Z

               Zeekoe Vlei

                  (A Legend)

The Angel paused; his Heavenly nostrils twitched:

"Do I smell Peace?" he said, and floated down

To view at closer range a place enriched

With such an aura. And so near a Town!

The pelicans looked at him askance: the coot

Were curious (as usual) and the tern

Continued ballet practice to the flute

Of Aeolus. The Angel could discern

No unharmonious vibration. So

he spread his radiant hands above the Vlei.

Prepared perpetual blessing to bestow . . .

The Arums and the Rooikranz heard him say

“Through all vicissitudes that fortune brings”—

(Flamingos flapped . . . a Bul-bul fluffed his notes)

This spot shall be a homing place for wings

(He hadn’t heard of cars and motor-boats.)


                ZEEKOE VLEI  Part 111  The Race

Up and down the cottaged shore

The eager yachts unfold their wings

Flapping to be away once more

Before the Southeast wind that sings.

Around the point come Argosy

And Number Six, to join the flock

That flutter there excitedly

In wait for half past three o’clock.

 

Here they come, with outspread wings

To seek a place on the starting line,

Eager, alive, expectant things,

Impatiently waiting the given sign.

‘How’s the time?’ ‘A minute to go!’

‘Stand by….Over……..(Damn the wind-

When you want a lull it’s sure to blow.)’

‘How’s the time?’  ‘Ten seconds…..watch Spray

She’s always over the line with the gun.’

There’s the signal and we’re away –

Straight down to Lotus Buoy on a run!

‘Up spinnaker!’ and ‘Up centerboard!’

Now waves breaking and low wind crying –

Here’s a sight for the eyes of a lord –

A score of yachts with spinnakers flying!

 

 

 

The whip of the keen wind in our face,

The bellying sails unstudied grace,

Here’s a moment worth living for –

The cool keen thrill of a close-run race!

 

Down to Lotus Buoy in a crowd

(Luff up, Ace wants to pass to weather)

Straining wings and tautened shroud,

Flying before the wind together!

How shall we focus to a point

Running abreast as the boats are now?

But one by one we draw apart

And sweep around Lotus rudder to prow.

 

Now for the long beat up South Bay,

Tacking and tacking to miss the weed.

The Sharpies begin to draw away…..

See, there’s Slipper well in the lead;

And here’s Shingaan on the Starboard tack –

‘Stand by……Over!’  She’s put us about.

We’ll starboard Twenty next lap back

With any luck – no need to shout.

 

 

 

 

 

Flamingo’s past….clear water, and deep…..

A long leg up to Sandhills, all sail

Close-hauled, and sitting well out to keep

The heeling boat from capsizing.  The gale

Is freshening: mischievous white caps ride

The crests of the waves, and the wind laughs too

As a rollicking wave breaks over the side

And drenches the skipper and all the crew.

 

Right round Sandhills…..Corner’s a jibe….

Somebody’s over…. Who is it?... Ace….

‘Any help wanted?...Bad luck……Goodbye…..’

She’ll be alright, and it’s on with the race!

 

Over to Sandhills again, then the run

Straight down to Lotus with spinnakers filling,

Sails gleaming crimson and white in the sun….

Up on a plane now, with white cascades spilling!

There’s white-winged Faith and her swift sister Spray.

That black, pirate- spinnakered craft is Yvonne.

 

 

 

Red wings and white wings, they fly down the Vlei;

And there are the green wings of graceful Shingaan..

Anne and Slipper…..Lotus….and Breeze….

This is the weather for birds like these!

 

‘Take in the spinnaker….Board down….Stand by!

It’s jibe around Lotus, and winds half a gale..

Get ready to leap…Can we do it?....We’ll try!’

A scramble to weather…..across goes the sail:

A moment she quivers, our gallant small craft,

Deck under….the crew throw their full weight to port….

She steadies…The skipper is giving thanks aft- 

‘A near thing!’  Now homeward with all the sheets taut.

It’s beating and tacking the whole of the way

Westwind is home, but her handicap’s plus….

Over the line go more Sharpies, and Spray…

Up rush the Redwings with bow waves a-fuss.

 

Who was the winner and what was our place?

What matter – it was a glorious race!

 

           

 

 

 

 

 

 

© Rosalind Spears 2021