Night sailing and tornado...

54 nautical miles

Tim and I want to build up our night hours so we decided to do an overnight sail last night. The passage plan had been to broad reach south to Cape Kiti and then close reach south west. Then when the predicted wind turn happened around 5am to tack and turn north onto a close reach. The aim would be to see the new fishing harbour at Zygi just after dawn for breakfast. Then we would gybe around 6am and run back to Cape Kiti, have lunch while sailing, and finally a beam reach back to Larnaca Marina.

When we arrived at King Malu around 10pm Tim had all the sails ready for hoisting and so the rest of the crew - namely me, Jacob and Jörn got aboard, lifejackets on and we set off. This was the first time manoeuvring around the marina after dark so I was taking it carefully.

The first problem we noticed was the port and starboard navigation lights were not working. Great. That's all we need. Expected it to be a blown bulb. Navigation lights are the only non LED lights we have on the boat. It wasn't that. The wiring for the breaker panel is due to be renewed very sortly, maybe a wire off there. It wasn't that. Check power at the panel in the for'ard cabin and it's fine there, so it means it is somewhere between the for'ard cabin and the lamp unit. Eventually I traced it down to a corroded joint at the bow lamp fitting itself.

So we enjoyed the night for a short while and Jacob and Jörn (Jörn is Jacob's dad) went off to sleep in the for'ard cabin, Tim settled to sleep in the saloon and I took first watch. The wind was 11 knots 230 T so looks like the passage plan will work perfectly.

Tim had barely settled than he is up concerned that the bilge pump is making a lot of noise. We had been working in the engine room and adjusted the prop shaft so maybe the bearing there is leaking. But it isn't. Next thought is that maybe there had been extra water in the bilges and the pitching of the boat was just running it down to where it can be pumped out. We therefore manually pump out and Tim heads off to sleep again.

Less than 20 minutes later the bilge pump is on again. Maybe the pitching is pushing water back into the bilges. We pump out again and Tim goes off to sleep... again.

40 minutes later and the bilge pump is making noise again. So this is serious and we look round to try to locate the problem. Do we really have a leak on one of the through hull fittings? Checking those after dark isn't fun.

Eventually we trace it to a leaking fresh water tank seal and since the fresh water had been slightly over filled by Jacob earlier in the day this is where the extra water is coming from. Relief and Tim goes off to sleep again. Why does he get up? Well the saloon sea berth is just above the bilges so it's the noisiest place for hearing the bilge pump cut in. We do need to add an indicator in the cockpit so we know when the bilge pump cuts in.

The wind is still a steady 11 knots and from the same direction. We have genoa, full main and full mizzen and King Malu is nicely sailing along at 4.4 knots. That's slow for her, but the waves are choppy and holding her back. Still the sail plan feels comfortable and I am enjoying it immensely. At this stage I should have thought about Jacob and Jörn in the front cabin, but they seemed to be sleeping peacefully so I do nothing. If we had moved them to the stern cabin the ride would have been slightly less rough.

The plankton are being kicked aside by our bow wave as we plunge into the waves resulting is sparkling phosphorescent flecks cast out from the yacht as she surges through the water. That and the millions of stars overhead seen clearly because of the lack of light pollution make for a wonderful night alone with God.

About 45 minutes after midnight I spot a radar target on our port bow and track it to ensure it will pass astern of us. The wind has picked up marginally to 12 knots but our boat speed down to 3.9 knots. The waves are really impacting us.

I had been trying to give Tim a full 2 hours of uninterrupted sleep but he appears on deck so we change watch.

About an hour and a quarter later I wake and so we change watch again. The wind is still 12 knots and the waves must be slightly kinder as we are now up to 4.7 knots. I spot a ship on our port bow about two miles off and watch as she crosses ahead safely. I hand steer for quite a while, just for the sheer pleasure of doing so.

An hour later the wind has dropped three knots though the direction is still the same, but the waves must also have reduced as we are now up to 5.1 knots. I reduce the sensitivity of the autopilot and notice that the wheel is moving between two positions back and forth. So I try something: I turn off the autopilot and lock the wheel mid way between the two two points. I am fairly sure we are well balanced and having just read Joshua Slocum's account of his round the world passage without autopilot or wind vane I am interested to see how King Malu performs. I watch the wind indicator and the compass. She holds her course, weaving back and forth only slightly as she is knocked by the waves but holding true to her original course.

Just before 4am Tim comes on deck, we tack and head back towards the shore. Our aim still to see Zygi fishing harbour. If the wind holds we'll nearly get to Limassol. Tim relieves me on watch and an hour later the wind shifts and he starts the motor to motor sail. By the time I come on deck again at 5:26. I had asked me to called around dawn so I could see the sun rise over the Mediterranean.

On the starboard side... sunrise. On the port side... less than half a nautical mile away was a huge great car transporter. Tim thought they had seen us as they had slowed from 15 to 3 knots. While I watched both we and they changed direction (defensive sailing?) and they picked up speed again to 12 knots.

The wind had dropped to under 5 knots and it's now more motor than sailing. We'll not make Zygi, Tim has turned to be west of Cape Kiti. We discuss motoring more west towards Zygi, but if the wind does drop more still we are faced with a very long motor back to Larnaca and we still only have a 20 HP Honda outboard to drive us. Actually the Honda outboard is amazing. I think we ran it for nearly six hours and used only 10 euros of fuel.

Sometime around 7am we make some fresh percolated coffee and Jacob and Jörn appear. Sadly Jörn has not had a good night and is looking unwell. Normally the best way to revive Jörn is some good coffee, but this doesn't have the desired effect and he is sea sick.

Since the winds are light and about 120 degrees off our starboard quarter we decide it's time for all the light downwind sails and hoist both the asymmetric spinnaker and the mizzen stay sail.  We get another knot of speed out of this and King Malu looks like a ketch should, flying more canvas than a regular modern sloop! The motor revs are cut back and it's only assisting now, not the primary part of the propulsion.

A hour or so later Tim cooks breakfast, a feast of fresh tomatoes, cucumber, fried Haloumi and pitta bread.

I don't have the pitta as it seems flour products give me indigestion early in the morning. Jörn decided to give all food a miss and takes a shower instead.

We turn slightly more eastwards still towards a way point a mile or so south east of Cape Kiti. It's very shallow around that cape with shoal waters. Tim has run aground even on his trimaran so we are being careful. More careful than we need to be, since we pass another yacht motor sailing well inshore of us.

Jacob watches as she passes. It appears the yacht is moving very fast, but since we are it are both doing 5 knots then the apparent speed is about 10 knots.

We pass Cape Kiti. The wind generators behind Pervolia are easy to see. Jörn remarks how they spoil the landscape and I remember how my parents said exactly the same thing about the pylons crossing the South Downs when I was a child. He doesn't like them either, but both are a necessary part of 21st century life. I wonder what the island looked like one hundred years ago.

Jörn remarks how he does like to see the island like this from the sea. Some day I long to circumnavigate... not the globe, but the island.

Since the waves have now all but disappeared we are able to sail again rather than motor sail. Silence returns to the yacht. Not that the outboard is noisy - far from it, it's probably quieter than an inboard diesel as Tim remarked while  we were sitting chatting in the cockpit.

Tim and Jörn lay out in the sun. Not many minutes later Tim decides his legs are cooking in the hot Mediterranean sun and so I fetch a sheet from the cabin to allow his legs not to roast.

It's a leisurely gentle sail now, such a pity Jörn is still not feeling well enough to enjoy it.

Tim trims all the sails and King Malu is sailing so well we phone Claire and Erica and suggest they come down to the fishing harbour just south of Larnaca and we will sail inshore for them to photograph us. We don't have any photos of King Malu sailing except those taken on board.

I look at the chart plotter, checking depths and positions and work out a route. It will need a gybe to bring us to about 160 degrees on port tack to bring us inshore, then another gybe to 160 the other side for a run past them to photograph us, then a quick turn out. It's going to be fairly shallow, but should be OK.

As we gybe onto the port tack for the final run Claire manages to catch us on camera at the end of the lens just as the spinnaker fills with wind.

I am glued to the instruments. We have about seven knots wind and hardly gusting at all, which is good. The swimming buoys are now about 30-50 metres on our port side and I must not under any circumstances go into that area.

We have a preventer on the mainsail. Years ago I had done an accidental gybe on a yacht about the same size as King Malu and it had frightened me enough to never take chances. Of course, at that stage I had much less sailing experience than I have now, but experiences like that stay with you for years. Actually, seeing how much easier I found it to hold the course within a few degrees was encouraging to me.

But now I am totally focused on the wind... and the depth... and the chart plotter... and the swimming buoys... and a power boat that is moored... and a couple of ribs skidding about. Tim and Jacob are responsible for the sails, I'm going to remain focussed on helming.

Then... SLAP... what was that? Sounded like someone with a huge hand slapping the water just off our starboard bow. Tim points to the start of a tornado that has touched down about 25 metres from us on starboard quarter. I glance over, but am still glued to the instruments. We are now at 3.2 metres depth which does give 1.6 metres under the keel but that's not a lot of space for manoeuvring on our port side, especially with the swimming area that side too.

Suddenly we are knocked over to 30-40 degrees as the tornado sucks air towards it. The wind indicator spins right round. OK, what do do? The 15 tonne yacht is behaving more like a dinghy! It stabilises on our port bow so I throw the wheel over taking us directly into the wind hoping to spill as much wind as possible. Tim shouts for the safety knife which Jacob passes him and he slashes the spinnaker sheet letting the sail fly freely. I shout to Jacob to let the main sheet fly and Tim quickly removes the preventer so that the main sail can go where it wants. I start and engage the motor so that whatever the wind is doing with the sails flying free I still have some steerage.

In a few seconds it is all over and we are stable again. Albeit with a spinnaker flying loose, which Tim furls as quickly as possible. We find the sheet he had slashed shredded about 30cm. Who knows what stress that was under when he slashed it! There is a small tear in the spinnaker where it slashed across the shrouds.

The wind is now 12 knots gusting 15. It has nearly doubled in as many seconds as the wind speed.

I don't think I want to go through that again, but it was good to know how King Malu behaves. When 15 tonnes of yacht gets kicked over to 30-40 degrees in just a few seconds I wondered if she was going to go further, but she didn't, she came back and seeing how we as a crew behaved was good too. I realise she wasn't behaving like a dinghy as had we been out in the Wayfarer we would all be in the water by now! I had lost my first boat, a Mirror sailing dinghy, as the result of a tornado coming through our sailing club about four miles north of where we are now.

Since there may be more tornados we drop the main and mizzen sails and decide to motor back to the marina. Just as we arrive at the marina we find a committee boat moored a few hundred metres away from the entrance and yachts with full sails bearing down on us. We give way and get into the marina.

When we are moored I find that the sudden bounce to 30-40 degrees had knocked the floorboards in the stern cabin out or their normal resting place and so put them back, but other than that King Malu looks none the worse for the experience.

All in all it was a very enjoyable sail.