Could You Take On The Atlantic Ocean Alone?

Could you take on the atlantic ocean alone? Ed Gorman headed off on a single-handed cruise to madeira to find out just that

- Ed Gorman

It was just before midnight in the eastern fringes of the Atlantic Ocean, about 130 miles south-west of Cape Finisterre. To my right I could see an ominous wall of dense black cloud, switching off the stars as it advanced at sea level towards me.

The waiting game was filling me with dread. “What’s in that thing?” I thought as I furled the genoa, set the Solent staysail and put two reefs in the main. I was on the wind in 20 knots of true wind, but expecting the breeze to veer as a front came through. First, the breeze clocked up to 23, then 25 knots and the sea state turned surprisingly violent. A few minutes later the cockpit display was showing 27 knots and Albertine was charging ahead as I wrestled the third reef into place.

Then the shift came through as if God himself had flicked a switch and the wind increased again. At this point I completely lost my bearings – my windward from my leeward, my port from my starboard – as Albertine’s bow ploughed towards the Portuguese coast. Cue a Chinese gybe, headsail flogging, sheets thrashing. I shouted aloud at my incompetence and took a couple of deep breaths before finally setting her up on a starboard-hand reach.

“I am exhausted, bewildered and very unimpressed with my response. What would I do in 37 knots?” I noted in my journal as we powered south towards Madeira.

The idea of going solo on the ocean had always been a dream for me. As a boy growing up in the 1960s in landlocked Warwickshire I devoured stories about Francis Chichester, Robin Knox-Johnston and Chay Blyth. Then as a journalist with The Times, I covered Ellen MacArthur’s spectacular sailing career and the equally extensive exploits of men like Mike Golding and Francis Joyon.