Rio Negro.
 |
| Oryx approaches fallen bridge on departure. |
The sail to Mar del Plata was an overnight sail.
By nightfall the wind had dropped right down. A blanket of cloud blotted out
the stars and all that remained was the sounds of the sea slapping the hull as
‘Oryx’ chuckled along, slowly but gracefully. The lights of Miramar glowed like
Queen Victoria’s necklace does in Mumbai. Fortunately near sunrise the wind
picked up to a southerly force three and we sailed swiftly on.
As we neared Mar del Plata a fishing boat diverted to come
and have a closer look. We spent several moments taken mutual photographs as
they welcomed us to Mar del Plata.
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| Belvedere welcomes us to Mar del Plata. |
Mar
del Plata.
 |
| Entering Mar del Plata. |
We picked up a mooring just outside the entrance of the
Yacht Club Argentina. Pete had previously been alongside in ‘China Moon’ and of
course with ‘Pelican’, but this time we opted for the mooring. Mar del Plata is
the top beach destination in Argentina and between December and March the
inhabitants of the city more than doubles in size with the visitors
outnumbering the locals. Prices go up and accommodation becomes scarce.
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| Weekend activities of Yacht Club Argentina in Mar del Plata. |
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| Yacht Club Argentina MDP. |
.jpg) |
| Oryx by night. |
Mar del Plata is the first place I did a trans Atlantic
crossing from. When I met Pete in 2007, I was a seasoned sailor: - I had
floated about on a small boat called ‘Dee’ on Hartebeespoort Dam one Sunday.
There were so many people on board, that we never even hoisted the sails, I
then sailed from East London harbour to Nahoon Reef and back on board ‘Misky’
and my training seemed complete with a sunset champagne cruise on board the
‘Spirit of Victoria’ a Hout Bay 50 and sister ship to ‘Mollymawk’! I knew that
if my relationship with Pete was going to
float I should sail back to
South Africa rather than fly, so in March 2008, while Pete prepared ‘Pelican’
for the crossing, I sat tying 107 cones onto something called a ‘series drogue’
thinking
this is a serious drag, but when we had to deploy the drogue as
a sea anchor I quickly reviewed my thinking. The drogue we have was developed
and tested by a Mr. Jordan who then provided the information free on the
Internet. If it weren’t for Mr. Jordan, I probably would’ve kissed the shore at
Granger Bay and never set foot on another boat again! (And Pete’s calm
confidence and competence, of course!)
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| Sealion, anyone? |
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| View of Mar Del Plata from the water tower. |
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| Ornate water reservoir. |
Basically, for my non-sailing friends,
when the wind and waves get too much and you have to drop the sails, you deploy
this drogue from the stern. It is attached to the back of the boat and has a
small anchor to weigh it down. The cones then open and slow you down, keeping
the stern into the wind, until the weather moderates. It stops you from
broaching side ways to the waves or pitch poling.
 |
| Fishing fleet. |
As far as the history of Mar del Plata goes it was a late
developer. Jesuits settled in the area in 1747 and then the Portuguese
investors developed the port known then as el Puerto de Laguna de los
Padres. They built a pier and a saldado (meat salting works) in
1860, but sold out to Patricio Peralta Ramos who founded Mar del Plata in 1874.
He combined industry with a beach resort. Many upper class Porteno
(B.A.) families owned summerhouses in Barrio los Trencos. Mar del Plata is
known as the Pearl of the Atlantic.
We love the city and this time we were out of season so we
walked the city flat. Unfortunately the autumn in Argentina was quite severe
this year, so at night we fired up our ‘Pipsqueak’ stove and perhaps even
remembered last Christmas in Paysandu fondly! We stocked up and scrutinised the
various weather reports setting out on a Tuesday afternoon for southern Brazil.
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| Market square. |
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| Copter cat? |
Passage to Rio Grande de Sul.
The favourable southerly wind forecast was more easterly
and rather light and the passage was to be Pete’s slowest passage ever. The
days at sea flow seamlessly into one another. They are quiet and mostly
peaceful renditions of blue and white on green or grey on grey. There is the
occasional ship or fishing boats and there are usually birds about.
Somehow the differences get lost between the pages of la
Plante or Kingsolver, but each night is unique. We do three-hour watches at
night and so we live parallel lives, intersecting at meal times. Our routine is
different too. Pete does the last night watch, so he follows the dawn with
breakfast. We have a second cup of coffee after his rest, just before noon. We
have some fruit and water at about two and then have an early supper at four or
five. We snack on our watches at night.
 |
| Sunrise- on- sea. |
I usually do the first night watch, which starts around sunset. We do a full lookout every
ten to fifteen minutes, keeping an eye on the course in between. The night we
left Mar del Plata was a little eerie. The cloud had formed a low bowl and the
loom of Mar del Plata seemed to mushroom around the cloud. It was very still.
We were close hauled, but laying the course. Coastal towns beckoned ahead,
lightening the mood somewhat. I caught up on listening to music and musing.
The following day the wind headed us and we were forced to
put in some long tacks. There were some fishing boats about. Mayday started with
us being becalmed, but during the early hours of the morning the wind filled in
and by dawn it was SSE and we had our best days run. There were many small
albatross enjoying the thermals and we identified them as Black Browed
Mollymawks, which brought back fond memories of our friends. There were also
several Shoemakers about which re enforced my annual thoughts about the loss of
Ayrton Senna. My thoughts are often tangential and perhaps more so on passage.
 |
| Ralph or Michael? |
At night the stars were out in full force and the space
station rose spectacularly. I stood in the dome sipping some hot chocolate and
recalled nights of my early childhood when my Dad had made me a cup of Milo and
we then went into our back garden to stare at the sky and look for ‘Sputniks’.
South Africa only acquired television in 1974 and at the time I felt it was a
disadvantage, but now I’m not so sure.
The Friday we were alternatively becalmed or headed by the
wind, but we had a small brown hitchhiker who stay with us throughout the day
and overnight. We named him Lyndon B. Johnson and took care to move slowly when
adjusting the sails of the wind vane self-steering. Overnight we drifted with
the current, mostly in the wrong direction. L.B.J. deserted us once he realised
he was near land and could fly faster than we were sailing.
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| Lyndon B. Johnson |
Saturday was much of the same, but as we were nearing Cabo
Polonio on the Uruguay coast and we decided to head there. One entire watch I
drifted back and forth over what is marked as a dangerous wreck. The night was
stunning. There was virtually no moon and the Milky Way looked like a swath of
mist. I spent a lot of time in the cockpit. The night was balmy enough to sit
outside and enjoy the experience. I heard the loud exhalation that chilled my
blood the very first time I’d heard it, but now enthrals me. Mammals. In this
case it was a school of inquisitive seals! They moved about the stern like
wraiths, illuminated by the phosphorescence.
 |
| Cabo Polonio. |
We eventually put the engine on after breakfast and made
for an anchorage off the lighthouse. En route we saw the massive form of a Fin
whale. We caught up on sleep and watched a movie, setting off once more on the
Monday after breakfast. Tuesday we were becalmed again! It would’ve been
quicker to walk, if one could walk for twenty-four hours a day. However, the
sun was out and we had a glorious day, watching seals frolic in the sunshine.
They sometimes seemed to exhale just below the squatting Shoemakers, sending
them into the air with what seemed more like delight, than fear. Another game
was to come up through the ring of bright water with their eyes tightly closed,
moving their whiskers through the water as they basked in the warmth. Never did
they attempt to harm the myriad of birds.
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| Our pets. |
Aeolus continued to tease us, but finally we sailed into
Rio Grande de Sul and headed for the Oceanographic institute, where we hoped to
tie up. As we neared a traditional Brazilian boat approached and it was the
director of the institute, welcoming Pete once more. Soon we were tied
alongside their motor schooner ‘Bucaneiro’ with its festive flags flying
alongside the Jolly Roger. It felt good to be back in Brazil.
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| Brazil, at last! |
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| Ship turns as we sail/scrape by. |
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| Oryx alongside Bucaneiro at Oceanographic Institute, Rio Grande de Sul. |
The next blog will have a question and answer section. J.H. has already submitted several questions. Any others welcome.
Pete and Carly. junkoryx@gmail.com
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| Now available on Amazon. |
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