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Derek Hatfield does not consider himself a risk-taker.

Yes, the father of two young children is preparing for a solo yacht race around the world. He expects to be at sea non-stop for about 100 days on a course taking him into the fierce Southern Ocean, one of the most remote places on Earth and the graveyard of the only other Canadian to have entered the Vendée Globe.

And he's short of money. Still lacking a title sponsor, the 56-year-old borrowed $1-million to help finance one of the fastest single-handed sailboats on the planet. The technology is moving so fast, though, that the boat has limited resale potential, assuming it finishes the race in one piece.

But Mr. Hatfield, a soft-spoken and methodical former Mountie, said that his quest should be viewed as passionate, not reckless. He's a detail man and not an extreme athlete, he said, in a sport that requires a mixture of skill, mental toughness and visceral knowledge of the boat's vulnerabilities.

The Spirit of Canada is a thoroughbred built for pure speed, capable of more than 65 kilometres per hour, but is surprisingly delicate in some respects. First-time visitors are warned that they could do damage by jumping on the deck of the 60-foot boat.

"Here you have a boat built very close to the edge, you can break it really easily," Mr. Hatfield said as he stood in the cockpit. "It doesn't take a very big chunk of ice." Gesturing to a nearby boulder smaller than a refrigerator, he added: "One like that could sink the boat."

That may have been what happened when Montrealer Gerry Roufs disappeared at sea in 1997, leaving no trace until parts of his boat washed up months later on the Chilean coast. During that same race, Raphaël Dinelli of France was rescued by Britain's Pete Goss, who turned back into heavy seas to reach his stricken competitor, after his boat sank.

The November start of the quadrennial Vendée Globe is expecting the largest field yet. But history suggests that many of the 30 boats will be unable to finish.

Some will be disabled by weather or bad luck. Others will pull out because their skipper has a medical emergency or cracks under the mental strain. And in spite of new rules keeping entrants closer to land, there remains the real possibility that disaster will strike beyond the reach of rescue.

Still, Mr. Goss admitted some wistfulness that he will not be starting this year's race.

"I would love to do the next Vendée," he said in an e-mail exchange. While he called the race "an amazing experience," he also offered the warning that the day-to-day reality is very different from the screaming headlines about tragedies and heroic rescues at sea.

Mr. Hatfield has the same approach. But there's no question that regardless of his drive, Mr. Hatfield is handicapped by limited funding. Unable to find a corporation willing to pay for naming rights, the price of which has dropped to $300,000 as the race approaches, he is relying on thousands of individual supporters.

"I lay awake at night worrying about the money," he revealed. "The other skippers don't have to think about that."

Budgets of many times Mr. Hatfield's $3.7-million are common and he will be facing off with competitors boasting much deeper pockets. One boat he'll be racing is sponsored by Hugo Boss; another by the British telecom giant BT.

"You would think that someone like BMW Canada or even a large Canadian software company would want to say they're a part of this effort," said Tim Brown, executive director of the Canadian Yachting Association.

This is why, barely two months before the start of the race, Mr. Hatfield has to spare time to speak to the media and take backers out on sailing excursions. His wife, Patianne Verburgh, accompanied him on a recent outing, with their son Ben, less than a month old, resting placidly in the spartan little cabin as the boat surged through the waves.

It will be lonelier vessel during the race, with extremely limited home comforts. Mr. Hatfield will eat endless meals of freeze-dried food cooked on a single-burner stove and catnap his way around the world in a small bunk next to a number of instruments. He will be able to reach his family and support team by e-mail or satellite phone but won't see them for three months or more.

"It is selfish," Mr. Hatfield said as he explained why he couldn't do the race without his wife's support. "Some guys, they know their family is unhappy and it wears them down. They get the phone calls asking them to come home and they do. They quit and sail back."