My return trip in 1969 was supposed to have been from Hamburg, Germany in mid-November, but instead I sailed at the beginning of December from Bremen, Germany. The ship was the Meyer Line M/S 'HAVJO', 11,200BRT, about 450-ft. long, and 75-ft. wide. While in harbor, I had estimated the distance from the waterline to the top of the bow to be about 35-ft. On top of the bow was a 3-inch diameter steel pipe that was bent backward. The freeboard of the hull to the railing was about 25-ft. We sailed in early afternoon and reached the North Sea by night fall. The moment we entered the North Sea the ship began a slight up and down movement and I got sick and threw up over the fantail. I hadn't eaten much the night before. The weather was cool, with a light snowfall. The following day we sailed just within sight of the coast. It was gusty, cool and overcast. At night we sailed through the English Channel and entered the Atlantic the next morning, and the swells became much longer. The next 7 days, the wind started to blow progressively stronger, and the other 11 passengers took turns missing meals and feeling sick. A day and a half out of New York it got to the point that the captain decided to discontinued our course and turn into the wind. We maintained revolutions for 5 kts., essentially to keep control of the ship. I had found out in the meantime why the 3-inch pole had been bent. It had been bent on the previous passage by waves, that had also washed the on-deck containers off the ship. Big insurance loss! This storm was classified on the Beaufort Scale as a Force 9. Sustained winds of 45kts. with higher gusts. The captain estimated the wave height to be about 30-ft. The height of waves is determined by three factors, rogue waves and tsunamis excluded: 1) strenght of wind, 2) duration the wind is blowing, and 3) the fetch-the distance over which the wind is blowing. I had never seen anything like this before. To me the waves looked like mountains. The roar of the ocean and the noise of the wind were unbelievable. Depending on the object in its path, the wind was screaming, howling, whistling and roaring. I was on the flying bridge, which is on top of a five-deck super structure and about 45-ft. above the water line. I had my Nikon around my neck because I was worried about it being blown away, and I had my feet braced and was holding on to the railing with my right hand, because I was worried about being blown away. I took this shot quickly, because the air was full of salt spray. The big waves were spaced about 400-500-ft. apart. On top of the big waves were smaller waves, parts of which were blown away, and the surface of the ocean was streaked with foam, and the visibility was limited. Most of the time the bow of the ship came out of the trough and was on its way up when the next wave hit, and the ship adopted an attitude like a 747 on take-off. But ocasionally the bow was on a downward movement when the next wave approached, and that made the approaching wave instantly look bigger. When the wave hit, it went over the 35-ft. high bow and there was a sickening feeling of having run into a solid wall. The entire ship shook, and the bow felt like a giant was pushing it under. I was fascinated but scared, and I realized that there is absolutely nothing we could do except taking the precautions we did and hope for the best. The actual storm center was a couple of hundred miles away. Ironically, none of us passengers were sick that day, maybe we were too scared. This picture was taken in December 1969 and later scanned. Thanks for viewing and commenting.