Stage 2 – Thursday Island to Cocos-Keeling Atoll
Posted by Graham Cox
As the leading boats made landfall on Cocos-Keeling this week, after a fast run from Thursday Island, it became possible to make a direct comparison between the performance of these 580s, in trade wind passagemaking mode, against that of John Guzzwell aboard TREKKA, who sailed this same leg in 1958.
There are qualifications of course, because the weather is different every year for one thing, and because John Guzzwell had no access to weather information. He just sailed the rhumb line course and took what came his way. You’d have to match-race TREKKA against Renaud Stitelmann’s CAPUCINETTE in a best-of-three regatta or something, to say which design is fastest. (I reckon John Guzzwell and Renaud Stitelmann would be an equal match when it came to getting the most out of their boats.) But still, it is instructive.
So far, no 580 has come close to matching TREKKA’s 192 miles over the course of 25 hours (John set his clock back an hour that day), while west of the Galapagos, hammering along in the SE trades, current-assisted, of course, but then so are the recorded daily runs of the 580s, since they carry no log (device to measure speed through the water, as opposed to speed over the ground, which is what GPS positions and sextant sights give you). The day before TREKKA’s record run, John made good 175 miles.
Prior to that, TREKKA’s fastest 24-hour distance run was 155 miles off the coast of Madagascar. On the leg from TI to Cocos, TREKKA had the misfortune to drift along in calms for 20 days after leaving TI, not having access to weather information from websites like WINDY. Once he did come into the breeze (with a bang, as a front rolled over), Trekka took off for the last 8 days of their passage, covering 910 miles in a week. His fastest day saw TREKKA cover 146 miles over the ground. TREKKA took 28 days to complete the passage, for a recorded distance of 2,800 nautical miles, giving an average of 100 miles a day, despite the prolonged period of calms.
Renaud averaged 135 miles a day between Vuda Marina, Fiji and Cocos (Keeling) Atoll, a distance of 5000 miles, and Dan, Keri and Pilar’s averages have not been much less, but the game is not over yet. Next up, the 2000-mile passage to Rodrigues Island, then a further 500 to Mauritius, offers another opportunity to compare performances, and TREKKA did quite well on that leg, without the lottery of calms to contend with.
So far, it is fair to say that the 580 is sailing consistently faster over the long haul. How much of this is down to boat design, or the advantages of satellite communications to access weather information, is impossible to quantify. As for the skippers, they are obviously extremely competitive, but then so was John Guzzwell in his later years, aboard his 30-footer, ENDANGERED SPECIES.
Once the breeze filled in off Timor, the lead boats streaked away, with winds building as they approached Cocos. Renaud was a little apprehensive as he approached the atoll, recording winds of 40 knots, and with waves sweeping over the deck. He posted: ‘For sure, measuring with my Deuta (handheld anemometer) while standing up in cockpit – 40kts – don’t know how to enter COCOS tomorrow? – Only 2/3 of jib. Main down. Apparent wind at bearing of 180° (due South). Waves over the deck. They say that’s fun!’
Nonetheless, he made it safely into the lagoon at Cocos on 06 September, after a passage of 21 days, once again taking 1st place for this stage of Leg 3. His video of the anchorage showed a lively chop, as CAPUCINETTE was a bit far out to get maximum benefit from the lee of crescent-shaped Direction Island, plus the wind still had more of a southerly slant compared to regular trade winds, and was blowing in across the barrier reef to the island’s south. The aquamarine colours of the lagoon looked wonderful, and no doubt Renaud was relieved to be out of the tumult.
Next in was Dan on IMMORTAL GAME. He had kept the pressure up all the way, nipping at CAPUCINETTE’s heels, but felt disappointed that he could not shorten the distance of 50 miles between them. On 05 September, he wrote, ‘Spending some time today getting the boat squared away for likely strong winds this evening and tomorrow. Due to finish at Cocos Keeling in potentially 30+ knots and 4m waves tomorrow evening, which should keep me on my toes!
‘In other news, I was hoping to catch a fish before the winds picked up, but the reel unfortunately broke when I went to cast the line. No more fishing now until I get a new one, unfortunately. Good spirits onboard though, as I’ve managed to get a good amount of sleep last night, so am ready for the final push to finish line.’
Later, he wrote, ‘Wind has come in with force now, at a solid 30+ knots. Seem to have the boat relatively settled for now, with 3 reefs in the mainsail and a partially-furled headsail. Also have a 43m super-yacht nearby that I’ve been trying to race, but I seem to be losing that battle pretty quickly now that the breeze is in.’
The next morning, he wrote, ‘What a night! 35-40 knots on the beam with a large confused sea. Had waves break over the deck that filled up the cockpit on multiple occasions, and came off a couple (of waves) that didn’t have a back to them. No sleep until this morning, when the wind moved aft of beam. It is currently much more manageable, around 25-30 knots. The super yacht, LEGEND, was kind enough to come over and have a chat on the radio, checking that I was doing ok, probably wondering what on earth I’m doing out here.
‘I’m currently 75 miles from the islands, which is likely to be a challenging entry in the conditions, but I am looking forward to getting in for a feed and a rum!
On 07 September, he wrote, ‘A windy, challenging entry to Cocos Keeling; however, I have arrived safely and am now at anchor! I thought I had done a good job weaving between boats and reefs whilst constantly getting pushed off-course by gusts. That was until I dropped the anchor, and the head of the mainsail caught the breeze, threw the boat around, and caught the anchor warp around the keel.
‘Because it was blowing so hard, I couldn’t manoeuvre the boat at all, and was stuck side-on to the waves and wind. Thankfully Renaud was nearby, and upwind, so he let out his anchor enough to get close, threw me a rope, and from there we could drag the boat around. Legend! It’s been a tough 30 hours or so and the nerves are a bit shot, so time for a feed and a rum!’
Australian Customs kindly gave him a pass that night to have dinner with Renaud and a French cruising family aboard their yacht. The next day, after he had cleared Customs, they all went ashore and had a barbeque on the beach.
Keri was the 3rd to arrive, coming through the pass in the transition between night and dawn, with a nearly full moon that gave him reasonable visibility. He could clearly see the patches of coral on the seabed. It was windy, and he carried the full jib, not having a jib furler, though he opened the slot (set the clew of the jib to leeward, while keeping the leach tight and the luff flat), courtesy of his 3D sheeting system, which helped depower it, plus three reefs in the mainsail. ORIGAMI was sailing at around 4.75 knots to windward, tacking frequently. Keri has a method that helps the jib to pass around the babystay with relatively ease, so he can tack without difficulty in close quarters.
ORIGAMI was pitching and yawing like crazy in the anchorage off of Direction Island when Keri phoned this scribe, due to him being anchored a bit far out, where his exposure to the SSE gale was more pronounced. As a consequence, his Starlink unit occasionally lost its connection. Starlink, despite its advantages for communications at sea or remote places, does not seem to like too much sudden movement.
With normal SE trade winds, yachts are relatively sheltered here, but with the wind having more of a southerly slant, it was blowing directly across the reef that runs down to Main Island (past The Rip), and the yachts in the lee of Direction Island were more exposed than usual.
Keri said that the holding ground was good, with crystal-clear water over white sand, which reduced the danger of snagging coral heads, so anchoring was straightforward. The reef dampened down the ocean swell, and ORIGAMI was only affected by wind waves, even though the latter were nasty. The Rocna anchor was, as ever, holding superbly. Keri could probably have managed marginally-better shelter by tucking closer in, but ORIGAMI was conveniently situated adjacent a beautiful beach at the northern end of the island.
How he ended up in that particular spot makes an interesting story. Having mislaid the update advising that the finish line had been changed to a latitude near the entrance, (he says it would be easier if each update had a unique title for filing purposes), he sailed further south into the lagoon than necessary, then sailed back under just the triple-reefed mainsail. ORIGAMI was making quite a lot of leeway, so Keri anchored in the spot he fetched up in, at the northern end of Direction Island, rather than tack inshore. He likes a bit of space anyway!
He did not go ashore after clearing Customs, as he was uncertain if his little inflatable dinghy was up to the job, given how windy the day was, and the nasty chop. He inflated and launched it, but it was twirling on its painter like an inflatable toy, flipping numerous times. It brought back memories of inflatable surf toys during childhood days at the beach. He didn’t fancy a night sleeping on the beach, although he can easily swim ashore from where he is anchored. To make that more enticing, the water is so clear that you can just about see every grain of sand on the bottom of the lagoon.
He had a fairly wild ride across to Cocos from Timor, holding onto 3rd place, though he suffered a self-imposed penalty in the earlier calms, by refusing to use his outboard motor. As a result, his direct competition gained 30 miles over him. (On 24 August, ORIGAMI was the leading boat.) This disillusioned him somewhat. Combined with news that his mother was gravely ill, it led to him losing his competitive drive. He even considered retiring from the race briefly, but decided not to after talking to Adam Waugh and Niels Kamphuis. (Niels is the much-loved Dutch veteran of the 2025 Globe 580 Transat race, aboard BIGGEST MONKEY.)
Consequentially, he positioned ORIGAMI further south, clear of Indonesian fishing boats, giving himself some quiet time for a bit of reflection, barely used his spinnakers, and sailed the boat at around 60% of its capability for much of the time, letting the Aries windvane unit steer.
He did a lot of reading, singling out American satirist, Kurt Vonnegut (if he can’t make you laugh, nobody will), and an excellent biography of Matthew Flinders by eminent Australian biographer, Grantlee Kieza, which he found inspiring. He spent time thinking about writing an illustrated children’s book about Flinders and his cat, Trim, which is an engaging story for young and old.
He acknowledges that both Renaud and Dan seem to be able to coax a few extra miles from their boats when the wind is piping from astern, but feels he has the edge with the wind forward of the beam. ORIGAMI may therefore do better in upcoming stages of Leg 3 to Cape Town.
So far, his view of the Indian Ocean is that it is awful, his least favorite passage so far, for a number of reasons. One reason was possibly because of his reflective state, while another was the level of pollution he encountered. Every 30-40 seconds, he passed a piece of plastic in the water, just below the surface, but close enough to catch his eye. Even though the water was clear and clean, and there were flying fish and dolphins around, it was just plastic, plastic, plastic. There were no turtles.
A reasonably-sized swell from the south, meeting the dominant swell from the east, caused the seas to pile up, and he realised that this was going to be quite interesting when the breeze picked up. When it did, he went very quickly from having quite a lot of sail-area up to a triple-reefed mainsail and the jib.
Within about an hour and a half of the wind socking in, the seas grew to probably about 4-5m high. “It’s difficult to judge wave height at sea,” he said, “but they were breaking; not badly, because the wind-strength was only about 30 knots, so it wasn’t desperate.” Some of the pyramidical waves must have been up to 8m.
Nonetheless, the days of cruising along at 60% were over, as he had to drive the boat hard to maintain control. There seemed to be some adverse current at times, which steepened the seas up. With the swell on the beam, he had some concern about broaching and maybe being rolled over.
He added, “Luckily, I still had enough response to the helm. For some of the breaking seas, I had to luff quite violently, just as I got to the top, so I didn’t get rolled over. And others, I could just drop down and bear away, and go for a bit of a wild ride. And that carried on for two days.” He knew the wind was forecast to swing more to the south, which it later did, allowing him to fall off towards Cocos as he approached the islands. The seas eased into long hillocks as he closed with the land, turning a wild ride into an exhilarating one.
ORIGAMI handled the conditions well, though took a bit of a battering. When Keri got too uncomfortable out in the cockpit, he retreated to the cabin and left the Aries to do the work. Then he didn’t have to look too much at the waves coming up behind the boat – an age-old strategy employed by even the bravest solo sailors.
At times, Keri was running with the wind 160-170° off the bow, with the jib poled out to windward, and the storm jib, slightly over-sheeted to help ORIGAMI resist rounding up, set on the babystay to leeward. He assisted the boat by keeping his weight to windward. He now reflects that he should have tilted the vane of the Aries back, to reduce oversteering. Sometimes, ORIGAMI bore wildly off down a wave, hitting 12-13 knots, though the boat never gybed inadvertently. Nor did it broach, so Keri’s finely-tuned balancing act seems to have worked.
He concluded, “I was lucky, really, I only had two days of it, unlike Pilar. You get so desperately tired in this sort of weather. I see she’s anchored just by the entrance there. I think she’s anchored. Maybe she’s trying to come in on her outboard and not making any progress.”
Later, with assistance from the water police, Keri went out and helped Pilar untangle her anchor warp from around PETER PUNK’s keel, and bring the boat into shelter behind Direction Island. Because of Pilar’s predicament, she was only able to send a brief message describing the situation.
Adam was flying along with a good steady breeze on 07 September, and he was glad the that wind was forecast to last all the way, as he was keen to get in. Possibly because the anchorage at Thursday Island had been less than restful, it felt like he had not really had a break since leaving Fiji, and he was passage-weary.
Another reason he was weary was the need to constantly be on the lookout for fishing boats in the Timor Sea, plus he crossed two or three busy shipping lanes for cargo ships going into Indonesia. The fishing boats carried lights (the ones he could see, ha ha), but had no AIS, meaning that you just had to watch out for them. It was very busy for about a week, but Adam said it had been quiet since then.
Also, there was no sort of defined swell most of the time, just confused waves, which was tiring, though he stressed it was not too bad, and less uncomfortable than it had been earlier. He was currently sailing under full jib and double-reefed mainsail, trying to save his A7, because it was looking a little sea-worn, but for the previous 40 hours LITTLE WREN had three reefs in the mainsail, and the jib had been half-rolled up.
“If you’ve got a little bit too much jib out,” he said, “the boat rounds up, and I get terrible vibration on the forestay. I don’t want to tighten the sheet more, so reefing the sail is the best option. Once you get it right, it seems to be fine, but it’s not very comfortable sitting in the cockpit at the moment – you get tossed around. When sitting or lying down in the cabin, the movement is not too bad, but getting around the boat is difficult.”
The South Atlantic windvane has been coping well with the conditions, which is a good thing, since it was sometimes very wet on deck. “It comes and goes. There was a time when, about every two or three hours, I would get a big dump in the cockpit from a breaking wave on the side. That seems to have eased a little, just getting a bit of spray now.”
Sleep is sometimes difficult. “I’m probably a little bit exhausted, but I don’t feel in any way concerned about that. It’s a pretty sedentary existence when you’re lying down most of the time, so even though I’m not sleeping, I’m resting, so that seems fine.”
He was frustrated that he just missed out on the weather window that sped the leading four boats on their way to Cocos, despite also taking the bold move to dive north early. “I left a day later than Pilar (on PETER PUNK), and just missed the weather window by a few hours, and then had to start tacking, so that added an extra two days to my passage.”
He is still cooking regular meals. “I tend to fry some onion and garlic, and then add corned mutton or beef (Churchill’s chicken, they called it during WWII), with some vegetables.” He has not redeveloped an appetite for tinned sardines. His methylated-spirit stove is well-gimballed, and he fries up his meals in a deep skillet. “I’m not saying there hasn’t been a little bit of stuff on the floor occasionally. I quite enjoy cooking; it gives a focus to the end of the day.” He carries about 12L of methylated spirits on passage, and uses around 1L every 10-12 days.
He says he has written a strongly-worded letter to Mr Cadbury, having bought some Ovaltine for this leg, only to find the whole thing go solid. He put it in a plastic bag and bashed it with his boathook until it broke up into little lumps, then resumed his nightly treat of a cup of steaming hot, chocolate milk.
Asked what he did to occupy his mind when lying in the cabin for long periods, he chuckled and said, “It becomes more and more difficult as every day goes on. I’ve gone through lots of audiobooks, including
John Steinbeck’s East of Eden, which is quite a thing to listen to. That was very, very provoking. I don’t tend to read books, but I can manage to listen to them. I’ve read all my audiobooks now and am looking for suggestions.”
He said that LITTLE WREN was standing up well. “I haven’t had any real concerns. I’m just getting some wear and tear on my asymmetric sails now, which I’m going to have a good look at, perhaps in Mauritius or Durban to try and get some repairs. I found that the lazy sheet for my A5 has been rubbing on the bottom of my A7 from time to time, and therefore I’ve got a little bit of chafe on the foot of the A7. It’s well-reinforced, but has to last me until back to Antigua, so I need to keep an eye on that.” He is holding consistently onto 5th place.
Late on the afternoon of 09 September, Kerry Waugh, Adam’s partner and manager, posted, ‘Adam reports an ETA to Cocos Keeling of approximately 36 hours. Winds (25 kt, gusting 30) and sea state (3 m) have picked up, but nothing that LITTLE WREN and her skipper can’t handle.’ Adam was flying his twin jibs and the boat was tracking well.
Christian, in 7th place (Jakub’s BIBI sits between LITTLE WREN and ARGO), was delighted to be sailing well after the long calms in the Arafura and Timor Seas, where he spent too much time beating back and forth fruitlessly. He even tried to use his outboard motor occasionally, without much success. He was a bit frustrated that, despite sailing hard since the wind returned, he was not able to close the gap with Adam and Jakub.
Neither, in order of their placings, had Eric (SUNBEAR), Jasmine (NUMBATOU), Ertan (TREKKA), or Josh (SKOOKUM), been able to sneak up on ARGO. Once the wind kicked in, the boats in the rear group have maintained the same distance relative to each other. Ertan may spend most of his time watching the Grand Prix on Starlink (so he says), but TREKKA keeps up the pace.
Christian also reported an uncomfortable sea-state, with a cross-sea coming up from the south, giving ARGO a lively motion, and throwing him around the cabin below. He was sailing under jib and double-reefed mainsail, which seemed to aid stability, with the wind on the beam, and also had both daggerboards down. Sometimes he hand-steered to help the boat along, but often it was too miserable on deck to stay up there long. The day before, it rained all day, and after two hours on the helm he was soaked. Tying to keep ARGO dry below took precedence over performance, and he retreated below.
ARGO was crossing the longitude of Christmas Island, with about 500 miles to Cocos, on Monday, and Christian was hoping to maintain his current speed, which would allow him to make a daylight arrival in around 4 days. He has a tradition of arriving at night.
He had a strange incident with a couple of fishing boat several nights earlier. He came on deck for a routine check and found two vessels, one with a blue, flashing light, plus another with red and green nav lights, ahead of ARGO’s bow. The second vessel seemed to be on a collision course. “I know that blue lights are not very visible, so I said it might be really close already. Usually, the minimum strength of navigation lights gives them a range of two miles, but turned out these boats were much closer. There was a little bit of moonlight, and I could just see the shadow of their hulls.”
ARGO was carrying the A3, full mainsail with a preventer on the boom, and jib. Unable to round up, Christian bore away changing course by 90°, and went downwind of the vessels. They were so close, about 50m off, that he could see people walking around on deck. Neither vessel had an active AIS system or radar, so that if Christian had not come on deck for his regular scan of the horizon, there would likely have been a collision.
There was another night where he encountered about 50 fishing boats. He didn’t get any sleep that night, because it was very difficult to go through them. ARGO was sailing downwind with two sails poled out, and it would have taken too much time to suddenly change course. About four times that night, he had to alter course to avoid one, but was able to do so with small course adjustments, since he sighted them early enough. Only two of the boats showed up on Christian’s AIS unit.
The odd thing is that during the day he never saw any boats! Of course, it is easy to see their lights at night, whereas during the day they might be invisible until up close. They often seem to be painted in colours that blend with the horizon. He had to get some sleep, though, so chose to do so during daylight hours.
ARGO is in good shape, apart from one sheet that is badly worn, and Christian is keeping an eye on his halyards and sheets for chafe. More troublesome are the birds that poop on everything, though one amused Christian by its antics, trying to land on the ever-moving windvane of his self-steering gear. Luckily, it always fell off before the flattened windvane could dramatically alter ARGO’s course.
Overcast skies and rain had reduced his solar panels’ output, and he was conserving electrical power. He was avoiding using cabin lights, and switched everything else off when possible. He was still unable to charge up the outboard motor’s battery, after his futile attempt to make progress in the headwinds during the previous week. He had only used one, so still had the other for motoring into Cocos if required, though hoped to charge up the flat one. He needed three sunny days to do so, but, because ARGO’s course is due-West, the solar panels were in shadow after 1400 local time each day.
Eric had to be reminded via WhatsApp that it was his turn to call, because he thought he’d called the previous Monday, not a fortnight earlier. Time sometimes gets rubbery at sea! He had also been preoccupied with other stuff. He was having a bit of trouble keeping SUNBEAR’s batteries up, because it had been cloudy and overcast the last few days, not to mention the swell knocking the boat about.
“It’s been pretty hectic out here the last couple of days,” he added. “There’s a bit of wind, and quite a bit of swell running, so it’s hard to keep the boat tracking where you want it to go, and still go fast.”
Speaking of fast, it was interesting to see SUNBEAR slipping along nicely under mainsail, poled-out jib and A5 set to leeward, off the coast of Indonesia before the winds filled in with a bang. Eric commented, “I decided to go north eventually, and ended up getting in some nice current along the Indonesian coast, and I’m pretty happy with how it’s all going.
“At the moment, I’m tracking directly for Cocos, but it’s very square.” (I think he might mean the swell, which WINDY shows coming up from the SSW, as the wind is on the quarter.) “You just have to position your boat in the right spot, so you can get the best wind angle to get a comfortable ride. There’s a lot of rolling, with a good 2-3m swell, and about 22 knots of wind. The swell is hitting the boat side-on, so I’ve got the boom preventer on, in case the boat gets knocked off downwind and gybes. If the swell catches SUNBEAR at the wrong time, it can really tip the boat over, it’s quite daunting at times.
“The boat tracks nicely with just the jib poled out to windward opposite the triple-reefed mainsail. It’ll take 22, 25 knots that way and stay on track. Whereas, when you put an A7 up and goose-wing it, it’s not quite as manageable in this rolly stuff. The wind angle is about 110-115°, so at times it’s nearly reaching. To go south, you’ve almost got to beam reach, which is what I try to do during the day, then I can square off at night, to make it easier to sleep.
“But the wind is changing all the time, so sometimes you can run a bit deeper, and I’ve had the A7 up most of the morning today, and I’ve just pulled it in at the moment because it’s getting a bit up there. But all’s well aboard SUNBEAR, we’re not far away now.”
He added, “I’ve got my bridle on my warp, all attached to the stern of the boat, ready to deploy if I need to. There’s been times where it’s getting close. I think I’d just run, if it came to it, reduce sail area right down and deploy the warp for a start. See how that goes. And if it got really bad, I’d put the drogue on. I’ve got about 100m of 14mm line, and a Burke Seabrake drogue, with 2.4m of chain on it.
“The problem at the moment here, is that if I run square, I’m going to be steering 300°, and that’s just way too far off-track, too far north. I want to stay on the rhumb line, or go a bit south during the day and then square off while I’m sleeping at night – try to average around 265°. The current’s sort of going North at the moment, which doesn’t help. So really, I’m in the wrong spot right at the moment. I wish I was a little bit further south.”
Unfortunately, Eric’s Starlink cut out at that moment, so I never did get to ask how his tucker was going, or what he was looking forward to the most when he got ashore on Cocos, a meat pie or a cold beer. As mentioned before, for all of Starlink’s advantages, it has been noticeable that it is still somewhat unreliable when the sea hogs are jumping. (Sea hog = porpoise. They are said, in sailor’s lore, to foretell bad weather by leaping out of the sea more often than usual.)
