Well, it’s taken me a little while since getting back on dry land but I have finally got around to writing an account of my adventures on the high seas, namely my crossing of the Atlantic in my friend Stewart’s yacht Iguana, over the New Year period. Stewart has been sailing the world for 14 years, but always alone, so it was very unusual for him to be making this Atlantic crossing, from Tenerife to La Gomera and then across to Tobago, with passengers on board, namely his Danish girlfriend Kirsten, myself, and Patrick, a Swiss boat builder who speaks no English! We all had our different reasons for making the trip; I felt that I had reached a stage in my life where I needed a challenge, and an opportunity to reflect on who I was and where I was going, and luckily my wife Jocelyn and my children supported my decision. Over the next few weeks I was certainly going to get the time to do an awful lot of thinking!

We set sail on Boxing Day 2005 for the voyage we had estimated would take us 12 to 14 days to complete, depending on the prevailing conditions. As it turned out, we were to experience the worst sea and weather conditions out in the Atlantic for 200 years, with 7 metre waves and winds at 45 knots, which resulted in the journey, a total of 2,790 nautical miles, actually taking us 18 days, but all the time I had faith in our ship, a 44 foot Jeanneau, our skipper Stewart and in my companions, to get me safely to Tobago.

There were many times however, when I wondered why on earth I had taken the decision to go, especially during the first 6 days when the boat was sailing into the wind and waves, but on the 7th day we crossed the Tropic of Cancer and the weather got noticeably warmer.

I wondered again, when the high winds ripped both our sails apart on the 5th day out and Stewart had to climb the masts to drag them down, but he remained, as always, calm and reassuring in the face of the danger. It took us two days to repair the sails, during which time we celebrated the strangest New Year of my life. Here I was, 1500 miles from land, thinking about the “Grease” Party I knew was happening back at Pearly Grey, and drinking a solitary can of beer with my companions, whilst we all wore glittery wigs to celebrate the occasion….

On the 6th day we heard a massive bump, and we began taking on water…the spinnaker pole had struck the side of the ship but we discovered, by hanging over the side of the boat and waving torches in the pitch darkness and with 7 metre waves all around us, that the water was coming in via the rudder. Luckily we were able to fix the bilge pumps and we sailed safely on.

By now I was enjoying myself; my favourite watch was between 12 and 4 am, when I was alone with the stars and the immense, powerful ocean, to think my private thoughts. We had no means of satellite communication with us, five days from land we ran out of water so had to drink sangria instead, and I was only able to take a shower once in 18 days but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Every night, alone in my cabin, I wrote my journal by torchlight, missing my wife and family more with every passing day, but then suddenly, when we were already 4 days overdue, we saw land, I got a signal on my mobile, and I was finally able to make an emotional phone call to my wife.

We left the turmoil of the Atlantic Ocean to enter the tranquil haven that is Man o’ War Bay, Tobago, one of the most beautiful places in the world, with its fishing boats and pelicans, simple huts and colourful parrots. We had made it!

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