It has indeed been a long time since a newsletter came out – so, apologies to everyone who has been following the journey and cheering me on, and who might have been awaiting an update! My team, as always, had to crack the whip to get me to sit down and write about all the events of the past 3 months. It is now less than 6 months to the start of the Golden Globe Race 2022, and the race is definitely very much on!

I also just got back to my home in the Eastern Cape – exactly 2 years to the day since I left, and not knowing that a pandemic would erupt and stop me from coming home for such a long time. Reunited at long last with both my parents, as well as my dogs! A very special moment, that I have been longing for, for so long! Food for the soul…

Before I say any more, I would like to thank everyone who has been following this journey up until this point! If it had not been for all of you who have been supporting me with all sorts of different forms of assistance, from financial, to donation of gear and services, to advice and in cheering me along, I would not be where I am now! Although we are already some months into 2022, I wish you all a very happy and successful 2022, and I am honoured to know you will be following me on this race!

I left Prince Edward Island at the beginning of December, just as the winter was starting to deepen. It was a difficult departure for me, as it turned out much harder than expected to say good bye to the Prince Edward Islanders who had supported me through such a long refit, and have become very dear friends. As the islanders were getting ready for the onslaught of winter, I was sitting in the shelter of Souris Harbour, waiting for a weather window to head offshore out into the North Atlantic – but the winter lows were sweeping up the coastline, one after the other, and before I knew it, already 3 weeks had passed and there still had been no favourable window for departure. In those 3 weeks, temperatures had also started to drop below freezing, and the first snow had appeared, adding to my anxiety to leave before the winter became more extreme.

So, I decided one morning to leave Souris to head through the Canso Canal, and if need be, inch my way down the coastline. That morning temperatures were -8 Celsius, and it took a fair few kettles of boiling water to be able to defrost the mooring lines and melt the ice on top of the winches, before casting off. I got as far as a small harbour called Fisherman’s Harbour, where I sought shelter for a night as unfavourable headwinds blew – but then fortunately the next day a good weather window finally did present itself, for a departure offshore. With the encouragement and help of Larry Rosenfeld, who very kindly agreed to do the weather routing for me, I decided to use the window and made haste to stow the last few things and head out towards the open ocean. The only snag with leaving on that weather window, was that it entailed starting the trip in winds above 40knots, and gusting even higher than that. I asked the kind fishermen at Fisherman’s Harbour to cast me off, and they were happy to oblige, however they did ask me a few times whether I was quite sure that I wanted to leave in those conditions. I had my storm trysail all ready to hoist, and I was all prepared to take the seas on the beam, as Minnehaha and I would be choosing a course to clear the continental shelf at shortest distance, just giving Sable Island a wide enough berth, before getting into deep waters. I must admit, that as I made my way out of Fisherman’s Harbour, past all the rocks and reefs, under bear pole, with an offshore wind and towards sunset, I did feel as though I was doing something rather crazy. It is one thing getting caught out in bad weather, but another thing altogether leaving the safety of a port to head out into rough weather. As I cleared the reefs, I hoisted the trysail and the staysail, and got Minnehaha onto her course. The further we moved from the shelter of land, the rougher the seas became, and the darker it became, as night fell. By that time, I had quite a bit of anxiety that had been building up over the months of refit and waiting to head out to sea. I have to admit, that in those conditions, I was definitely being reminded of just how uncomfortable it is to be seasick – but as I slowly got back my sea-legs, Minnehaha did exactly what she was designed and built to do: glide through the waves and water, propelled by her sails, and make way! She carried me very steadily and securely, and I soon realized, that I was on a boat that merited my absolute confidence. So steadily did she handle the conditions, that I was able to be in the shelter below deck, getting some much-needed rest. In the first 24 hours in those conditions, we averaged 6.5 knots.

There was, however, one nuisance, that would annoy me for the rest of the trip: the portholes were leaking right from the start. They were leaking from beneath their frames, and not from the gaskets, so no matter how tightly I closed them, the water was coming in, and many things, including my laptop got wet from the word go. The laptop was damaged and unusable as a result, and many things went moldy within only days after leaving, not to mention all the salt in everything. I was able to caulk the portholes up a bit and stem the amount of water entering, but I knew that it would be a big, dusty job awaiting me in the next port – not something I felt like after an already rather lengthy refit, of sanding, fairing, priming, painting and cleaning up… Such are boats! Always work to be done, and jobs that one did not expect. On the bright side, however, the problem of the leaking portholes was only one that introduced a bit of discomfort, but no danger. The things that needed to hold their own and perform, surely did – and did so very successfully – so I really had no reason to complain! 

Minnehaha carried us further and further South in those first days, and before long we had entered the Gulf Stream, and the water and air temperature drastically went up, which certainly made things a lot more comfortable. We stayed on a close-reach and as close to the wind as we could for many days, just trying to get South as quickly as possible, and out of the “bowling alley” of North Atlantic winter lows. As we did so, I got into the rhythm of sailing Minnehaha, and life aboard, and even life at a constant heeling angle started taking on a level of normality. We were also lucky enough to start seeing flying fish, Minke whales, tropic birds, and even caught sight briefly of a sperm whale within only one week into the trip!

I have to add at this point, that 4 very dear and generous friends of mine on Prince Edward Island, who knew that the departure from there for me had not been an easy one, thought about how they could add an element of cheer to my journey, and the solution they came up with, was to send me a generous amount of Iridium Satellite Phone airtime, so that I could talk to them at my leisure. So, a very big thank you to Eddie Arsenault, Darren Cousins, Arleigh Hudson and Gordon McCleod for that very sincere and generous gift! It really did lift my spirits – and staying in touch with all of you for the entirety of the passage was really grand! Also, a big thank you to Jeremy Carter from Northern Axcess, who has been attending to all our Sat Phone needs and was always on stand-by to help if and where he could. Unfortunately my laptop got damaged, so  I could not make use of the super-cool Axcess Mail, which would have allowed me to send emails and receive grib files – but that does not change the fact, that Jeremy had given me the UUplus Axcess Mail subscription as his contribution to the trip, and that it worked very well up until the laptop got water damaged!

Eddie, having you as remote, technical support, to discuss all technical and performance issues on Minnehaha, was amazing! Darren, getting updates and news from PEI, allowed me to continue to feel connected to the island at times when I really longed for my “second home”, and Gordon – if it was not enough what you and all the fishermen at French River did for me, to still get that generous contribution from you, just made me realize again how lucky I had been to land up on PEI, and that there is a lasting connection between me and the Prince Edward Islanders, for which I am very grateful! Certainly, not least, Arleigh – after everything you have done for me on PEI, you continued to support throughout that crossing in any way you could, and I will remain grateful for your friendship!

With the laptop down, and no more grib files, Larry Rosenfeld made sure to keep me informed about weather, which not only helped me to make the fastest, possible headway with given weather conditions, but Larry also kept an eye on the safety factor, as well as keeping all the team members informed – which in turn allowed them to post updates of my journey on social media. This became really important, as the tracking device had also unexpectedly and without any particular reason, given up, so instead I sent daily position reports to Larry and the team.

On note of team, I have to say a very big thank you here to Alicia Biggart, who tirelessly kept the campaign alive while I was out at sea – making sure that the followers on social media remained updated, that any paperwork that needed to be completed was taken care of, that any media outreach was answered and so forth. Thank you, Alicia – and to the whole team – including Erin Ranney, Alan Burland, Jerome Drnovsek, Simone Bond and everyone else who kept things moving forward while I was out at sea! I am very honoured and lucky to have you all along with me on the journey!

A week or so into the trip, we were basically already into the Northeasterly tradewinds, and from there on there were any amount of flying fish, the water became warmer and warmer, and we remained on the same tack on a close reach for weeks… The reason for keeping on a close reach was to be able to clear the Horn of Brazil with enough berth. If I had been able to leave earlier in the season, I could have aimed initially for sailing towards the Azores in order to make easting, but given the winter season and the latitude at which storms were passing, it made sense initially to get as far and as quickly South as possible.

Once into the Trades and off the shipping route, life became very peaceful. Other than rain squalls, conditions were very steady, as was progress. The water was warm, the skies were mainly clear – and having a drag behind the boat became a routine way to cool off in the afternoons. I was lucky that I managed to escape the doldrums quite gingerly, and other than a day or two of light (but still sailable winds), I was able to keep moving, until after a few heavy rain-squalls, I eventually met up with the Southeast Trades, still just North of the equator, and managed to sail with those into the Southern Hemisphere and onwards, southwards towards the Southern Ocean, leaving the Horn of Brazil behind us, catching only a fleeting glimpse of the loom of the island of Fernando de Noronha and then setting a new course towards the Brazilian Island, Trinidade, as a good waypoint.

This stretch too was rather uneventful. We had the occasional black noddy hitch-hiker landing on the lifelines at dusk, but taking to the wing again at dawn. On a couple of occasions rather large schools of up to 30 to 40 white-tipped dolphins joined Minnehaha to play in her bow wave, and make me feel that joy that I always feel at seeing the curiosity and joyfulness of dolphins!

As the journey was progressing, I was also using the opportunity to practice celestial navigation; taking sights every day and whenever feasible, as seriously as I would have without a GPS on board. At first it did seem like a rather cumbersome way of figuring out where you are, but the more I got into the routine of it, the more I enjoyed it, and each time my dead reckoning and then subsequent sight calculations put me close to our GPS position, there was certainly a great sense of satisfaction, and it started to feel like second nature. I found the sun-run-sun sights worked best for me: morning sight and then an afternoon sight, maybe also with a noon sight for the latitude. The moon also turned out to be one of my favourite celestial bodies to take sights of, as the moon is often visible at the same time as the sun. The evenings were good for practicing star and planet sites, if the clouds did not obscure things. Altogether it was quite a learning curb, in terms of accurate DR, but also to trust one’s sights, when they did not correspond to the DR. At one stage my compass went out by up to 40 degrees – even though there was no new metallic interference, and this quickly highlighted the importance of doing compass checks when possible!

We did not actually catch sight of Trinidade, but did end up leaving the island to port, as we made our way further South towards the Island of Tristan da Cunha and into the Southern Atlantic. One of the sure signs of having reached the South Atlantic is the majestic presence of various species of albatross, who quickly make themselves appreciated by a lone sailor, as constant companions that glide on the airs, and never fail to impress with just how skilled they are on the wing!

On our entrance into the Southern Ocean, we seemed to be skirting the edge of the high for a number of days, which gave us running, but light winds, and it was a good opportunity to fly the gennaker. As the wind angle closed in and put us more on a close reach, we had a chance to try out the Code 0, eventually getting into the proper South Atlantic, where again, we had running, but stronger winds. One of the systems that passed us to the South turned out to bring in very large, long period swell, but without actually pushing the wind any higher than 45 knots. Minnehaha performed well in these running conditions too, and the elements pushed us closer and closer towards the fair Cape, until upon a day, Cape Point and Table Mountain became visible, in the far distance and haze.

Approaching Cape Town must be one of the grandest land approaches: the water colour and temperature tend to change – where previously there was nothing or very little, there are suddenly patches of kelp, fur seals warming their flippers on the surface, terns feeding off schools of perhaps krill, and not to mention Southern Right Whales. The shipping also suddenly picks up – from seeing no ships for weeks, to only the odd, isolated one, there suddenly are cargo and fishing ships in all corners of the horizon. And the mountain just grows higher and higher and more magnificently out of the sea, until it looms overhead like a majestic giant, with roads and houses and all the activity of a busy city becoming apparent. The VHF starts becoming very active too, with all sorts of vessels – sailboats, fishing boats, charter boats and ships asking permission to enter and exit port.

And next thing I knew, as in the blink of an eyelid, and yet seemingly such a long instant away since leaving PEI, I was getting the anchor out again, getting mooring lines and fenders rigged, asking port control for permission to enter port – and then, I saw my dear friend, Manual Mendes, in his little motor boat, with his friendly, smiling face and a hand raised in the air in a welcoming gesture, waiting just at the breakwater to say hello and guide me in to his dock at the East Quay Boatyard in the V&A Waterfront of Cape Town. What could be a warmer welcome than to see Manuel’s smiling face after 56 days at sea – AND – also my sister, Pascale, who, together with her little Boston Terrier, were standing at the swing bridge as it opened to let Minnehaha and me in!  More than 2 years since I had last seen her! Moments like those make all the trials and tribulations worthwhile!

And that was that then – the journey at sea came to an abrupt, but very good end, and so started the next phase of time in port in Cape Town. The very next day my mother arrived from Port Elizabeth and came to stay aboard Minnehaha with me. She had been a constant support from a distance throughout the refit and the crossing to South Africa, so it did not surprise me that she came as soon as she could to be a support to me in person! Little did she or I know, that we would spend the next 4 weeks together on Manuel’s dock aboard Minnehaha. My mother stayed with me throughout that time and helped me with 101 jobs and things that needed to be organized: the rat-race of being on land again was fully upon me – and without my mother’s help, it would have taken much longer to get things done. My mother has no fear of any kind of job: she helped me with absolutely anything I asked her: whether to help me move the boat, or get her hands full of Sika glue to fix the portholes, or to run behind me with a vacuum cleaner and clean up wherever I left a cloud of dust, or even do the groceries and make sure there was a nutritious and tasty meal to be had at the end of a long work day – she was right there with me through it all!

Manuel, I cannot thank you and all your guys enough for hosting us on your dock at East Quay Boatyard, and for all the materials, tools, help and advice that you have given! Not sure where I would be in all those jobs without you! So honoured for your help and for your friendship, and so grateful to have had space for Minnehaha on your dock!

One of the first jobs I tackled (and the thing I had been thinking about most and dreading the most), was fixing the portholes. As expected, it turned into a big and multi-staged job, of first prying out the frames, then cleaning all the old glue off, then sanding and prepping the surface to fair it where damage had been done to pry the frames out – then sanding, priming, sanding, top-coat painting, sika-priming, drilling etc. until the portholes were ready to be glued and bolted in again. Gratefully I had worked with Eddie on the refit, so that I had an understanding of what to do, and had taken a lot of materials, like fairing and paint with me. Eddie also consistently offered his advice from a distance! And eventually that job too was done.

In between that, there were all sorts of other jobs, as well as a few press engagements – and on that note, I’d like to thank the Royal Cape Yacht Club, for sending me a welcome via my team and Sat Phone, even before I arrived, offering mooring at the club – and for giving me complimentary access to the club facilities! A big thank you to Toni and Christa for arranging a press event there, which gave me an opportunity to talk of my experiences and my preparation for the race – and put the word out there for the ongoing search for potential corporate partners and the general support I still need to get to the start-line. The  RCYC hosted a lovely event evening, with a very good turn-out people – a big thank you to all of whom attended – as well as to Bon Courage Wine Estate for sponsoring the refreshments for the evening! I really felt very honoured and very welcome!

Similarly, the False Bay Yacht Club contacted my team ahead of arrival, extending a welcome to their club – a gesture that was kind and sincere, and whilst I stayed in the city bowl of Cape Town, the knowledge that I would have been welcomed there was great.  I had a lovely evening over on that side of town at the FBYC! Thank you for hosting the evening and to all members who were in attendance and showed their support!

After 4 intense weeks in Cape Town (with a brief, 3-day excursion to St. Helena Bay, where I managed to squeeze in the compulsory survival-at-sea-course), I took the V & A Waterfront Marina up on their very generous offer for free mooring for Minnehaha – moved her over to their basin, tied her up securely – gave her a well deserved pat on the deck, and a word of thank you, and then left her to have a well-earned break. I climbed into a car with my mother and off we drove to the Eastern Cape, to spend some much needed time at home, and to catch (only a short, little) break from the boat…

The break will only be short, because, as always there are jobs still to be done on a boat – items (especially expensive, compulsory safety gear, like tracking devices and antenna, another, new Iridium 9555 and antenna, life-rings, flares, SART’s, EPIRB’s, RADAR Reflector’s, harnesses and the list goes on and on…) before heading back out to sea towards Europe, for the pre-race events, and ultimately the start of the race…

Again, a big thank you to everyone who had been in some way or another a part of this journey – from all the large and generous contributions in money, expertise, gear, services etc., down to the small, yet meaningful gestures of encouragement and votes of confidence!

May the journey continue!

Kirsten

Partnership:

Is your company or organization interested in sponsoring Kirsten? There are plenty of advertising opportunities!

Please email aliciabiggart@gmail.com for additional info on branding opportunities.

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Current Fundraising Needs:

Our goal for March is $2500 to cover Kirsten’s sat phone, data and communication.

If you are interested in donating please visit Kirsten’s GoFundMe account or contribute via PayPal.

Recent Press:

Many thanks to the CBC for their continued support. Kirsten’s interview on Compass can be found at the 11:15 mark.

One of the first interviews Kirsten did upon returning to Cape Town was with Pippa Hudson at Cape Talk radio. Click HERE for the full conversation. Pippa, thank you for the warm welcome home.

Thanks as well to author, sailor and podcaster Paul Trammell for a fascinating conversation on the latest season of his podcast.

Please contact kirstenggr@gmail.com with media inquiries.

If you would like to be added to Kirsten’s monthly newsletter, please add your contact info HERE.

About the race: The Golden Globe Race 2022 is a solo, non-stop, unassisted circumnavigation. This retro race is based on the first solo circumnavigation race that took place in 1968. In order to stay true to the original circumnavigation, boats are all older designs, no bigger than 36 foot- and modern navigational technology, like GPS, is not permitted. Instead Kirsten will need to depend on her skills in celestial navigation and dead reckoning. The route for the race starts in France, down the Atlantic, east-about the Southern Ocean, and back up the Atlantic to France - an approximate distance of 30,000 nautical miles and anywhere from 7 to 9 months or more at sea.