I have had many storms to weather in my sailing career, but there are two that really stick with me.

During the Vendee Globe as I approached Cape Horn, the forecast for the four days leading up to my rounding was looking bad.  All the models were aligning, and the barometer concurred – there was no doubting that the weather was going to hit just as I reached Cape Horn and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Cape Horn is the point where the whole of the Southern Ocean tries to fit through the smallest gap between South America and Antarctica.  It is renowned for being a violent stretch of chaotic water, frequented by icebergs, huge waves and plagued by gale force winds.  A call came in from the Race Director to say I should stop racing and hold for the storm to pass.  This is unheard of in professional racing, but I was not alone as two other competitors were also held back with me in the same location.  We were all given the same information and checked in with each other to make sure we were not hallucinating.

I was in the middle of the low-pressure system at Cape Horn. The wind dropped to just 15 knots, and I took the opportunity to get busy, charging my batteries, putting a deep reef in my mainsail and getting my storm jib up ready for the conditions once I started racing again. I did not heave to or deploy a sea anchor. With small sails up for the conditions I was not travelling very fast and with the sails eased I just pottered along barely moving in the right direction. I ate a hearty meal and waited it out. When I felt ready and the barometer had levelled out, I started moving back into the Atlantic and out of the Southern Ocean. The wind increased to 55 knots which, although sounds a lot, was nothing I had not experienced before, and my boat was prepared for such conditions.  We were informed that the wind speed recorded across Tierra del Fuego, the land mass at Cape Horn, had hit 85 knots. Proof, if it were needed, that pausing to avoid the worst of the weather was the right thing to do in this instance.

Whilst at sea, not all boats have the necessary speed to avoid incoming weather or change course quickly enough to avoid the worst side of a low-pressure system.  Occasionally this means that you have no option but to batten down the hatches and prepare to weather the storm. While in the midst of the worst of the weather, it is important to remember that no storm lasts for ever and eventually it will pass. When fear takes hold, it is worth reminding yourself that you will come out the other side if you have taken all the necessary precautions.

If and when you do get caught, your most immediate problems are likely to be loss of visibility and dealing with high winds. Depending on your location, this may also include rapidly building seas. As with my situation at Cape Horn, how you react and what you should do depends on the size of your boat and the type of body of water you are on.

The second memory was during my voyage round the world against the prevailing winds and currents when I encountered secondary low after secondary low-pressure system. These are severe cells that can really pack a punch and deliver seemingly endless and relentless storms.

I have had many storms to weather in my sailing career, but there are two that really stick with me.

During the Vendee Globe as I approached Cape Horn, the forecast for the four days leading up to my rounding was looking bad.  All the models were aligning, and the barometer concurred – there was no doubting that the weather was going to hit just as I reached Cape Horn and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Cape Horn is the point where the whole of the Southern Ocean tries to fit through the smallest gap between South America and Antarctica.  It is renowned for being a violent stretch of chaotic water, frequented by icebergs, huge waves and plagued by gale force winds.  A call came in from the Race Director to say I should stop racing and hold for the storm to pass.  This is unheard of in professional racing, but I was not alone as two other competitors were also held back with me in the same location.  We were all given the same information and checked in with each other to make sure we were not hallucinating.

I was in the middle of the low-pressure system at Cape Horn. The wind dropped to just 15 knots, and I took the opportunity to get busy, charging my batteries, putting a deep reef in my mainsail and getting my storm jib up ready for the conditions once I started racing again. I did not heave to or deploy a sea anchor. With small sails up for the conditions I was not travelling very fast and with the sails eased I just pottered along barely moving in the right direction. I ate a hearty meal and waited it out. When I felt ready and the barometer had levelled out, I started moving back into the Atlantic and out of the Southern Ocean. The wind increased to 55 knots which, although sounds a lot, was nothing I had not experienced before, and my boat was prepared for such conditions.  We were informed that the wind speed recorded across Tierra del Fuego, the land mass at Cape Horn, had hit 85 knots. Proof, if it were needed, that pausing to avoid the worst of the weather was the right thing to do in this instance.

Whilst at sea, not all boats have the necessary speed to avoid incoming weather or change course quickly enough to avoid the worst side of a low-pressure system.  Occasionally this means that you have no option but to batten down the hatches and prepare to weather the storm. While in the midst of the worst of the weather, it is important to remember that no storm lasts for ever and eventually it will pass. When fear takes hold, it is worth reminding yourself that you will come out the other side if you have taken all the necessary precautions.

If and when you do get caught, your most immediate problems are likely to be loss of visibility and dealing with high winds. Depending on your location, this may also include rapidly building seas. As with my situation at Cape Horn, how you react and what you should do depends on the size of your boat and the type of body of water you are on.

The second memory was during my voyage round the world against the prevailing winds and currents when I encountered secondary low after secondary low-pressure system. These are severe cells that can really pack a punch and deliver seemingly endless and relentless storms.