Cape Horn
Once by the Pacific
The shattered water made a misty din. Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore, that water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies, like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if, the shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent; it looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age. Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken Before God’s last Put out the Light was spoken
- Robert Frost
Cape Horn. The name conjures up visions of massive waves hurling themselves on desolate shores. It is the dividing line between two great oceans: the Atlantic and Pacific. At almost 56 degrees south latitude Cape Horn forms the northern end of the dreaded Drake Passage, the open sea between the tip of South America and Antarctica. Here in the “Furious Fifties” and “Screaming Sixties” there is no other landmass to halt or slow winds on our planet and so the westerlies build upon themselves, often at gale force strength and higher.
The very mention of Cape Horn to sailors of old would bring fear and apprehension; and well it should, as many sailors lost their lives trying to round the tip of South America. In 1788 Captain William Bligh tried unsuccessfully for 31 days straight to round the Horn in the HMS Bounty. After making only 85 miles towards his goal he gave up, turned the Bounty around, and went the long way via the Cape of Good Hope in Africa.
From the late 18th century through the early 20th century clipper ships carried cargo from Europe to ports along the west coast of South America around Cape Horn. In the 3 years of 1881- 1883 fully 224 ships of over 300 tons each were lost with all hands without a trace trying to round the Horn. In the year 1905 130 ships left Europe bound for the west coast of South America via the Horn, 55 were never heard from again. Over 3,000 lives were lost trying to round the Horn in coal carrying ships alone. Cape Horn!
The plan last night for the National Geographic Explorer was to approach Cape Horn from the south, homeward bound to Ushuaia. The westerly winds built through the evening and into the morning, with Captain Oliver Kruess reporting 20-foot seas by 4:00AM. Like Captain Bligh some 223 years before us, the decision was made to fall off the wind and run with the swell. Sometimes the Horn is just not to be had. Immediately upon changing course the motion of the ship eased as if she understood that we were headed for the protected waters of the Beagle Channel, and then on to Ushuaia for a calm night alongside.
