pearls from the log
A British group is perfecting the art of the near impossible race. “The Adventurists”
have now run the first edition of the Ngalawa Cup. The adverts for the race show
the Ngalawa as something akin to stunt sailing and tout the race as death defying.
Shipwrecked…Capsized………..all aboard an old African tradition the ngalawa, a
hollowed out mango tree with outriggers and a cotton hanky for a sail. As the sailors
we are, the lure to do the race was impossible to resist. Our team of three, Mark
Gifford, Carey Crawford-Brown, and Kate George spent 10 months readying to do
what we perceived to be a race like none other.
Our background allowed us to believe we could handle this.
The Ngalawa Cup
A race like none other.
So far.
Carey Crawford- Brown
PHOTOGRAPHY
www.oakpics.com
Shari Thompson
14 2016 LAUNCH
Say you saw it in GAM
Mark is a solo sailor who has been
around the lake for years racing fully
crewed and short hand long distance
racing on his own boats while getting
additional time in crewing on various
different boats including J-105s and
C&C’s of various sizes. I have my time
in on the ocean, racing and cruising
combined in addition to lake cruising
and racing. Kate is a lake cruiser and
racer.
December 27,2015, we boarded
the first plane for the 2 day trip to
Tanzania navigating our way through
the airports of France and Nairobi,
Dar Es Salaam in Tanzania and finally
landing on Pemba Island just in time
for the tail end of the first training day.
Training involved rigging the
ngalawa with modern ropes to replace
the more commonly used hemp for
running rigging. The first realization
we had was that all of the rigging was
running rigging. Technically, there
was no standing rigging. Hmmmmm.
And only one stay, a running stay at
that. Where exactly does the main
halyard go. The main sheets????
The tack line. There is no more?
Hmmmmm. Day two and Day three
training days coming up.
Throughout the next ten days, we
would get to know our competitors
very well. What began as scoping out
the competition very quickly turned
into camaraderie, group collaboration,
and mutual support between friends,
alliances, and ongoing competition.
Training Day 1
It was a beautiful stress free day of
sailing on the Indian Ocean with a
local skipper showing us everything he
could think of while speaking almost
no English. Let the Swahili Charades
game begin. If there was to be no
other win in the race we would always
have the satisfaction that our ability
to communicate in Swahili Charades
was absolutely above average. On this
day we watched how to gybe a tackless
boat and how to chicken gybe (a 270
degree gybe) that same tackless boat.
We learned the feel of the rudder and
knew that we had rushed to judgment
in error and the rudder was not too
small. We learned how to balance
the boat and knew that to keep the
ngalawa upright we would be doing
some fairly serious acrobatics with the
stealth like movements of a leopard
sneaking up on its prey. Easy. We
have this. We settled into our tents in
Mosquito Heaven at the end of the
day. No clue what it was really called
and its real name was irrelevant to all
of us who were literally consumed by
mosquitos.
The Naming of our ngalawa
“RYS Bella” and her sinking
thereafter
Wake up at Mosquito Heaven was
4:30 am in order to prep for the 6:AM
departure to Nungwi on Zanzibar
Island a mere 35 miles away. Another
training day, another skipper, another
lovely day of learning on the water.
Then Kate screamed. Inside her
tent was a spider the size of her hand.
Well. Kate was up and ready to go
with no thoughts of going back to
bed. In fact, Kate’s discovery of a
giant water spider in her tent before
dawn woke the remaining sleepers
in camp. She continued shreaking
repeatedly as the head lamp she wore
magnified the size of the creature to
epic African proportions. It was 430
am. It would be our usual rising time
over the coming days. Kate’s tent got
packed with the spider inside and by all
accounts we were certain Kate wasn’t
going to be sleeping in her tent again.
Checking our ngalawa we came to
understand on this morning that we
would be spending a lot of time bailing
our incredible sinking “RYS Bella.”
Her name was now officially true to
her. She was once again sunk to the
gunnels, just like the day before. The
videographer shone his light in my face
and asked if I was ready for today. My
response was simple. I feel like we are
preparing to meet our doom. Today
would be 30 knots of wind and a 35
mile crossing from Mosquito Heaven
to Nungwi, Zanzibar. All open water.
What could possibly go wrong?
We had a new local skipper assigned
to us who did not speak English. We
would come to know that he didn’t
care to learn. He yelled Swahili at us
and we could only guess his intention.
Our new local skipper had completely
re-rigged “RYS Bella.” Nothing was
as we had left it. Starting from scratch,
we knew the learning curve today was
going to be high. The day was only
beginning. Our new skipper refused
to allow the raising of the main as we
departed Mosquito Heaven because
we needed to get out far enough to
clear the mangroves. We were in a
position to easily clear the mangroves
and should not have been required to
paddle out past the point a kilometre
away. Our local captain was a yeller.
We did exactly what we think we
were told. We were told not to raise
the main therefore our inability to just
paddle against the strong wind and
the current landed us deep into the
mangroves. At this point nothing was
going right. With that auspicious start,
we were off for day 2 - training day.
The day passed uneventfully, but for
random nonsensical Swahili gibberish
coming from our skipper. Repeatedly
we checked the charts and GPS. We
were not headed the right way. The
Coming into Mosquito Heaven at the end of our first practice day on Dec 30.
This was Pemba Island. The next day RYS Bella was lost at sea.
Say you saw it in GAM 2016 LAUNCH
15
Approaching Rogue’s Roost
The Ngalawa Race follows the Tanzanian
coastline, using the trade winds (north to
south in January south to north in July).
The name refers to two big islands,
Unguja (often also called Zanzibar,
helpfully) and Pemba, as well as lots of
smaller islands.
The Adventurists*
Fighting to make the world
less boring. Every adventure
we run raises money for some
fantastabulous charities. We
quite like the world and adventuring therein so we figure we should give something
back for all those times she’s got us lost
and stuck. So far teams on our adventures
have raised a mind bending amount of
cash money. But it won’t stop there. More
we say. More. Until the world is actually
saved. Head to the charity section to see
who we are currently supporting.
For information or amazing life adventures
visit www.theadventurists.com
16 skipper obviously knew something
we didn’t. And so we continued to
blindly follow. With 15 miles to go
and a lovely sail under our belt, we
were shooed off the tiller and replaced
by said local captain. We watched
as he then single handed the boat
but for Kate our spar monkey and
manual ballast. The yelling stopped.
We were still headed in a direction
that was adding at least 5 miles to our
day. We succumbed. We were all just
deck fluff now. We were not exactly
at ease with this. There seemed to be
no choice. Two A-type skippers at
the mercy of someone who we were
supposed to learn from who offered
us nothing. At once we all sensed the
upcoming wind shift. It was in the
air. You could see it in the waves. We
moved to help with the duties. The
captain continued to single hand by
demand. The main sheet had been tied
off. The main back winded and before
we knew it we were experiencing our
first capsize. “RYS Bella” went over.
Something wasn’t quite right about
this capsize, but since it was our first
we had no foundation for the thought;
she continued to roll. She turtled. This
was not correct. We couldn’t right her.
We tried everything. Within moments
we sent a message that we turtled and
needed assistance. No response. It was
11:30am. At 2:00pm we sent our first
S.O.S.. We were not dismembered
or dying but we sent it anyway. We
finally had a response from HQ. They
knew where we were. Committee
boat was on the way. Our moral had
maintained an air of camaraderie and
there was a light heartedness amongst
us as we straddled the top of the upside
down mango tree, continuously wet
from large ocean waves and sunburnt
to a crisp because our sunscreen was
not within reach. Singing and chatting
went on for a total of six hours before
we finally saw Bekorah. Our saviours.
Like Indiana Jones, Mark and the race
committee rep Eben began diving
under our disabled “RYS Bella” to
start pulling our gear. The dry bags
were dry and the wet bags were very
very wet. With help from Yosef,
Bekorah’s amazing driver, we managed
to pull all our gear into the power boat
2016 LAUNCH
including boom and halyards. The
boat was gone. Our “RYS Bella” need
to sink was absolute. Our new local
skipper was still praying as we saluted
the outline of the turtled vessel and
left, as he had been doing from the
moment help arrived. We arrived into
Nungwi at 10:00pm New Years Eve,
rinsed with a freshwater hose for that
purpose by the bathrooms and begged
for the bartender to chill our bottle
of champagne somehow. New Years
Eve was going to happen and we did
not intend to miss it. We no longer
had a boat. How do we race without
a boat? We did not find the answer in
the champagne we drank and there
remained no answer after the tequila
either.
Lay Day
In all there were five boats lost
that second day. Three boats sank.
Two were carelessly anchored and
drifted off. January 1 was declared a
lay day as the scramble began for the
Adventurists.* How do you purchase
five old, decrepit ngalawas. Well, they
managed it. We had a new boat; very
new to us. We named her but she
never really felt like ours. “Hermana
de Bella” was no “RYS Bella.”
The Race
Nungwi, Zanzibar Island to Kilwa
Masoko with a pitstop at Rozndaggy.
350 nautical miles through the
Zanzibar archipelagos. The rules. No
sailing before 6:00am and no sailing
after 6:30pm. We were to check in as
we left the beach each day. We were
to check in as we landed on the beach
each day. Failure to do so was a time
penalty. We were not to activate SOS
unless we were dismembered or dying.
If we lost our tracker or it ceased to
function, we were disqualified from
racing. If we used a local captain, we
were disqualified from racing. We
could leave a crew member behind
but if that same crew member were
to rejoin us, we were disqualified
from racing. We could trade out crew
members and pick up teams from other
boats. If we accepted assistance from
race committee, we were assessed a
time penalty. We were supplied with
Say you saw it in GAM
functioning boats and a satellite, gps
tracker with texting abilities which
required regular charging, 3 laminated
charts manipulated to a smaller more
useable size. And so began our first day
of racing without aid of local captain.
The Start
The start was explained to us as a
traditional racing start, except that
the ngalawa doesn’t tack. One either
gybes the Ngalawa or “chicken gybes”
it doing that full 270 degree turn.
We had to get from the beach to the
start line - a large orange pin and
race committee. A mass of fishing
ngalawas stood between us and
the start line requiring us to weave
through them. Our course required
us to point in a way these boats are
not supposed to. No engine. Three
paddles and a mighty will not to have
to gybe anymore than we had to
especially at the start. At this point,
our biggest weakness was that we
had not completed a solo gybe. Our
second greatest weakness was that
because we had come into Nungwi on
the committee boat in the dark, we
had no idea of our surroundings and
the charts were less than helpful. Our
third greatest weakness was that we
had never sailed our new boat before.
The rigging remained untested. So,
in “Adventurist” style, off we went.
We heard the countdown, heard the
horn, saw another boat needing help
so we stopped and assisted. We finally
crossed the start line, an hour late, but
with a style and grace that showed the
world we had been sailing ngalawas
all our lives and were as good as any
local. Sort of. Regardless, we stuck
to the plan, sailed the shortest course
and within two hours were passing
our competitors. Finally we were at
the front of the pack. It was then we
realized we had no idea where we were
going. Charts came out. We located
our position, determined our route,
and sailed forward on a beautiful sunny
day on the Indian Ocean, on our
way to Stonetown, Zanzibar island.
From 8:00am to 3:00pm we sailed.
Every heading was determined by our
unwillingness to gybe. Finally at noon
it happened. We were in a position
where we had no choice but to gybe.
At risk of boring all, we will eliminate
the minute details. Suffice to say Kate,
our spar monkey, promptly landed in
the water and at 6.1 knots clung to
the spar from the water and physically
did the running stay work from
below. Then like Wonder Woman she
hauled herself back into the mango
tree to complete the rest of her tasks.
She lassoed the running stay around
the port outrigger and managed to
What a indifference a few days makes slap chicken
gybing our way to the finish line at Kilwa Masoko.
Our final approach at Kilwa Masoko. 8 days of racing.
Sleeping on beaches. Sleeping on boats. Shipwrecked.
Capsized. And for us....turtled. We would do it again in a
heartbeat.
Say you saw it in GAM 2016 LAUNCH
17
get everything hooked up when
we realized the knot was a locking
knot and not a slip knot. It had to be
undone. At this point the committee
boat with the photographers aboard
showed up. All of our gybe work
has been memorialized by camera.
Our regret was that they missed
the opening act. Forty five minutes
later Mark, and I high fived as Kate
attempted to rejuvenate as quickly
as possible because without her on
the spars we would surely capsize.
Anything that could go wrong did go
wrong. However, we were so proud
of our accomplishment that we didn’t
care that it was not carried out with
the grace and style of pros. We did
not capsize. We sailed on. Another
moment of pride occurred when the
wind behind the island came up. The
water was flat and we found ourselves
doing over eight knots. The pride was
18 short-lived when we had no idea how
to de-power the boat. None of the
controls seemed to have any impact.
We hung on tightly for the ride of our
life. As we entered Stonetown Harbour
a large island hopping ferry was on a
collision course with us. Mark and I
looked at each other, determined to
not alter course. There would be no
gybe. We attempted to see the whites
of the ferry captain’s eyes to let him
know we weren’t moving. We couldn’t
see him as the ferry was simply too
large. Mark and I were both astonished
to see the ferry alter its course entirely
and go around us even though he
chose to pass in front of us. Kate
continued to hang from the stay, where
she had been all day blindly believing
that we had everything under control. We arrived into Stonetown boat
number three after being the second
last boat to cross the start over an hour
Kilwa Masoko. 350 miles on
the Indian Ocean. Check.
2016
LAUNCH
Alive.
Check. Happy?
Oh yes. Very.
late. See? We were awesome!
The debriefing amongst our team
that night was short and simple.
We needed to re-rig the boat in an
effort to make things easier for Kate.
Somehow we had to improve on our
timing for gybes as we knew that
forty-five minutes was too long. We
needed to find a way to de-power the
boat so as not to lose control. Bring on
day two.
Day two had us late for leaving, so
late that the wind and waves were now
sizeable enough to cause issue getting
off the beach. All the teams had a
meeting to discuss the day’s plan. As
we were all still new, we would stay
together as a security blanket as we
headed away from civilization. One
by one, each team climbed aboard
their ngalawas and headed off the
beach. One by one each ngalawa
capsized. We watched trying to figure
out a way not to meet the same fate. As
luck would have it, we were pushing
off as Susie from Team Toad Hall
approached us needing help. Being
the first to capsize, it was breaking
apart as each wave slammed it onto the
shallows of the beach. We returned
to the beach to help and damaged the
rudder in doing so. We would all need
the boat Fundi today. Mark headed to
help Toad Hall and I went looking for
a Fundi to help us all with boat repair.
In all the four boats that tried to leave
were all still there at 1:00pm being
repaired by Fundis. It was this day
we truly realized that this was a race,
like it or not. Long after the other
boats, our boat finally fixed, we left
Stonetown to parts unknown. We only
had two hours to sail and we weren’t
going very far. Yet another new aspect
to the race presented itself. We were
on our own to land where we land and
make do with what we found. In the
upcoming days, there would be times
we would get lucky and times when
we would not.
The Chief’s Village. A
Welcome Surprise
We separated from the group upon
departing from Stonetown and chose
our destination by sight as we only
had time to do ten miles. At the five
Say you saw it in GAM
mile mark we located a large white
building that seemed like it might
be ten miles away. The goal was no
capsize, no penalties, and to travel as
far as we could as fast as we could.
We were behind and could not afford
mistakes. Today, we would truly learn
that there is no right or wrong way
to sail a ngalawa. Do what works. For
two hours we pinched and feathered to
accommodate our landing. Even then
we averaged six to seven knots. We
stayed upright. We covered ten plus
miles, landed and checked in before
dark. We had surprisingly chosen well
for the night.
The village Chief met us as we came
into the harbour with hundreds of
Say you saw it in GAM children laughing and playing in the
water on shore. Mark left Kate and I to
unload all our gear as he and the Chief
went off to negotiate the “financials”
of our overnight stay. We dined on
octopus stew, cold beer and french
fries under the stars at a makeshift
table complete with flowers for the
girls. We were provided with guides to
the bathrooms and the chief slept just
outside our compound for our security.
The stars were especially beautiful that
night. Morning came all to soon. All
of a sudden it was 4:30am.
The Checkpoint
As the sun came up we signed the
chief ’s guest book and his entourage
2016 LAUNCH
helped us with our gear to the boat.
A light wind provided a beautiful
start to another thirty-five mile day
on the Indian Ocean as we crossed
from Zanzibar to our mandatory
checkpoint of Ras Ndege. We would
see no other competitors today during
our sail. They were all well out in
front. Rain and sun and 15 knot winds
were upon us for thirty five miles of
open ocean with twelve to fourteen
foot swells. Today was the day we
became flying fish and experience the
true beauty of the Ngalawa, realizing
that this was the perfect boat for these
conditions. Today was also the day
Mark would drink bad water and
become so sick, incapacitated to the
19
point of unconscious, yet still man
the tiller right to the checkpoint.
Given all of that, we were the third
boat in at the checkpoint and one of
the only boats to surf through the
breakwaters surrounding the beaches
of Ras Ndege (the only mandatory
checkpoint). Had to steer a little high
to avoid the disabled ngalawa of one
of our competitors who didn’t quite
get it right, and drift casually past the
committee boats coming to a gentle
rest as we grounded perfectly to a
halt. Mark climbed out of “Hermana
de Bella” and wandered off to sleep
for eighteen hours nonstop as the bad
water worked through his system. 4:30
am came too soon the next day.
Have you ever found yourself
staying overnight at an African
fishing camp without knowing
your plans for the next day?
The fourteen foot tides were the
one thing that could make or break
our day. During the nights we had to
continuously move the boats so that
we didn’t land lock ourselves out of an
early morning start. In the morning,
our departures were timed with high
tide so as to accommodate our need to
actually be floating. We could move
the boats around noon dry land if we
had an army of team mates available
to help and so leaving Ras Ndege
we found ourselves all pitching in
to move boats closer to the water in
order to actually leave. We left later in
the morning due to the tides and as a
result the wind was already up and the
waves were already breaking on the
mainland beach. Armed with a good
plan and a lot of hope, we began our
20 departure. Boom raised, sail down
and up into the wind we went to get
past the sand bar. Then cracking off a
little to a beam reach we headed out
to sea avoiding the breakwaters, the
reefs off to port and heading out far
enough that one gybe would have us
clear the point to our starboard. Yes.
We were about to do another gybe.
This one would be in fairly large
swells. Not ideal. We followed the
mainland coast calculating the drift
to keep us off reef after reef after reef.
With the last reef cleared we adjusted
course for Funjovi and began the more
relaxing part of the sail. At one point
the GPS registered us doing 9.1 knots.
It was not our top speed for the day.
The boats generally weren’t built to
go much over 5 knots. We arrived in
front of Funjovi with flat water and
high winds flying like the fish we were
the day before without the swells.
Crossing over the reef on the west
side of the island we came to rest in
behind. We would have company that
night as several other teams made it to
the island from the mainland. Several
teams did not survive the departure
earlier that day and would be up to
two days repairing damage to their
boats. We were now spending the
night on an island with a local fishing
camp. We enjoyed a communal fish fry
and the most beautiful stars yet. We
also enjoyed another night of moving
the boat so the tides wouldn’t be a
problem.
And So on.
The following days were ones filled
with holes and wind. Finding fresh
water to drink became a problem. We
slept in the boat a couple of nights
to avoid snakes and tides. The GPS
died without warning. The tracker
succumbed to moisture and would
2016 LAUNCH
no longer charge. Three days went
by without seeing other teams or the
committee boat. With a compass duct
taped to the aft spar we continued on.
We barely ate, we barely drank water.
We relied on beef jerky, bee stingers,
Kate’s cookies, and a lot of Emergen-C
flavoured water to get through the
days. Dinners were sidekicks and rum.
Just enough rum to give us a moment
of peace and tranquility. The stars in
the night sky continued to be the most
beautiful stars imaginable. Every single
day was filled with the most beautiful
sailing imaginable. The day the GPS
died we were following a heading
forty degrees off what it should have
been. That mistake allowed us to avoid
a reef that may or may not have been
a problem for us. (that discussion will
always be lively and involve wildly,
differing opinions). Our strategy was
simple. Sail in as straight a line as
possible, travel the shortest distance
possible and don’t capsize.
The final day of racing was the
best and worst day of all. We ended
up travelling 60 miles that day. twelve
full hours on the water. We were
exhausted and had the aid of some
charts not intended for navigation,
a compass and our own knowledge.
Twice we were redirected by
fishermen we would come across in
the middle of nowhere. We arrived at
Songa Songa before 1:00pm. It was
too early to stop. Our objective on this
day was to now make it to the finish.
Without the gps we could only go
from memory. Songs Songa to Kilwa
Masoka was somewhere around 25
miles away in all open water. We did
not achieve that goal. We landed on
lighthouse point near the finish but
not near enough. We had travelled
blindly for four hours without seeing
Say you saw it in GAM
land. The sun was diminishing as we
tried to remember how many miles
we should have been needing to travel.
The wind increased and so did the
waves and we prepared for having to
try and sail the ngalawa in the dark.
Out of nowhere we first saw the birds.
Then we saw the tidal debris. Relieved
we were finally close to land, we
began looking in earnest for any sign
of land and the milestones we would
need to travel to the finish under a
darkening sky. Through a comedy of
errors we ended up at lighthouse point
stuck until high tide due to come in at
3:00am. So close and yet so far. Dinner
was rum. We were asleep by 7:30pm.
3:00am is much earlier than 4:30am
The Finish
To get away from Lighthouse Point,
we would be required to jump over
a sand bar and through a reverse
breakwater. The timing for the sandbar
was 3:00am or wait another day. As
the tide rose Mark continuously moved
the ngalawa starting at 1:00am. By
3:00am we were all on board and
drifting lazily across the sandbar. No
sail could be set. No paddles were
required. We drifted and waited for
the sun to rise. With the sails finally
set at 6:00am, we headed for the
breakwater not really being able to
judge how far away it was. All of a
sudden, we were headed through it.
We took on a boat full of water but
finally had an unencumbered sail to
the finish.
Five dolphins joined us as the sun
came up. They stayed with us to the
mouth of the harbour. With the tide
going out and very little wind, we
paddled against the current at the
mouth. It took three tries to finally
enter the harbour. Regardless of how
hard we paddled, we kept getting
pushed back out. We were tired,
hungry, and thirsty. At the same
time we were alive and invigorated.
The idea of the finish allowed us to
overcome all. The wind came up and
we were sailing again. In the wrong
direction. The finish was directly
upwind. It would be that place that
we couldn’t get to. In cruising world
it was that place that you just decided
Say you saw it in GAM you wouldn’t go since it was too
much trouble. We had no choice. We
chicken gybed our hearts out for the
next hour. At one point, we sailed in
to the shallows of the mangroves, used
our paddles as pitch poles, jumped
into the ocean and manually brought
the ngalawa around completing a
perfect gybe in that we didn’t lose
any ground. On another gybe, we
found ourselves sailing through what
appeared to be the ngalawa version of
our Optis at junior club. They moved
out of our way only after they were
certain we weren’t gybing away. They
had no choice. We weren’t gybing any
sooner than we had to. We would not
be altering course and we made that
perfectly clear to them. We were the
crazy tourists trying to sail an African
boat. The discussion following what
would become our final gybe was
amusing. This is a race. The rules are
clear; we have to cross the finish line
with our boat and our teammates.
After 350 miles, ten nights on beaches,
in boats, and a couple of hotel rooms,
we beached our beloved Hermana
de Bella and in “Adventurist” style
-pushed her up the beach about a half
mile and walked across the finish line.
We did it. We actually did it. What
had started out as a crazy idea was now
our new reality. We were ngalawa
sailors of the Ngalawa Cup. Our
skipper Mark, Kate and I had come
third. More importantly, we were
alive. And about to have our first cold
refreshment in five days.
In conclusion.
If you ever feel bored and want a
challenge, we highly recommend this
race. For some it was facing life and
death and the confidence that comes
with that. For us it was affirmation of
who we are. We used all of our sailing
knowledge. We used all of our racing
knowledge. We used every ounce of
our survival skills. Not a moment goes
by, not during the race and not after,
that we didn’t and don’t think of this
opportunity as one of the greatest,
most beautiful opportunities in our
lives. We have now done some of the
most beautiful sailing the world has to
offer and had the foresight during each
2016 LAUNCH
day of the race to revel in the glory of
the wind and the seas, the sun, the
moon and the stars. We have a new
appreciation for all that is usually taken
for granted. We thank Michele Toohey
Reed and Maggy Parsons for providing
us with ground crew support
“extraordinaire.” Even from afar, their
support allowed us to make the very
most of this epic adventure.
Mark Gifford was given the Skipper Award
and invited back to help train the newbies.
Carey will be going with him. Both of them
hope to somehow land on some Ngalawa in
need of skipper or crew in the next running.
21