The 40th parallel runs dead centre through Bass Strait and true to form it lived up to its reputation for extreme weather with gale force winds, driving rain and pounding seas. Indeed this was the Roaring Forties!

By all accounts we were heading into some heavy weather. I’m not sure why but I’ve always enjoyed a good storm whether on land or at sea, there’s something primal about the energy when the elements combine and it makes you feel alive.

After taking over two hours to load an assortment of cars and trucks into what is effectively a floating parking station and a further two hours to weave our way through the shipping channels in the relative calm and shallow waters of Port Phillip Bay we squeezed out through the heads and into the open ocean, all of a sudden it was game on!

There was moderate swell running with intermittent showers but it was the wind that was threatening, initially from the north west at 20 to 30 knots but swinging west and you know that’s spells trouble in these parts.

I remember well from the only other time I’ve sailed across these waters in the 1994* Sydney to Hobart yacht race that when the wind swings west it’s time to batten down the hatches. Back then we’d had a pretty easy run down the coast with a 15 – 20 knot nor’easter pushing us into Bass Strait when all of a sudden this strange line of cloud appeared on the horizon and suddenly the wind swung violently to the west and came in at 50+ knots, and the seas went from virtually dead calm to rolling monsters and neither let up until we reached the relative safety of Tasmania’s east coast.

Similarly on this voyage, once the wind went west the swell picked up dramatically, the difference this time was that I was in a 48,000 ton ship rather than a 40′ yacht! All the same the ship pitched and rolled, shuddered and creaked with the whistling wind and spattering rain adding to the cacophony. It was great!

Not everyone enjoyed it as much as me, anyone who tried to walk around the cabin looked like they were shikkered and I was aware that a number of people had headed for the head (toilet) and didn’t reappear, I’m just grateful I didn’t need to make a visit because I’m sure it wasn’t pretty in there.

As darkness fell the sky looked even more menacing and the wind seemed to get even stronger but it wasn’t as much fun when you couldn’t see the spray flying and waves smashing against the side of the ship.

Eventually, after about 7 hours at sea I noticed the light from the Mersey Head lighthouse cutting through the mist and spray and realised out journey was coming to an end. How appropriate that I should experience what so many sailors had before me, a welcoming light after a wild ride!

As we entered the calm waters of the Mersey river in Devonport, docked and drove our vehicles off into the night I couldn’t help reflecting on the raw power of nature and the bravery of all those seafarers who took on the challenges of sailing the world’s oceans in ships that were much less seaworthy and without all the modern aids to navigation to guide them on their way, just charts, telescopes, sextants and lighthouses!

• How coincidental that the year I did the Sydney to Hobart was the same year that the lighthouse circumnavigation was first suggested to me by Geoff!