Archive for January 2010
For the past 96 hours the whole fleet has stopped and hung off para-anchors. All boats have drifted, some more than others. What is fascinating is that our neighbours, some a mere 10 to 30 miles away have suffered massive loss of ground overall, while for the most part we have been treading water in the same spot. In one 24 hour period, for example, we lost only a mile, while our close competitors gave up as much as 20nm to the east! Our luck turned against us last night when we inadvertently made 8.21 miles easting, while those in our vicinity managed to track up to 25 miles to the south. The problem in trying to understand what is happening and so to harness it to our advantage, is that we don’t know the variables – do our competitors have a 9ft or a 12ft para-anchor out? What length of line is it at the end of? Do they have it fed out on a bridle or on a single strop from the boat’s towing eye on the bow (as we do)? Have they adjusted any of the above?
Our predicament this morning was that we didn’t want to give up too many miles to the north or east in the process of trying to row. There is a physics equation involving energy versus effort and output, but basically we opted not to risk exhausting ourselves in what looked likely to be a fruitless endeavour. The wave train was still too steep and feisty to safely row through, especially as any breakers would be crashing over us a-beam. After a couple of hours of observation, to see if the wind was going to moderate any further, we decided to stay put.
This afternoon we did a 4 hour experiment in drift-control, by putting the rudder hard over and moving the tackle (the dead ends of the para-anchor trip line; the back-up strop line end and the strop retrieval line end) over to starboard. Our aim was to have all dragging lines in the water over to starboard and the boat pointing to port. The breeze continues to blow from the NW/NNW, but in the 15kt range rather than last night’s 25. The result of the experiment was positive! We gained sufficient ground to the west to cover 1 nautical mile towards our destination! (Yeeha!) Ultimately, I concluded that “square rigger mode” (setting up the boat to move in a direction 100-120 degrees to the true direction of the wind, like a square-rigger) is in theory, also possible under para-anchor. Unfortunately, right now, our para-anchor is hooked up to a fixed-length strop which is attached to the boat’s towing eye on the bow, not an adjustable bridle spanning the two cleats. If she were set-up under a bridle arrangement, we could go into full “square rigger under para-anchor mode” and feed out one of the bridle lines, so that the para-anchor sits not two wavelengths ahead as it is currently, but two wavelengths ahead and offset to windward. This would allow the boat to move off in the desired direction- WSW, without loosing any ground in theory to the north or east. Whether or not the rudder, cleats and lines could handle the increase in load, only time would tell and short of hauling the para-anchor in and re-rigging her to a bridle, we are unable to find out. Next time eh and during somebody else’s rowing race preferably!
If you haven’t nodded off already, I’ll quickly wrap up by saying that we whiled away the time in our own ways. I did some ‘body maintenance’- cut my nails and shaved my legs, mostly for my own benefit, so that there is minimal nail pressure on my fingers while I row and so that I don’t become obsessed with monitoring my leg hair growth with every stroke! Naturally the simplest of tasks become difficult maneuvers of balance and positioning, while the boat is bucking like a mad bronco. I also upgraded the stash of Green & Black’s chocolate from a food storage area to the ‘pharmacy/drugs’ compartment and pondered what kind of yacht race stops in the middle and takes a week off!
Distance = Speed x Time,
therefore
Time = Distance divided by Speed.
[Anyone who has ever plugged a waypoint into a GPS and then ground to a halt (lack of wind, doldrums, engine off) and seen the GPS come up with the words ETA (Estimated Time of Arrival) : NEVER, will appreciate this conundrum!] If the distance is negative, but the speed is positive (but in the wrong direction), where does that leave time? As a positive or a negative?
One thing I realized today is that I can’t worry about the future, because I can’t get to it! Strangely in accepting this, there comes a feeling of peace. In the words of Baz Lurhman ‘worrying is like trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble-gum,’ or as Mark wrote at the end of last night’s Amalgamail, ‘going backwards may be the way forwards!’
Colour of the day – lavender blue, seas 12ft
This blog was delivered via satellite phone using GMN’s XGate software with airtime sponsored by Wintron Electronics US
31
How long does it take to row an ocean?
0 Comments | Posted by LiveFromTheSea in Live Update
Over the last few days whilst wer have been going nowhere I have had some time to relect on this and have come to the answer in my case of approx. 800 days
As of today we have been at sea for 28 days this does not mean that we will take another 700 plus days to finish you will be relieved to know. The 800 days refers to the period from when Ifirsst enquired about doingthe race back in July 07 and the subsequent 2 years of planning and frustration that led to getting to the start line. The reason I mention this is because over ther last 4 days there has been a tendency to get frustrated with the weather delays we having. I got to thinking that although in he time we have spent atsea the 4 days is a significant period that actually in the whole tiomescale of the project it isa a very short time indeed.
Thinking liike this has helped me to deal withe fact that we have been sitting in a 24 foot boat with aboiut 800 miles of open ocean to the East, 1700 to the West, home is 2,500 North and to the South therer is open ocean until the Antarctic, and toi add to it all we have noi cointrol or very little over our own destiny until the weather changes. We are hopeful that tomorrow we will have more favourable winds buit am confident thyat if we hav to spend another day atanchor I/we will be able to deal with it positively.
Onthe plus side the last 4 days as allowed us to rest our injuriesand also have time to chat and bond as a team which is real bonus. e.g. this evening we both sat out and ate together for the first time on the trip and also a first we ate hot food. Normally one is rowing all the time and we generally make food in batches and eat it cold at the end iof our shifts. We now feel ready and prepared both physiccally and mentally for the second part of the race and are ;ooking forward to the push west to Antigua.
By the way hope thrte are not too masny speeeling errors. I have found the mosat effficient way to use the computer bis to lie on my back hold the computer above my head withe one hand whilst typoinbg with the other, the constantrockingof the boat though means that I bdo not always accurately hit the ight key. To reassure you my spellingis generslly very good and I can use spell checker but it takes 20 seconds or so to position the cursor accuraytely oveer any miustakes in order to correct them therefore onlyu the most major get corrected, so apologies to all those Engl8ish purists out there.
Hopefully we wiil be rowing by ther time we write our nerxt blogs.
Wind DIR 315-360 Magnetic
10-15kts.
Barometric pressure 1013
After over 72 hours of bobbing around stationery I have very little of note to report. The wind got up a bit later in the day to 20 knots and with it the wsaves increased. The boat takes all this heavy weather in her stride and bobs up like as cork overeach successive swell. I have been able to spend most of the day outside ondeck either listening to HarryPotter on my Ipod(am up to disc 8 out of 20).chatting with Lia or just watching the constantly moving and changing ocean.
Just before retiring to the cabin at sunset Iwas on deck trying to minimise the amount of ttime spent cooped up in the cabin when I noticed an unusually large wave approaching the back of the boat. No sooner had I done so than the wave was on tiop of us towerting above the baoat. The wave then broke over the boat completely drenching me and filling the cockpit with a foot of water. It took me ten minutes with asssistance of the electric bilge pump to bail out the water. I then striipped completely off and a very quick and very cold freshwater rinse to get rid of all the salt and quickly dived into the cabin.
Lying in the cabin in seas like this can quite restful however at tiomes when squalls come up such as the one that brought the large rogue wave the motion can be rather bumpy. I would say not unlike lying in the back of a flat bed truck being driven down a bumpy raod.
I looks from the fore casts thatr the weather may well continue throughout Monday as well which would be disappointing as we both are keen to get going again.
We are sitting in the middle of the (southern) North Atlantic (or thereabouts). If we’re lucky we’re just sitting, treading water. If we’re not, we’re loosing ground and drifting backwards. Sitting; parked; bopping around; going nowhere.The ocean rolls under us relentlessly. Squalls materialize and pass by. Others nuke us. ‘Dream Maker’ island remains, inhabited by only two people, who are marooned on its 23ft x 6ft platform.
This is the end of day 3 stuck on the para-anchor and while we would obviously prefer to be moving forward and on our way to Antigua, the para-anchor/sitting duck experience has so far, not been wholly unpleasant- at least, for me. This morning Mick and I chatted on deck. This afternoon I dozed in the cabin for 2 or 3 hours, fully exercising the opportunity to do Nothing. (‘Do Nothing’ – the words are like music to my ears). Finally around 4pm I got up and sat out on deck for a few hours. Mick’s timing was better. He got the sunshine hours. I got the rain and dousings, but with waterproof clothing, it doesn’t make much difference. My hands are healing- I can open a Tupperware box with the right, not quite yet with the left and Mick and I are taking the time to get to know each other. This is the intermission we didn’t know we needed.
Good or bad, the sitting-in-an-ocean thing is still very bizarre, but then crossing an ocean without sails, is also pretty bizarre. I still keep feeling like there’s something missing! I look up at the nav light/flag mini-mast and the VHF antenna draws your eye up 3ft and then stops.
The boat feels like it is charging forward. We always have the sensation of moving and in effect we are constantly moving. ‘Dream Maker’ jostles around continuously, as do our bodies, to counter balance. We are using lots of muscles all the time. The view is also perpetually in motion, as the cloud masses morph, stack into one another, break away, elongate or spread out into a barely discernable film. Everything is in flux. Everything is always changing. This is what I love out here. I never get bored. I enjoy being a tiny blip, adrift in an immensely powerful world, where all I can do is watch.
Colour of the day – 70’s turquoise; seas 8-10ft.
This blog was delivered via satellite phone using GMN’s XGate software with airtime sponsored by Wintron Electronics US
We have now been on para-anchor for over 48 hours and we are rapidly realising that ocean rowing boats are designed for one thing only and that is rowing. They are not designed for 2 people to spend time on without rowing taking place. Our normal routine is for one to row and the other to either sleep or use the cockpit area to do our routine chores. As soon as both are not rowing the available space is immediate;y halved , no where is this more true than in the cabin, which is adequate for one but cramped for two. As the weather today has been better we haave spernt a lot of time on deck tidying the boat, doing washing etc. which hasallowed us both to have some individual timein the cabin. As darkness falls there is little that we can do on deck so we have been retreating to the cabin as every time you are on the deck there is good chance of a soaking by one of the ra ndom larger waves. This is fine during the warmth of the day or when exerting yourself rowing but a tad chily at night.
Getting both of us into the cabin is the first challenge with only just enlough room to lie side by side and the entrance hatch being only 2.5 feet square it takes some tricky manouervering for the second person to get in without landing on the other. I yolu can imagine tryiong to slide yourself into bed through small window that is contantly moving andnot being able to sit up you get the idea, it’s a bit like a trurkey trying to push itself into the oven at christmas. Once in the cabin room to move is very limited with only a couple of inches to spare between us. Thiss makes the choice iof sleeping positions limited these beng flast out on your back, on one side but without being able to curl up or on your front. This is not good for someone like me who normally sleeps curled up and changes position every 5 mins. After several hours of lying still I get reaslly painful back ache so to spend 8 hours plus like this in not good. Luckily I have found that listening to story books on my Ipod takes me off to another world and acts as a distraction. Last night I listened one of my son James books called Eragon anmd then strated on the last of the Harry Potter books (Deathly Hallows) whiuch thankfully is vehy long(20 plusCD’s worth) and I amhoping that will last me through this period of adverse weather. It is also very easy to listen to and transports you off into another world.
At present it looks like we will be on anchor until at least Sunday. We are both desperate to get rowing and make some miles West, the only plus point being that some of our cuts and bruises andaches and pains are healing.
Thanks for all the relatioinship advice particularly from Bill Godffrey and Cliffe (good to hear from you it seems an age since we were enjoying a beer in Gomera!). We are going to follow your advice forthwith. If you are sending messages to Pete please say hi from us it’s great to see him giving us pairs arun for our money.
Beard update – facial fungus has been patchy around chin but growing well elsewhere. Now about 1cm long and starting to curl. A variety of colours from brown/black to silver with a blond moustache. Lia says it makes me look softer, obviously a reflection on my usual handsome sharply chiselled profile!
Despite the adverse weather generally a good day.
GMT 21.30 Wind direction 270-280 degrees 15 knots Barometric pressure -1010
Thank you to all those who sent us messages of encouragement and understanding. I for one, apologize if my ramblings of frustration upset anyone. I have read many expedition blogs of various kinds and usually lament how mundane or glossy they are. It is rare that you are allowed to follow what is really happening out there, but obviously there is a line and I hope I haven’t crossed it.
There seemed to be two camps of thought regarding the idea of a daily onboard hug! Some of you loved it. Some it were not so sure (29 year old girl, 44 year old married man). Well, you can all rest assured that the hugs are only probably ever going to be virtual. The logistics, Mick and I discussed, of actually hugging, compromise the boat’s safety! When both Mick and I are on the same side of the boat, she lists scarily to that side, almost putting the rail in the water! Also, up until now, one of us is always at the oars and the change-over involves keeping the seat from rolling forward with one foot, holding on the oars with one hand and boat with the other while the next rower installs him/herself- an act very in-conducive to hugging!
Today, Mick and I are well on our way to being more rested. There is no place to go and nothing much to do but sit around and sleep. Having said that, the only thing amiss today was the direction of the wind. The sun was shining, the sea was well-behaved and there were fewer squally cloud bursts compared to yesterday. I re-wired the compass light for the third time this trip (two tiny wires in a very exposed location) and finished fitting out our second seat carriage with functioning wheels, ready for quick replacement in the instance of another bearing going on the existing seat carriage. Meanwhile, Mick laundered his shorts and socks (another reason to row naked), made water and cleaned the cockpit while I cleaned the cabin. Neither of us could find the bag of Spanish wet wipes. Alarmingly, this means that in 2 weeks time we will run out.
The waves last night were impressive 20ft stacks that lifted the boat part way to the moon, for a momentary view of scores of other waves. Then down, down, down we would drop into the trough. Today, the horses, frothing white at the mouth were gone and the wind waves were very mellow. Both of us peered at the compass several times through the morning, to check the wind direction against the portable anemometer. The wind speed was just about row-able, but if we moved 6-9 miles in 6 hours then drifted back 4 under sea anchor it would barely be worth the effort if we had had to muscle it out together by rowing two-up. Interestingly, we wonder if we have found ourselves an eddie as we don’t seem to be loosing any ground. When we throw a tissue in the water, the tissue hangs out by the boat for a surprisingly long while. Maybe we’ve anchored on one of those mid-Atlantic ridges I was talking about!
‘There is a hippopotamus on our roof eating cake!’ Says the little boy, in the children’s book titled, ‘There is a Hippopotamus on our roof eating cake.’
‘What kind of cake does the hippopotamus eat?’ Asks the little boy’s mother.
‘The hippopotamus on our roof eats only chocolate cake.’ Replies the little boy.
Under our boat, there is a family of fish eating cake! Our left-over chocolate cake! Although in actual fact, our family of fish seem to eat anything. Yes, the black and white stripies are still there. While it is cute to be the life-support of a mobile acquarium, I hope this doesn’t mean that we are still sporting edible life-forms on our underbelly. Perhaps another fish has etched the words ‘next stop Antigua’ on our anti-foul. It will be fun to see if they hang out for the duration. Since the beginning of our time on para-anchor, the fish family have become bolder. They now pop out from underneath anytime we empty the bilge, throw something in the water or take a leak! ‘Oh come on guys, haven’t you got anything better for us?!’ I can imagine them saying. ‘Oh yuck. Don’t bother coming out Rolf, it’s just another curried lamb foil packet! We had that last night.’
Four years ago, a lady came up to me and asked me what I had learned from crossing the Atlantic by myself. I saw her again this summer and choked with tears, she reminded me what I had said to her. “That when you are cold, wet, hungry or alone in the middle of the night, you must always remember that the sun will come back.” For the crew of ‘Dream Maker,’ to succeed in rowing the Atlantic will be an amazing accomplishment, but to have learned how to become friends, work as a team and not simply function as two people who row and sleep on the same boat, will be the greatest achievement.
Below a squall this morning, a rainbow arched the horizon and vivid stripes of colour merged into an indefinable band.
Colour of the day: Evergreen, seas 6-8,/8-10ft.
This blog was delivered via satellite phone using GMN’s XGate software with airtime sponsored by Wintron Electronics US
Several days after arriving in North America after my first single-handed crossing in the OSTAR, I went to my friend Dana’s graduation party from the C.I.A (Culinary Institute of America). After a few drinks, I began to be more creative in my answer to the question, ’so what do you do when you’re sailing alone at night?’ ‘Well,’ I replied. ‘I anchor of course. Just like in the North Sea you have shallow spots- North Sea ridges, in the Atlantic there are also shallow spots- the Atlantic ridges.’ ‘Oh really, that’s great!’ My questioner would reply. ‘Oh yes,’ I continued, enjoying my yarn, ‘The mid-Atlantic tourist board have even put up flood lights and floating pontoons in some places. You can imagine the parties in the middle!’
At 17.20 Mick was starting to get wetter. The waves, which had increased in size, were now on occasion lipping the side of the boat or showering him with spray. It was also becoming more difficult to row, if the windward oar got stuck in an oncoming wave. In 6 hours we had gained one mile towards our destination and 6 to the North. However, we had not gone backwards, as we would with the sea anchor! While I knew that edging through the waves with the boat side-on was going to be more stable, (to row or not to row was another question, the boat was still moving at 1-2kts) Mick was out of his comfort zone and advocating we put out the sea anchor. My fingers eagerly agreed. They needed to heal, as do Mick’s feet which look (worse than they feel apparently), like he’s put them under a shoe-buffing wheel without any shoes on!
The sea anchor or para-anchor is a 6ft across collapsible nylon parachute, which you feed into the sea and allow to pull away from you until it is located about two wave cycles away. By then it has fully opened out and is several feet submerged. When attached to the bow of the boat, it keeps the boat cocked into the wind and waves, such that as the boat rides up and down, the waves roll under and away. With the deck cleared, everything away and the anchor out, there was now nothing more to be done. It was my off-watch so I took my sleepy self back to the cabin and made a divider cushion using clothes and a dry bag. Mick packed himself into the cabin on his side of the cabin and so the night began. Mick, who is thankfully neither particularly hairy or smelly, does radiate heat. He is a man-diator! Soon we were having to leave the door open at risk of spray.
Fortunately I had cooked our daily freeze-dried and made water earlier, as a strange feeling set in. It was as if someone had left on the energy tap and all my emotional and physical strength had seeped away. I lay in the cabin straight as an ironing-board (the only way with the two of us in there) with my hands planted on my chest. While Mick wondered how he was going to keep himself amused for the next few days and stave off the boredom, I knew exactly what I was going to do. NOTHING. My big pudgy yellow twig fingers have mere pink lines where the joints used to be. They’re fine straight, (I can type, obviously) but try and hold on to something or bend them and they jar as if sprained and I can’t help but cry out. You know that feeling when you’ve been out for a wintry walk and when you come in from the cold and the blood rushes back into you extremities? Nasty, isn’t it. I can’t understand it either. I never have a problem with my hands while sailing. But then I don’t pull 18-22 times per minute on a wooden handle which goes ‘clunk’ with a jolt every time the collar locks against the gate when the load of pushing water comes on. I look at them with despair, but they’ll get better, I know. They’ve just become the focus for my disgruntlement.
This afternoon, Mick spent a couple of hours un-crammed on deck. I just did the same, harnessed on, in full foulies with waterproof socks. Lazily, I watched the yellow polypropylene floating chute retrieval line snaking through the water, up and over each and every wave like a yellow vein through the blue. It is pretty odd looking up at 12-15ft waves. They seem so familiar and they are familiar, except that when we saw them last they were behind our stern propelling us merrily forward. At that point we never turned and pointed our bow into them! Now we’re in the middle of the highway watching the oncoming traffic careen and wobble towards us. Will this one cascade over us? I watch and wait. Nope, it doesn’t but sometimes a bit of it will catch the side of the boat and spill in. We are so low to the water that sitting in the cockpit you can reach your hand over and touch it.
More water files into the foot well and sloshes back and forth. Another wave blasts towards us, hits and jostles the cabin from side to side. The wind whistles around the hatch and buffets the boat. And so it continues…
Colour of the day – buttercup yellow, seas 12-15ft.
This blog was delivered via satellite phone using GMN’s XGate software with airtime sponsored by Wintron Electronics US
I saw a T-shirt in Camden town market while I was at university in London, which had an equation on the front. The equation was this:
chicken + balloon = ?
I should have bought the T-shirt, because I spent the rest of the day thinking up daft answers as to what you might get if you combined a chicken with a balloon. My first year of art school was in 1999-2000, so I guess for ten years I’ve still been thinking up daft answers as to what you might get if you combined a chicken with a balloon! I’m afraid the answer wasn’t on the label. I did check.
There is one saying that the cure for sea-sickness is to go and stand under a tree! What then, is the cure for home-sickness at sea? When a crew mate is sea sick, I know what to do. In every long passage that I have done this year, at least one person has been pretty sick. I can read the signs, I know the drugs that work and the food which will stay down (although Dora in September, did surprise me by only managing to keep down Colombian-style chicken soup: potato and chicken on the bone boiled to a watery broth).
Home-sickness at sea, however, is out of the realm of my experience, since I usually go to sea with sailors who like me, like being at sea. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends and family very much. I miss them too. My primary reservation in not partaking in this race, was that I had just spent 3 months at sea delivering a cat from Cape Town to Abu-Dhabi through the Somalian pirate gauntlet and I wanted to spent Christmas at home. I am also aware and guilty of what my parents endure when I go off on my crazy missions. But then my family isn’t my created family. And as Mick tried to explain to me, that’s very different.
So the inter-personal situation onboard hasn’t really changed since our mutual outpouring, however much of a relief if was to pour out! It is possible that we may never really understand each other and communicate properly. At least in keeping the airways open, we might function better as a crew. Note how our daily mileage improves when we do. I suspect what will happen is that Mick will turn to his wife more (which is to be encouraged anyway) and find solace with her. Maybe if Mick draws the cabin hatch shut he can have a private conversation in there. As for me? I have ‘Thomas the Tank Engine Night Train’ stuck in my head thanks to my brother adding music to my Ipod! ‘See how the night sky glows…all down the track he blows, wooho-whoo.’ I have my moments, mostly finger-related yelps of pain and quiet tearful breakdowns as to why they’re not getting any better.
At sunrise yesterday the SW breeze picked up as forecast and the route down the silvery highway that had been lit through the night by the moon, began to become inaccessible. The sea, which had been flat and gently undulating was now rushing off to the NW like a surge of speed-walking office workers heading for rush-hour at Waterloo. In the light SW’lies of the night, we had at best been able to row Westerly. With a stronger SW’ly we could only hold NW and this was in ’square-rigger mode,’ with the rudder pinned hard over to act as a counter force to the breeze to keep the boat moving 100-120 degrees off the wind. In Open class boats and Class 40 racing sail boats, you stack all your gear (sails, food, tools, people) to the windward side. This helps to flatten the boat which is healing over due to the pressure of the wind. A flatter boat offers less wetted surface area of resistance and so is, in theory faster. I’ve found that “stacking” also works on a 23ft ocean rowing boat, except that there isn’t much to stack! There are only two items of movable ballast and those are me or Mick and the liferaft! When Mick was seasick, I moved the liferaft inboard by 3/4ft and this worked very effectively at helping us to hold our course in ’square-rigger mode’ (100-120 degrees off the wind, with the rudder pinned). Yesterday, I moved the liferaft right into the center to much success. In truth, we had ourselves a method of riding out the adverse weather. The question then, was whether this cost us too many miles to the north in side-ways drift and whether it was bearable.
Colour of the day: brilliant white; seas 1-2ft becoming 10-12.
This blog was delivered via satellite phone using GMN’s XGate software with airtime sponsored by Wintron Electronics US
In case you dot watchers think we are strike I just thought I wouldlet you know that due to ‘adverse weather’ we are unable to row in theright direction and are sitting here going relatively nowhere (apart from I suspect slightly backwards) with our para(chute) aanchor out.
Theweather changed on Weds morning ahead of forecast so that strong winds were blowing us North, we percevered for most of the day rowing across the wind and swell, however at about 5pm Iwas rowing and we were hit by two large waves causing the oars to slam down on my thighs and we madfethe decision that the very smalll gains we were making towards Antigua (1 mile in six hours!) were not worth the effort of continuing to row.
We put the para anchor out whichkeeps the nose of the boatinto wind. Inorder to do so you have to deploy it from the front of thboat, and from there as the boat turned into wind I got a really good viw of the monster waves that were coming towards us. As they rushed towards the boat and we slid ionto the dip before them the top of the waves towerd some 20-25 deet above us. You coul=d see the light shing through the top portion of the waves as it filled our view blotting oout the sky. The boat would then rise steeply up the front of wave and after pausing slightly at the top go thundering down the reverse side.
The parachute anchor is a fabric underwater parachutre that when released from the bow of the boat opens up under water. As the boat is pushed backwards by the wind andwaves on the other end of 50m of rope the parachute fills wirth water and acts as resistance in theory stoipping the boat going backwards. In reality we lose some ground but far les than ifwe had to turn and go with te weatheer.
We then rewtired to our very small cabin for the night. With one person there isjust enough space to sdpread out and sleep comfortabnly but with two it is very cramped and difficult to remain comfortable for hours on end particularlly as the boat is constantly moving.
This morning after nearly 123 hours in a confined space I ventured out and sat on deck with my waterproofs on . This made a werlcome change from lying with constant back ache in the cabin. The weather itsdelf is quite warm and although there are the occasional rain showers the sky is blue ands the sun shining. If the wind was blowing the opposkite direction we would rowing with it, theonly probkem, we have is that we are not strong enough to row againsty it. The fortecast is that the condiotions will remian lie this until Sunday however we are hopeful that as the adverse weather arrived 24-48 hours it will blow through quicker. We are trying not get frustrated by things andknow that it was likely tha we would be inthis position at some stage in our trip.
Keep following our prrogress and pray that that red dot does not slide tooo far back.
A cruising yacht with its jib poled out, was making a b-line for us. Mick was as animated as I had seen him, since, well, the last time a yacht passed us by and as soon as he’d passed me the oars, did a flurry of things to get ready. Unfortunately, this one wasn’t responding to VHF and with its deck light on to illuminate it’s sails, I assumed the crew were down below. Mick was sorely disappointed.
At the change-over for the next watch, Mick seemed to have run out of steam. He confessed that he was so tired that he had contemplated lashing off the oars and curling up in the foot well with a blanket. I spent my watch churning over what to do. Should we for go the race and try a more ‘cruisy mode,’ taking swims and time off?
Two hours of my first two and half hour off-watch were spent servicing the sliding-seat carriage. Another wheel bearing had gone in the night, which over the course of 3.5 hours becomes unbearable -it’s like sliding over gravel. This set had lasted longer and I thought I had fixed the cause. Perplexing. I serviced the spare while I was at it and it’s the spare sliding-seat carriage that seems to be working fine right now. Despite stripping all the wheels and washers off; turning the wheels by hand and cleaning the lot, there still seems to be a problem with one of the wheels on the primary carriage. I have one idea left, but it is still a loosing battle. These wheels are simply not designed to be ridden at the seat height we’re using and when the weather is rough, the ride up and down the slide is hardly even.
The Mick-with-sea-legs is fine most of the time, but the intense fix-it jobs and ferreting around to get things still makes him nauseous, so it goes without saying that these jobs are mine.
Mick’s wife called back around 2pm. I was on the oars. They shared a very emotional conversation which ran on 20 minutes into my off watch. Clearly it was a much needed conversation, so this was no bother. Even my legs were shaking when the conversation was finally over. It is funny how on a 23ft boat, you can pull each other emotionally up or down. Mick obviously apologised for being late and I said no matter and then asked him what I could do to make things better. At this point there was an outburst of emotion. He had come to the realization that he is terribly homesick, but said that the reason he was ’strangely emotional’ was my fault, because all his emotions were being pent up. He feels that I am hard shelled and unemotional, which obviously I feel is very unfair. Once the conversation became calmer, we established the following:
1. That we do not really know each other.
2. That we are not friends.
2. That we perpetually mis-understand each other.
We then discussed our options:
1. One or other of us get off and the other continue rowing. Since the boat is Mick’s, I assumed that would mean that I was the one to get off.
2. We retire from the race and erect some kind of sail to expedite our arrival in Antigua.
3. We give each other a period of probation (Mick’s idea, obviously!).
4. We learn to live with each other and endeavour to become friends.
Naturally, having come this far, neither of us are in favour of options 1 to 3. We also talked about our committment to those who have supported the campaign.
Since we are both in the same boat (!), here’s what we agreed as the way forward:
1. To have a talking session everyday while I cook.
2. If something is said by one, that is (mis)understood as an unkind statement by the other (which seems to be easily done, between two tired people rowing 12 hours per day in 30 degree heat), that any grievance be stated immediately and not stored to be used as evidence later.
3. To hug once a day. My idea. Infact the only two hugs Mick and I have ever shared were initiated by me, which is why I felt to unjustly accused.
The digits are on the mend, although they are still more use as a unit in oar pulling than they are effective at being fingers. I stopped using the Ibuprofen gel several days ago when I was made aware that the Ibuprofen gel was put onboard especially for Mick’s back. (Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…)
Colour of the day – Cadbury’s purple