Another Day at the Races

After Geert left ile de Grace early Friday morning to continue his African adventure, Jon and I set about tending to boat chores that we had gladly ignored in favor of looking at wild animals in game parks.  We made a list that would occupy Saturday and Sunday and allow us to begin thinking about the next leg south.  Loud noises and music coming from the Zululand Yacht Club’s picnic area, however, slowly drew us away from our tasks and toward another group of wild animals, the homo sapiens kind, specifically Afrikaners.

Coal miners raft with fire hose.

Turns out, the ZYC was hosting its second annual charity event on behalf of a local school for children with Autism Spectrum Disorders.  The Canal Raft Challenge encourages local businesses and anyone else who wants to form a team to build “sea worthy” rafts for a race one mile up the canal from the yacht club, underneath a one lane bridge and back again.  Raft building began Friday afternoon and Jon and I decided to check it out.  There were some 25 serious rafts being built by local coal miners, steel workers, women accountants and others.  Boerewors (Afrikaner sausages that are very meaty and somewhat spicy) were on the grill and many beers were being drunk.  Karaoke music was in the background.

Keeping the beer afloat.

What a fun distraction for us transient boat people! We have been warmly welcomed by South Africans as we slowly invade their shores in search of respite from the Indian Ocean, because so many of us have diverted our routes away from Somali pirates in favor of the Cape of Good Hope.  Richards Bay, and the Zululand Yacht Club in particular, have been especially welcoming.  So much so, that six of us allowed ourselves to be gently dragooned into joining the Canal Raft Challenge.  Jon and I entered as Team Gracelanders and named our raft, Graceland.  With our inflatable dinghy dissembled and packed away for this leg of our journey, Jon and I scurried back to our boat trying to figure out how we could make a raft out of our kayak.

Jon's engineering skills pay off.

Actually, we like trying to solve problems and come up with solutions with only the items we have on hand…it’s good practice for ocean voyagers.  Using two boat poles as outriggers, fishing poles as masts, and lots of spectra line, we managed to make a rig that would fly our American yacht ensign and the five semaphore flags that spell G-R-A-C-E.  In about an hour Jon and I had her ready to launch the next morning.

Team Gracelanders

Egg Ammo

The race had some peculiar rules.  The second to last raft to complete the race wins first prize.  Acts of piracy were encouraged and received extra points.  Several inflatable beach balls were pushed out on the water, and points were awarded to the team that returned with said balls in hand. Hostage taking was encouraged, and points awarded for stealing other boats’ emblems.  Pelting opponents with rotten tomatoes, eggs, and water balloons was also encouraged.  Drinking beer during – and before -- the race was considered essential.  We had no rotten veggies on board, I would not part with my eggs, and beer was not an option for Jon and I, so we thought we’d stay on the fringes of hostilities.  Good thinking, as on Saturday morning the pelting began well before the rafts were even launched.  The combative spirit overwhelmed me, however, and I found myself gathering unexploded ordinance from the water around us and sneaking it onto Graceland (mostly tomatoes and water balloons) for subsequent re-launching.  All for a good cause, right?

Pirates from Panache & Canadian Contenders

I inquired the night before during registration about rumors that crocodiles and sharks were in these waters, and was told, “absolutely they are here and they like to eat humans.”  Hmmm.  Our strategy was to keep out of the water and the kayak upright at all costs.   After seeing generator-powered water cannons, potato guns, buckets of tomatoes next to mounted sling shots, and hundreds of eggs loaded up on rafts, I decided not to think about crocs or sharks….wild humans were going to be our biggest threat.

Chaos and mayhem

At 10 AM Saturday, the race was underway, but it was not a clean, clear start.  Once the gun went off, it probably took about 30 minutes for 30 or so rafts to get in the water and paddle the 50 meters into the canal.  There were too many eggs and tomatoes to be thrown first.  Plus, no hurry because the second to last finisher won.  It was quite a spectacle, and we cruisers managed to make a good show for ourselves, as we slowly moved toward the bridge and our turn around point.  We managed to retrieve tomatoes and water balloons fairly easily and hurl them back.  The chaos of the race was enhanced by paddle surfers who swarmed in and out of the rafts, wrecking havoc wherever they could.

The War Zone

Young War Zone recruits

Ahhh, the kind Afrikaners who had gently dragooned us into this race, and had even warned us about the pelting with eggs, tomatoes and water balloons, had said not a word about the soon-to-be experienced “War Zone,” which was located at the one-lane bridge where we were to turn around.  Spectators could purchase (all for a good cause) bags of water balloons and tomatoes and stand along the one lane bridge and pelt us sorry rafters as we went under the bridge to turn around at a buoy and then pelt us again as we headed back for the last half of the “race.”  

Defense from the gauntlet.

It was a gauntlet that had to be run – run twice, in fact! -- and run it we did, all for a good cause. Some were better prepared than we were and launched counter attacks into the War Zone.  Jon and I just tried to get through as quickly as possible, but were both pelted pretty good by some very accurate and frighteningly focused children.

Getting pelted.

As Jon and I ran the gauntlet a second time and were heading back to finish, the wind picked up.  Coupled with a strong counter current as the tide shifted, we had to paddle hard just to keep from being blown backward.  A strategic decision was made to paddle to our boat and not finish the race.  We were not alone.  The sea rescue boat and the marine police had to tow a number of rafts back.  In all, the two-mile race took about 4 hours.  The rafts that did make it back were worse for the wear, but a winner was declared, and fortunately no one drowned.  Our fellow cruisers on Peli-Rose completed the race, winning the “Biggest Sucker” consolation prize, rewarding them for the folly of joining the race!

Peri-Rose, an Aussie-Kiwi Combination

Dutch oven cooking.

Three winners were declared in the Karaoke contest:  an Afrikaner accented version of Johnny Cash’s “Sunday Morning Sidewalk,” a take on Kenny Rogers’ “Coward of the County,” and a young lady doing a pop song.   Dutch oven cooking contests enabled us to sample some traditional Afrikaner food.  We did not stick around for the wet T-shirt contest or beauty contest, but they were having a hard time rounding up contestants anyway.  The beer-drinking contest was also done for a good cause.

All in all, it was another fun day at the races.  Sunday became a day of much needed rest and recovery and the boat tasks got put off until Monday.  But it was all for a good cause.

G-R-A-C-E in signal flags, and the flag flying!