My watch was on at 6AM, in the dark, and just 20 miles from the horn. There was a real sense of excitement on board, this is what they had come here for, and so far nothing was disappointing. At about half past six, we needed to gybe off to avoid some rocks. It went smoothly until I realized that the running backstay (an essential part of the rig) was caught on the front of the mast, and the only way to clear it was to climb up to the first spreaders and flick the rope off. I was on watch with three of the guests, and as much as they wanted excitement, it isn't fair to send them up the mast at Cape Horn in 50 knots of wind. I had no choice, and so I clipped on and went forward. The guys watched me from the cockpit with their torches showing me the way, and I slowly climbed up the ladder. It isn't difficult to climb the mast, but it is my least favorite job on board. Only 12 hours earlier, I had mentioned to Dave that it was pretty much the only thing I wouldn't be able to do in strong winds. I suppose there is nothing like a sense of urgency and need to overcome fear, and in the end it wasn't so bad. The rope was freed and wound on tight, and the rig was strong again. I was safely back in the cockpit, and everyone was happy to be back on course, clear of the rocks and with the faintest shadow of the Horn appearing through the gloomy light.