Clad in layers of clothing for warmth and in windproof, waterproof dungarees and anorak with Velcro galore. Life jacket fixed around the neck, like the lapels of a coat, and strapped under the crotch to keep in place. Four foot long leash fixed from waist to carabina for securing to safety points. Flares and emergency position transmitters explained.

It all seemed a bit much as we motored out of Barmouth harbour in search of a breeze on a flat sea - little did I know what was coming.

This was a training day for the crew of Kilva to compete in the Three Peaks Yacht Race and I was coming along for the ride.

Captain Dave explained the route and the plan for the day with the half way point being lunch by the island of St Tudwal's off Abersoch. Sun protection cream and bathers were optimistically in my bag - you never can tell which way the weather will flip.

Of the five-man crew, two were runners whose job is to run from shore up Snowdon, Scafell Pike and Ben Nevis, whilst the others sail the 389 miles between Barmouth and Fort William taking shifts to helm, standby and rest.

I asked Keith, one of the runners looking full of stamina and endurance, how he viewed the prospect of three marathons in as many days.

"I'm really looking forward to it. Adventure sports, endurance running and ultra marathons are what I do. I've not done this one before and the challenge for me is to see how I cope with the sailing."

It was also an opportunity for him to get a feel for the boat, the facilities for preparing high energy meals, where to crash out and rest including the use of straps to stop you rolling off your bunk.

The support team would travel by car to deliver refreshments and equipment along the way. At the foot of Snowdon Keith would swap his road runners for fell runners and at Whitehaven his bike would be ready for the cycle stage of the race.

Also on board was software designer Paul, another passenger, testing out the innovative tracking systems that will plot the position of the boat and runners displaying them on sanoodi.com, a portal for people sharing adventures.

"You can watch the progress of runners as they go. Sometimes we can see them take a wrong turning, but that's the game, orienteering and endurance are what they compete on," said Paul as he settled back to read his Saturday Guardian.

The engine was cut and we flapped around waiting for the breeze or a gust to come our way. Ripples approached and we lurched into momentum but not for long.

With the wind direction from behind the enormous sky blue spinnaker was unleashed and it billowed upwards and forwards pulling the 42 foot Kilva northwards - at last we were making good progress across the smooth seas.

Captain Dave was behind the massive steering wheel glancing through the spokes at the GPS screen plotting our course. "We're staying close to shore taking the East passage, the gap in Sarn Badrig," he said.

This is the causeway created by glaciers sliding off Snowdonia and which stretches 12 miles out to sea. Looking at the small screen I could see we were in the middle of the gap with the positions of wrecks marked either side of us, one of them a Genoese galleon sunk in 1709.

The breeze picked up and we moved effortlessly across the bay towards St Tudwal's, this felt like proper sailing with sea birds skimming the sea or diving for fish, nice and steady with lunch beckoning.

But the closer we got the stronger the wind blew and the calm turned to choppy, the spinnaker was replaced with the headsail - by the time we anchored behind a cove the rain was pouring down and we were bobbing up and down like a toy.

Sandwiches, soup and hard boiled eggs were prepared in the cabin below with most us choosing the less nauseous option of eating al fresco in the rain. If the bread was not moist to begin with, it certainly was by the time it left the plate.

Instead of a leisurely break we were keen to get going and set sail towards Ireland. We turned around the ominous tolling bell on the buoy that marks the end of Sarn Badrig.

At this stage the captain thought the homeward left hand leg would take a couple of hours, but it was to take a lot longer than that. The wind was strengthening all the while and the crew needing to 'take in a reef' - to make the sail smaller by folding up a portion or 'reef'.

By this stage Keith the runner had an answer to his question about the sea and how it might affect him. His face had turned a greeny grey and would occasionally dip seaward away from the wind. Even seasoned sailors were struggling to keep down the boiled eggs.

For my part I was pre-occupied with the horizon, any stretch of it, in an effort to beat back the nausea and the fear. At times the boat was right over on its side as I tensed my legs against the opposite seat.

My stomach was knotted and taut. Each time the captain called for another reef to be taken in, my respect grew for the fearless sailors as they staggered and crawled across the deck to adjust the sail at the mast.

I was scared and most definitely outside any semblance of a comfort zone. The angles at which we were tipping and the battering from the waves suggested that going over was the next logical step.

But the skill and experience of the unflappable sailors provided an equally strong logic that we would not just survive, but soon be home enjoying a welcome drink at the pub.

Several hours later than planned we motored into the harbour with force 8 winds rushing at us down the Mawddach. Getting Kilva safely to the quay was out of the question and our mooring was at the most exposed point in the middle of the estuary.

With difficulty we eventually secured the boat but that was it, we were stuck - no way could the inflatable dinghy carry us through these waves. We waited until the tide turned and hoped for the wind to drop, but as darkness descended the wind continued to howl through the rigging - should we overnight on board or risk overboard at night?

The great thing about going out with a local crew is local knowledge and friends. Jaffa, the youngest member of the team, was due to be working that evening in the pub, The Last Inn. In fact the crew is sponsored by the pub and named Team Last Inn.

Jaffa phoned his mum the landlady to say he was stuck on the boat, but she was not going to let that disrupt the bar roster. John the Ferryman, who normally plies people between Barmouth and Fairbourne, was enjoying a quiet pint in the pub and kindly agreed to rescue us - one by one on a powerful rigid hull inflatable. What welcome relief to be on land again - but it just wouldn't keep still!

It's on occasions like this that I feel most moved to donate to the RNLI and fortunately this time they were not needed. But as Team Last Inn are raising money for Sailability, the Royal Yacht Association's charity bringing boating to people with disabilities, I think a donation here would be in order.
Huw Jenkins