Extreme test for Durban sailor’s Vasco da Gama quest

On October 10, 2017, Durban was bludgeoned by a storm that ripped ships off their harbour moorings, sunk boats in the Marina and devastated wide areas around the city. Durban diver and sailor Neville Bransby was testing his and his Shearwater 39’s readiness for the Vasco da Gama race and single handedly came out the other side. This is an edited extract from his latest book, My Vasco da Gama Quest.

“As most South Africans know, Durban was devastated by storms, big wind and flooding yesterday and one man, Neville Bransby, bore the brunt of it single handed aboard his Shearwater 39 called Ocean Spirit.” Richard Crockett, editor of SA Sailing magazine

With the sinking of the Rubicon during the fateful 1984 Vasco da Gama yacht race and the tragic loss of her entire crew on my mind, I had to prepare my boat for a worst-case scenario.

She was a cruising boat, heavier and slower than the lighter racing yachts and was likely to cope better than them in a gale if I prepared her properly.

As luck would have it a coastal low was predicted later that morning, with a very strong wind, commonly referred to among the yachting fraternity as a “Westerly Buster”.

Perfect! I would go out and wait for it. I got my boat ready, reducing the sail area by putting three reefs in the main sail and hoisting the small, heavy duty storm jib, just to be on the safe side.

Crockett: “Knowing that there was inclement weather coming, Bransby, who likes sailing single handed, decided to go sailing and test himself and his boat in some strong conditions… Just how strong and how bad the conditions were revealed as the storm hit.”

Looking south towards Anstey’s Beach on the Bluff, I could see a low line of rolling clouds approaching fast.

Here it comes: I was prepared, life jacket on, EPIRB (Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon) and life raft checked. I was ready for it, or so I thought!

Within minutes the line squall was overhead and a sudden blast of wind hit me. The yacht was literally blown flat, water pouring over the submerged gunwale, filling the cockpit. For an awful moment I pictured my boat sinking but fortunately I had fitted the washboards which prevented the water from going down the companionway and into the boat.

I had never experienced wind that powerful before: it was blowing so hard that I couldn’t keep my eyes open and look directly into it. The spray was coming at me horizontally, stinging my skin, it was too painful.

The sea was now white with foam, the crests of the waves blown off as they reared up, getting bigger by the minute.

I made my way forward to the mast hanging onto the grab rails on the cabin top to prevent myself slipping into the water. I had to get the sails down fast before they shredded and blew out. The sound of the wildly flogging sails was deafening. This job would have been difficult with a fully crewed yacht but I was on my own so it was going to take a bit longer. After a few attempts and bleeding knuckles, I managed to get the sails down and stowed and the boat righted itself.

Back in the cockpit in the shelter of the dodger (a canvas spray hood that covers the companionway), I took stock of things as the boat was blown towards the ships at outer anchorage. I phoned my friend Rob Bowman at the marina on my cell phone and told him not to worry and that I was OK. I started the engine opposite the mouth of the Umgeni River but the boat could make no headway against the wind.

I found that I could make slow progress if I angled the boat off to port then to starboard, as if I was tacking. At least the boat was going forward.

Looking ahead towards the harbour mouth I saw a huge container ship lying sideways between the piers, blocking the entrance. That didn’t look good. I radioed the control tower asking for permission to enter the port and the answer came, “Where are you?”

I explained that I was out of sight on the other side of the ship and needed to come into port. I was warned to keep clear of the five tugs that were on the other side of the ship trying to push the ship straight.

I managed to find a narrow gap between the ship’s bulbous bow and the edge of the channel close to the South Pier and managed to squeeze through with a few feet of clearance under my keel and headed towards the marina.

I wasn’t expecting the scene that confronted me on my arrival. The floating jetties were broken apart, the anchors pulled out of the mud by the force of the wind against the hundreds of boats moored up against the pontoons. I couldn’t recognise the place: boats, fingers and spines of the floating walk-ons all jumbled together, many damaged and several sunk. My berth was missing, the pontoon had sunk to the bottom, dragging a catamaran down with it, one of the hulls protruding above the water.

I motored past the carnage and jumped overboard, rope in hand and secured my boat to a pontoon at the international jetty, safe at last.

I had been offshore in that gale on my own and my boat was undamaged apart from the wind instrument that was blown off the top of the mast. Fortune was on my side that day, as my boat could so easily have been sunk alongside the catamaran had I not been out at sea that morning.

At the height of the gale two other ships had also been blown off their moorings and run aground on a sand bank at Island View. They were later pulled off by tugs.

I read a report a few days later that the wind had peaked at 110 knots (more than 200km/h), the strongest since records first started more than 100 years ago.

My boat and I had been put to the test and come out of it unscathed.

Crocket: “Bransby copped flak from some quarters, as his act of going to sea to test his boat was described as irresponsible. He was naturally upset by these comments as he feels he knew his limitations and his boat, and never felt threatened or overwhelmed by the conditions in any way and is much richer for the experience. In fact, in my view he acted responsibly by wanting to test himself, his boat and his gear in tough conditions – conditions that no one knew would deteriorate to the extent they did so quickly.

“Bransby later went on to win line honours in the 2022 and 2023 Vasco da Gama races from Durban to East London and winning line honours in the first double-handed yacht race in 2024 in his latest 40-foot racing yacht ‘Regardless’.

“At the ripe old age of 74 he shows no signs of slowing down and has his sights firmly set on winning more ‘silver’ in the 2025 race.”