Barrelling along in the middle of the night with all sails up - hooked

CELEBRITY FANS: Theo Dorgan, 56, Sailing

When did you start sailing? About 15 years ago. We had a barge on the Shannon – Paula (Meehan, his partner, the poet) and myself. We went to the boat show to pick up some bits and pieces. We picked up a brochure for Oliver Hart's boat, Spirit of Oysterhaven. They were looking for crew on it for a week, heading up to Dún Laoghaire.

Paula said: “You should do that.”

I said: “I don’t know.”

She said: “Do you ever read your own poems? They’re full of the sea. Would you go on?”

So I set off with this rag, tag and bobtail crew, on this beautiful 70-foot schooner, skippered by an Englishman. We persuaded him to do a night sail. We were off Ballycotton about one o’clock in the morning and I was on the wheel. There were trawlers coming in, the ferry coming in, and he looked and said: “Ah, you seem to have that under control. I’m off to sleep. Call me if you need me.”

Suddenly, you’ve got 50 tonnes of boat with all sails up barrelling along in the middle of the night. I worked out soon after he wasn’t asleep at all. He was just sitting inside the companionway to see how we’d handle it.

But the thing was pulling like a train and I thought, Jeez, this is just the business. That was it. I was hooked.

Can you explain the rush?If you can imagine a 70-foot boat with all sails up, on a good point of sailing, with a good wind, and you can feel the shape the hull is making cutting through the water, and it's in perfect balance, and it's all coming up through the wheel to your fingertips. It's a sense of power and grace.

How experienced are you now? I still think of myself as a beginning sailor.

Is there a history of sailing in your family?Well, interestingly, my great-grandmother died at sea off Cape Horn in 1896, and was buried off the ship. Fortunately, there was somebody on board to wet-nurse my grandfather, and to bring him home.

What's the longest you've been out at sea? Thirty-five days; the longest continuous stretch was, I think, 23 days.

Can you go crazy at sea? People have been known to. You've got, approximately, the living space of a 40-foot container.

Imagine that rolling down Carrauntoohil on dodgy wheels, for 23 days, turning over every now and then.

One of the astonishing things for me, especially about deep-water sailing, is the immense thoughtfulness people show each other. If somebody’s on your watch and they’re feeling a bit down, you automatically say: “Sit down. You’re grand. We’ll do this. Take a rest there.”

You’d keep an eye on them. Cheer them up. Tell them jokes.

Is sailing elitist? Club sailing and racing sailing still has an element of that in it. When I grew up in Cork unless you were born into a sailing family you didn't go sailing.

There was an element of couldn’t be seen in town in August in case people didn’t think you had a boat. But what you discover, as is usual in life, is that perfectly normal, everyday people, without pretentions, go sailing. In fact, I think more and more now.

Sailing is far less an elite occupation than it used to be, for the most part, especially ocean sailing, which is a bit different to your club racing, to your twice around the buoys and four hours drinking gin and ton-tons in the club bar.

What frustrates you about sailing? I don't like coastal sailing. I'm not good at it. There's lots of stuff to run into!

What’s frustrating is if you can’t lay your course because you’re expecting winds from a particular direction and you’re not getting them. Or you run out of garlic. On long trips, food is incredibly important, not just for energy, which you burn up a lot of, but also for the comfort value.

People at sea often cook very elaborate meals; you’ve a lot of time on your hands.

What makes a good sailor? A feel for the boat, I suppose, a feel for what the wind's doing, for what's happening moment to moment. On long trips, deepwater, a willingness to be part of the company, to put the boat and your companions first. Common sense.

Being willing to do what you’re told by someone who knows better. Above all else, the wit to stay in the boat!

Theo Dorgan's Time on the Ocean: A Voyage from Cape Horn to Cape Townwill be published by New Island in October.