I stuck my new old Hobie 14 in the water for the first time on Sunday. In this galley report, I will relate all the details of the sailing trip.

I had spent the previous week rigging the boat, getting what was missing, and replacing what was broken. I was able to see what was needed by consulting some Hobie manuals, which I found online.

Rigging and repairing my Hobie

The Hobie 14 Turbo I had found in a paddock on a farm near Hoekwil looked great, after a bit of scrubbing and soap. The hulls were intact, with no separations in the foam and fibreglass sandwiches that form the hulls. But I did install some nylon washers between the rudders and the rudder brackets, to make them more stable and prevent the fibreglass chafing against the aluminium.

The folks at Star Marine in Mossel Bay had been happy to help, by providing advice and equipment for the sailboat. I bought a Zero life jacket and a pencil flare kit, which would come in very handy, should I get in trouble while at sea. I bought rope and bungee cord from some hardware retailers in town and set about installing new lines where required.

The jib furler is not retracting, and the original jib had flapped to tatters ages ago. But a replacement jib would cost almost as much as I had paid for the boat, so I decided to sail it as a classic Hobie 14, without the jib, until I can find a cheaper replacement, or can save up enough dough to buy the sail from Hobie South Africa.

I installed lights on the Hobie's trailer, to bring it up to standard. And I prepared lines and straps to secure the boat to the trailer properly - the lesson I learnt while tailoring the Hobie the first time still fresh in my mind.

A day for sailing

Eskom, the electricity provider in South Africa, had scheduled a power cut between 8 am and 5 pm for Sunday. So, going sailing all day seemed like a good plan.

The rest of the Clueless crew would also take the yacht for a sail, so at least I knew I would not be sailing all by myself. Our families would also make a day of it, having a braai (BBQ) at the Mossel Bay Yacht and Boat Club, which solved the problem of preparing Sunday lunch without and electricity!

It was a great day for sailing: the wind was blowing, but not much to start with, and the promise of better winds later in the day; the sun was shining, but the water was cool, if I needed to cool down; the swells in the bay were big enough to make sailing interesting, but not big enough to risk capsizing.

Getting under way

I carted the boat down to Santos Beach just after 7:30, before the beach (and parking) would fill with bathers.

I stepped the mast on my own, without much difficulty, after having a dry run (with help) during the week, on the lawn at home. I raised the sails and connected the mainsheet blocks, giving the rigging a last once-over, before launching into the calm surf off Santos Beach.

The wind was just enough to make the boat go, at first. But that was good enough for me, as I needed to get myself sorted out, and quickly learn the ropes. The wind soon picked up a little, though, and I set off to deeper waters.

I soon spotted Clueless coming out of the harbour, and we shouted hellos when we came abeam. But we quickly realised that our vocals were no good for inter vessel communications, and I made a mental note to get a waterproof VHF handheld radio to take along, the next time I go sailing my Hobie.

I set a course in the same direction as Clueless, but soon overtook them, even with only the mainsail flying, and without much tension on the sheet.

Enjoying Hobie sailing

I steered toward the beach again, lying face up on the trampoline, staring at the sky and the mainsail, and revelling in the motion of the water. When I got thirsty, I had a cold beverage from the small cooler bag, secured by the elastic cargo net I had made. And having a pee onboard was easy, thanks to the gaps in-between the Hobie's trampoline.

Sailing a Hobie cat was great, relaxing fun!

I shouted a suggestion for Clueless to accompany me on a sail around Seal Island, which they declined. So, I set a solo course, much deeper out to sea.

I had lots of time to marvel at the ingenuity in the design of the Hobie Cat. The swivelling mast with its 3 supporting cables, the battoned sail and the comfortable trampoline. Hobie Alter must be a very smart guy, I thought.

It had become time to jibe, witch I did in a controlled fashion. And which I repeated a few times, just for fun.

Coming to Seal Island, the Seven Seas was just rounding as well, with a boatload of sightseers. I kept clear and took a wide course around the island, closer to Diaz Beach. But the stench from the seal colony that inhabits the island was overpowering anyway!

The smell did give me a good indication of the wind direction. And sailing past the rolling surf off Diaz Beach, I felt invincible.

The Hobie 14 was designed to be sailed in the surf, I thought to myself. So, I sailed closer to the beach. But soon realised my mistake, when I stalled tacking to port with a big swell bearing down on me!

I quickly stuck my toes under the port hiking strap and leaned out as the wave hit. Hiking further than I had hiked all day, I was able to keep the Hobie upright. And the force of the wave broke the Hobie out of chains, to the starboard side. I quickly grabbed the opportunity to steer to a downwind reach, regaining steering, along with enough speed to take me out to sea again.

Mental note: Don't get into the surf again before acquiring a LOT more experience at sailing!

I must say, the Hobie performed well, and the steering was very responsive, when I got the boat powered up. So, sailing in the surf is something I probably will try again, soon enough.

Time to go back

Having set out early in the morning, rounding Seal Island, and having had a narrow escape, I decided that it was time to set a course for home. Home was upwind, and I tacked between short clause-hauled courses, to sail safely between the big steel buoys near Seal Island and the rocky beach between Diaz Beach and Die Bakke.

The Hobie, flying only a mainsail, stalled in every tack. An experienced young sailor from the yacht club, sailing nimbly in his Dabchick, came fluttering around the Hobie, which I kept stalling in the tacks.

He shouted instructions to me, sailing close by: "Get some boat speed before the tack!" and "You are sailing too close to windward. Don't pinch!"

I took his advice, and after gaining some momentum on a broader course, performed a decent tack to port. I was just tightening the mainsheet on the new course, when I saw it happen:

The shackle on the portside mast shroud came loose and the pin fell overboard, sinking to the bottom!

The stay was hanging limp, because the wind was applying force from the starboard side. I realised that I was in big trouble, but I still hoped to salvage the situation. If I could keep sailing this course, to keep the strain on the starboard shroud, I might be able to replace the shackle temporarily with my sailing spike. But steering a Hobie cat with your feet, while lying on your stomach, hanging on the mast shroud is no easy feat.

The inevitable happened: the weather helm took over and steered the Hobie into the wind. The tension moved back onto the port shroud, and I could not hold on. The mast slowly toppled to starboard, with the sail floating on the water.

I remained rather calm, reassuringly touching the pencil flare kit strapped to my life jacket only once. My young companion on the Dabchick suggested I try taking down the sail, preparing for a tow, because we both realised that stepping the mast at sea was impossible. One of the tourist boats were bound to come around the island again soon, so help was sure to come. But even taking down the mainsail, floating atop a de-masted Hobie Cat is a horrible task. I tried starting from the top of the sail, pulling toward the base, but the mainsail has a rope guide, which wedges into the mast rail, that won't give in this way. You have to take down the sail as if the mast was still upright, starting at the foot of the sail.

I struggled for about 10 minutes, taking down the sail, while the Dabchick sailed close circles around me. And then they were there!

The red and yellow motorised rubber duck from the NSRI arrived just as I was rolling up the last bit of my sail. Someone must have phoned in and reported a dinghy in distress. They attached a towrope to my righting line, which is securely tied to the fore pillars of the trampoline, and towed me, hanging on to my mast and sail, back to Santos Beach.

I had 30 metres of spare rope onboard, but the mast was hastily tied down. And hanging in the water over the stern, I had to pull it back onto the trampoline every now and then with my left hand, while steering with my right hand.

Beaching the Hobie

The guys from the NSRI dropped me off at Santos Beach, instead of at Monroe Bay, where I intended to beach the boat for December, but I wasn't going to complain. They helped me out of a tight spot!

I packed up my stuff and strolled along the beach to the yacht club, where I arrived just in time to tuck into a delicious braai. So, in hindsight, my first day as a Hobie sailor was a blast!

Note to self:

I will, however enjoyable the experience was, replace every last shackle on that catamaran with the type that has a hole in the pin, so I can fit a safety wire to prevent any shackle coming loose on me at sea. I also vow to replace all the pop rivets on the mast and shrouds, just to be safe, because they must be getting rather corroded, after who knows how many years of sailing.

I absolutely do not regret buying a Hobie 14. The boat is fun to sail. And it should be even more fun, if the mast doesn't fall off!

My bad luck must run out soon, so I will continue to sail, even if some folks think I'm crazy.