The seas were angry that day…(said with a Jack Sparrow accent)

We were now about 100 miles away from Cape Horn. The ocean was still pretty deep, so we just had the swells. We were heading north, and the swells were coming in from the west. They would hit us broad-side resulting in some stomach churning yacht movement. The wind had picked up during the night and was now about 27 to 30 knots (roughly 60 km per hr).

By then, we had acquired enough sailing knowledge to begin to understand some of the most basic dangers, squalls being one. For those of you that haven’t seen the movie “White Squall” or aren’t familiar with the term, squalls are small intense storms that quickly blow through. The key words being “intense” and “quick”. If a sailboat is not ready and has all of her sails out, then this “extra wind” can create some problems.

So here we are. The wind is blowing about 30 knots; we have the Genoa and the mail sail out, although both have been “reefed” so that only part of the sail is catching the wind. We were happily sailing along at about 10 knots and as a result of the wind direction and our course, the boat was pretty consistently at 20-30 degree angle. This is a little un-nerving initially, but you get used to it. (That comment came from Ian, I on the other hand challenge you to raise one “side” – not the foot or the head - of your bed 30 degrees and try and sleep on it! Not everyone got used to it).

Ian came on his watch that morning, Todd (another inexperienced sailor) and Cath (one of the owners were already on). Soon after, the wind started to pick up, and so did the waves. By the time Todd’s watch was finished and Darrell (the other owner) started, we were “moving”. Winds had slowly crept up, first past 27 knots, then past 37, and by then had then reached 47 knots. To me, this seemed like a bit of an issue, but our two captains – in their glory - just giggled like two little school girls.

After all (we found out during our trip), they had experienced truly extreme weather conditions many times before, “and this was nothing”. Cath had raced in the famous (infamous?) 1986 Sydney to Hobart race where many yachts sank (and sailors drowned). In fact, Cath and Darrell and the SOS had been caught in a storm east of the Falkland Islands just last year. In the storm, a wave caught them broad-side and “knocked them over”.. Once it righted itself, and they were able to pump out most of the water and complete some temporary repairs, they limped to the Falklands, and after spending US$200,000 they were as good as new.

The last time Ian remembers checking the wind speed, it was 48 knots (about 90 km per hour), then the wind indicator broke….. The swells continued to grow and continued coming from our port side. The “regular swells” aren’t usually a problem though, the boat simply leans first to one side and then the other as it rides the swells . It is the individual “mutant” (I don’t want to use the rogue because that evokes visions of “The Perfect Storm) waves that just happens to be cresting as they reach the boat, that are the problem.

Anyway, while Cath steered, our job was to call out as these larger “mutant” waves came in. Unfortunately, steering while under sail limited her ability to steer directly into the waves which reduces the risk of getting broad-sided. Two or three waves out of seven would be larger than the others and would break right into the stern. Thankfully, the SOS was built for this type of weather, and the accumulation of water would quickly drain away, so we were ready for the next wave.

Unfortunately, we didn’t see “the big wave” in time to turn into it. All I remember is standing there looking up and seeing water. Next thing I know, we are holding on (as well as being tethered on) and what was the side of the boat that I was leaning against was now the floor that I was standing on… and I thought to myself “this can’t be good”.

Andrea was inside the boat at the time, and thankfully the hatch had been closed tight.. “I remember being suddenly flung to the side, the safety netting which had primarily been a wall to my side was suddenly like a hammock beneath me. Everything that wasn’t tied down went flying around the cabin. I looked out the sky-lite across from me and rather than seeing sky, all I could see was water. Hoping that any kind of action would mitigate my fear, I struggled to get up to try and collect things. Then Todd poked his head out of his bunk and respectfully but very firmly said “Andrea get back in your bunk.” I realized that he was right of course, we had no idea what was going to happen next and it was safest for me to return to our bunk until the walls were walls again and we had received an all clear. I was trying not to worry about Ian and what was happening outside because I knew that I couldn’t open that hatch at that moment.

Thankfully, it was only another moment before things became slightly more balanced and I heard excited voices and Ian’s laughter from outside. At that moment I thought that I might just choke him!”

The storm continued, but we stayed upright the rest of the trip. The trick now was to find out where we were so we didn’t run into Cape Horn, which was pretty common in the past.
Two days later (and three days late) an exhausted crew and a somewhat ailing yacht arrived back in Ushuaia under full sail. When the final tally was complete, the auto-pilot, the water maker, the wind indicator, and the outside instruments were all broken. In addition, the rescue and “man-overboard” system had been torn away by the wind and was lost overboard…and worst of all….we were out of beer... Definitly a trip of a lifetime.