A night to remember

Years ago, Tammy and I were winding up a seven-day ocean cruise through New England and Canada. We’d had a great time on our trip: walking the Freedom Trail in Boston, touring the majestic mansions of the robber barons of the late 1800s in Newport, Rhode Island, visiting Peggy’s Cove, a quaint little fishing village in Nova Scotia, and walking through the narrow cobblestone streets of old town Quebec City.

We were really looking forward to our last scheduled stop on the way back to our home port: Bar Harbor, Maine to perhaps do some whale-watching and eat some fresh lobster right off the boat.

But the night before we were going to put into port in Bar Harbor, something bad started happening.

The wind picked up, and so did the waves. That big cruise ship – our home for the week – started rocking and rolling like nothing you’ve ever seen. My bride and I were about to experience our first, and with any luck our last, nor’easter storm.

It got so bad over the next couple of hours that the captain came on the ship’s public address system and told us all to come inside, off the decks and away from the windows. He said, “Folks, it looks like we’re not going to make it into Bar Harbor tomorrow after all.”

Once we all got inside, they locked all the doors behind us, served us a quick dinner, and sent us to our cabins. Trying to sleep that night, well, that wasn’t going to happen. For the next eight hours, we heard doors slamming closed, dishes crashing, even some poor folks screaming from somewhere down the hall. And if you were lucky enough not to get seasick, trying to sleep was like lying on a seesaw with a rowdy kid bouncing up and down on each end.

Sometime the next morning, things started to get a little bit better. They still wouldn’t let us on the deck, however, because the ocean swells were up to thirty feet high. I can remember sitting in a chair next to a big porthole and looking thirty feet down at the bottom of a wave, and then watching the next wave come up just a few seconds later, right to the bottom of the porthole.

It was probably sometime that afternoon before the storm finally passed. The captain came back onto the PA and finally gave us the all-clear. And then, he said something that has stuck with me ever since: “I’m sorry we didn’t make it into Bar Harbor,” he said. “But these storms blow up without notice from time to time, and it’s dangerous to try to outrun them. You never want to bring a ship into port during a storm if you don’t have to; there are just too many things to run into, too many hazards.”

“Oddly enough,” he continued, “the safest place you can be during a big storm at sea, is actually at sea. And while you’ve been trying to sleep, we’ve been up here on the bridge keeping your ship on course. As a result, we will arrive safely and on time tomorrow morning. We appreciate your patience.”

As an investor, if you’re going to own stocks you’re going to run into storms once in a while; they’re unavoidable, And I hope when that happens that you have an experienced captain to steer you through them, and I hope your captain is smart enough not to try and out-run them.

I hope whoever is steering your financial ship, whether it’s you, your financial advisor – or in the case of our clients – my family, is able to keep you on course when these storms happen, and that they get you to your home port, safe and on time.

My family and I love the ocean, but Tammy and I certainly didn’t enjoy getting tossed around for 24 hours in that nor’easter. But we realized something really important about investing from that New England cruise. When you’re on a good ship in the middle of a bad storm, the last thing in the world you want to do is jump off it.

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Any opinions are those of Mike Brown and not necessarily those of Raymond James. Investing involves risk and you may incur a profit or loss regardless of strategy selected. Prior to making an investment decision, please consult with your financial advisor about your individual situation.