Returning from the Antarctic Continent, we sailed around Cape Horn, legendary site of innumerable shipwrecks and disasters. In the days of sailing vessels, before steam and mechanization, ships at sea were
at the mercy of the wind. Often, as they rounded the Cape, these ships would be driven into the shallow water and onto the rocks by fierce storms and winds they could not control. Countless sailors lost their lives off Cape Horn.
This particular day, the seas were calm; we even had a rainbow across the left side of the fearsome Cape.
The ship anchored a little off the coast, and a landing party was sent out. Ordinarily, I abide by an unspoken agreement Nancy and I have- that where the two of us cannot go together, neither of us will go alone. There was something about this place,
however, that compelled me to leave her asleep on the ship, and land on the Cape.
We climbed out of the Zodiacs, which dropped us off at a small clearing on the shore. From this tiny “beach”, we were able to climb a set of rickety, icy stairs to the plateau above, where the only structures were a small sanctuary and a house in which
lived the lighthouse keeper, his wife and daughter.