Volvo Ocean Race: "The nightmare we fear most in our job"

Shortly before or shortly after the rounding of Cape Horn, the teams sent in their comments on this most classic of passages. We are publishing three of them here on behalf of all the others because they sum up the events well, reflect one of the most brutal sections in the history of the Volvo Ocean Race and explain the significance of the Cape Horn Rounding.

By Martin Keruzoré, on-board reporter in the Dongfeng Race Team

Cape Horn - the seafarer's goldsmith

This morning, the horizon made the wise decision to form up. Everyone is on deck to mark the occasion. On the port side, it bears a dark and contrasting chain, adorned with a series of small, beautifully organised mountains and set off by subdued light that welcomes us.

A large, upright and imposing rock appears in front of our bow, higher than the others, the cape. Under large grey clouds, the albatrosses - as always on big occasions - are on hand, flying over us with powerful wing beats, but this time it's goodbye.

The Southern Ocean bids us farewell, a volley of Pacific waves pushes us towards the exit, towards salvation after this hell of a crossing.

It comes closer, it takes on contours, it becomes clearer, the nuances, the relief, Cape Horn is ours, this cape that is entwined with so many stories and marked by victims. It watches us as we pass beneath its nose, without a sign or a sound.

We slip past in silence, the sea becomes calmer, our wake dissipates only slowly, as if to leave a thought of our friend who is here to stay.

This is it. We turn the wheel and set course for home after four months away from you - we're back in the Atlantic.

By Charles Caudrelier, skipper of the Dongfeng Race Team

Cape Horn is done!

Yes, we made it! We passed it after probably one of the toughest sections in the history of the Volvo Ocean Race. Unfortunately, it was also one of the most dramatic. John Fisher left us and the Cape Horn passage was not what we expected; we can't forget John and his family.

My thoughts also go to David (Witt, ed.), his friend and skipper, and the whole team. Scallywag was the smile of this race and I loved her spirit. I would like to give David my support; as a skipper this is the nightmare we fear most in our job: losing a crew member. But unfortunately that's part of our sport. This risk exists, as it does for mountaineers and free climbers at altitude.

The risk is very small compared to that in the mountains, but it exists. We always try to sail safely, but we are sailing a race on a high-speed boat in the most dangerous ocean. This is part of ocean sailing and its legend. We all come to meet this challenge and push the boundaries.

By Simon "Si Fi" Fisher, navigator in the Vestas 11th Hour Racing team

There are only a few hours left until we reach Cape Horn. As a farewell present, the Pacific serves us a scoop of more than 40 knots of wind with gusts of over 50 knots. As we reach the continental shelf, the waves pile up even higher than usual. Every 30 seconds, the boat races down the waves at speeds of over 30 knots, only to slow down so dramatically in the wave trough that you have to brace yourself against the force.

Sitting here in the navigation corner feels like being locked in a dark and damp underground railway carriage hurtling along. If you didn't know the calibre of the sailors on deck, you'd think we were out of control. With every wave we sail down, the saildrive with its folding propeller makes screaming noises like a Star Wars spaceship in battle, adding to the impression of the prevailing forces and speed.

Cape Horn is, of course, the most iconic of all the capes. Not as a cape itself, but because of what it represents: the fact that we have finally conquered the Southern Ocean. We endured many days of heavy weather, storms, squalls, snow, hail and freezing temperatures. Massive waves and howling winds. All this in a fleet of powerful boats so close together that we had no choice but to sail at 100 per cent at the limit all the time. Passing Cape Horn this time will be more fulfilling than ever before.

We look forward to seeing the Cape, will pause for a moment and reflect on what we have endured. We will raise a toast to what we have achieved and remember those we have so sadly lost.

When the moment is over, we'll get back to work and race hard until Brazil.

Cheers, Si Fi.