There were many reasons to fear my passage through the Southern Ocean, and how it might once and for all expose me as not quite the individual I aspired to be. The vastness of the ocean hangs heavy on the human mind. I’d managed my first month of progress down the Atlantic by breaking my journey into phases related to weather transitions.

Each phase of the Atlantic had taken five or six days, and after completing one I’d move quickly on to the next. The Southern Ocean would be different, I knew that. It would be six or seven weeks of the toughest sailing of my life, accompanied by the kind of oppressive grey cloud cover that hangs heavy over even the brightest of temperaments, so consistent and opaque that it was impossible to tell what time of day it was. There would be week-long stretches where I would never see the sun.

On those days the damp and cold worked its way through every item of clothing into the core of my body, making it feel like I would never be warm again. Working on deck was the greatest physical and mental challenge. The water temperature was around 6°C, and when a wave washed over my exposed face or hands it would shock me instantly. Just trimming sails became a battle against the elements. To look forwards through the oncoming waves involved lifting my face into a shower of needles, the hard, icy spray driving straight into my eyeballs.

Vendée Globe conditions are often grim. Photo: Pip Hare/Medallia

Cold comfort

But it wasn’t just being on deck that became challenging in Southern Ocean conditions. The inside of the boat became a cold, dank dungeon. The carbon structure of Medallia (ex-Superbigou) provided scant insulation from the surrounding water temperatures. I was separated from the ocean by as little as 4cm, which meant the hull of the boat was the same temperature as the water around it.

Article continues below…

Every surface was covered in a slick of water, as the moisture in my breath and from cooking settled and condensed. Trying to make repairs in this environment was difficult. I’d have to squeeze my body into tight spaces, pressing myself against the cold hull. My limbs would go numb, hands seizing up. Tools went rusty within days if not dried off with a kitchen towel and sprayed with lubricant after every use; sticky tape was rendered ineffectual.

There are also times when there’s something to smile about. Photo: Pip Hare/Medallia

Finding motivation

The overwhelming urge of a cold, wet body and tired brain to find excuses not to go on deck, change sails or carry out routine checks and maintenance was huge. I had to keep pressure on myself at the right time. But there was no routine to settle into: I’d be required to change tempo often, adapting my rate and style of work to the weather, and maintain my motivation by reminding myself always of who I wanted to be – and that was a person who let no opportunity pass them by.

Details mattered. My entire focus shrank to the size of the boat. I needed to check religiously that all the lines in the cockpit were still tucked into their bags, as they could quickly get free to clog cockpit drains or go over the side, where they might wrap themselves around rudders or the hydrogenerator.

Medallia’s unprotected deck was often awash with cold water. Photo: Pip Hare/Medallia

I needed to watch wind speed and direction constantly, setting alarms to alert me to changes, never allowing myself to sleep for more than 40 minutes at a time. In these circumstances, there’s no time or space to lift your head, to take a breather, to think about future or past. There is only the minute-by-minute present.

I feed off pride when times are tough. When my inner thoughts challenge me not to go on deck and make a micro-adjustment, because it ‘won’t make that much difference’, I force myself out from under my blanket to do it anyway. I love the person I am on my return. I feel proud of the fact I took the hard option. No one made me do it, and no one will bear witness that I did it. But in that one small motion, I have made a small stride towards becoming the person I want to be.

It feels good, and I acknowledge my strength.

Buy Pip Hare’s In My Element at Amazon

Note: We may earn a commission when you buy through links on our site, at no extra cost to you. This doesn’t affect our editorial independence.

If you enjoyed this….

Yachting World is the world’s leading magazine for bluewater cruisers and offshore sailors. Every month we have inspirational adventures and practical features to help you realise your sailing dreams.

Build your knowledge with a subscription delivered to your door. See our latest offers and save at least 30% off the cover price.