Rounding the Horn

"No--not the Horn!"

The passage between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans at Cape Horn in South America is one of the most dangerous in the world. Giant waves, fierce winds, and strong currents were the precipitous cause of wind-driven schooners foundering on coastal rocks.

The danger to ships using the Magellan Strait, between Antarctica and southern Tierra del Fuego, was immortalized in literature and film. In one of the three Mutiny on the Bounty movies, Captain Bligh informed the crew he planned to sail the Bounty around Cape Horn. A seaman yelled out, “No. Not the Horn!” Shortly after, the crew mutinied. The rest, as they say, is history. It has been estimated that about eight-hundred vessels venturing around the Cape ended shipwrecked.

On a cruise from Buenos Aires, Argentina, to Valparaiso, Chile, my wife, Esther, and I eagerly anticipated rounding the Horn. Entering the inland channel in Chilean waters, the ship’s captain turned over the wheel to an experienced local pilot who would guide us through.

At this point, Esther, determined to fully participate in the event, donned layers of clothing, a scarf, and a hat and went out into the weather. She anchored herself to a rail as prevailing winds blew at speeds up to ninety miles per hour. One gust blew out the window on a bulkhead door. Within a half-hour, the conditions changed from rain to snow to sleet to hail; from dark, brooding skies to bright. When things calmed down, she returned to the cabin with chilly cheeks and the satisfaction that she had successfully faced down Cape Horn. At breakfast the next morning, everyone received a certificate stating they had rounded the Horn. In the old days, sailors who accomplished the feat were entitled to wear a gold loop earing and could dine with one foot on the table. Had she known, Esther might have worn the earring. I’m grateful she didn’t know about the foot on the table. That might not have gone well at formal night dinner.

Although the power of modern ships offers security in the turbulent waters of the strait, the force of the wind and the height of the waves cause cargo ship captains to choose the Panama Canal instead. Most tourists on cruise ships appreciate the sense of adventure in making the fabled, historic journey. However, not everyone. I’ve met cruisers who avoid the Horn. I can’t say I blame them. Rough weather at sea can be nerve-wracking and hard on the stomach. Isn’t that why ginger candy, Dramamine, and lifeboats are always available?

What was it like for seamen sailing on a two-masted brigantine in the midst of heavy conditions at Cape Horn? Richard Henry Dana, Jr., in Two Years Before the Mast, gives us a first-hand account:

"Here comes Cape Horn!" said the chief mate; and we had hardly time to haul down and clew up, before it was upon us. In a few moments, a heavier sea was raised than I had ever seen before, and as it was directly ahead, the little brig, which was no better than a bathing machine, plunged into it, and all the forward part of her was under water; the sea pouring in through the bow-ports and hawse-hole and over the knightheads, threatening to wash everything overboard. In the lee scuppers it was up to a man's waist. We sprang aloft and double reefed the topsails, and furled all the other sails, and made all snug. But this would not do; the brig was laboring and straining against the head sea, and the gale was growing worse and worse. At the same time sleet and hail were driving with all fury against us.

Mr. Dana, Jr. managed to make it through the ordeal and lived to write about it. In my opinion, he was entitled to wear all the gold loop earrings he desired. If you want to emulate his adventure, try sailing around Cape Horn. If you’re sanely risk-averse, try reading the book. Either one is exciting.