In my blog earlier I said that we were concerned about the daily weather text that we received from the race organisers today saying that thankfully a storm had missed the whole fleet and that we were to expect winds from the West, N/West and S/West this week up to 20 knots. This alarmed us as it effectively would mean that we could not row and would have to go on para anchor again.

Shortly after I posted the blog a second tect arrived from an embarrassed race controller stating that they had meant N/East, East and S/East. This is excellent news for us and the rest of the fleet as these winds push us towards Antigua. I think there might be a few drinks owed in Antigua for the consternation this caused!

On a separate note I was half way through my 6-9pm GMT shift (it was still daylight due to time difference) when a dolphin suddenly leapt out of the water approx. 30 feet from the starboard side of the boat. It leapt fully out the water rolled onto it’s back in mid-air and landed tail first looking directly at me. It was approx 5 feet in length and light grey in colour. It then swam off diagonally away from the boat surfacing every now and again. A few minutes later I saw 4 more dolphins swimmimg the opposite and parallel course to us, as if to meet up with the first dolphin. It was as if the first one had left the group to check us out and was going back to report to his mates.

As I am typing Lia has just told me that it appears the dolphins have returned and are swimimng near the boat in the same direction. They are difficult to see as it is now dark.

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We quickly got back into the rythmn of rowing yesterday and with what little breeze there was started the still not insubstantial row towards Antigua. The weather has been very hot since yesterday amd with only the smallest of breezes to keep us cool. 3 hour rowing became a sweaty business. (cabin temperature is 32 degrees as I write and rising so not much relief there). Despite this we have managed to keep up a good mileage particularly as cooler conditions set in overnight (still in the the mid 20’s). In the 20 hours until early this afternoon we had covered 47 miles so hopefully a 50 plus mile day. We are now below 600 miles with the GPS reading 597 miles to go at 14.30. We just pray that the wind direction does not change in the next 2 week and stays towards Antigua rather than the westerlies of  last week.

I was disapointed to see that England lost to Ireland in the 6 Nations and am awaiting match reports today to see what went wrong. I was also disappointed to see that Leicester Tigers lost to Northampton Saints as well. Being a Leicester fan living in Northamptonshire I am probably better being out here away from the usual crowing of Saints fans whenever they beat Tigers. I just remind them of how much silverware Tigers have in their cabinet compared to Saints. I am sure there will be one or two email comments to make up for it. Not sure of the other scores for the 6 nations so don’t know how England will fare in the table overall.

We received a confusing text from the race organisers re the next weeks weather saying words to the effect of ‘good news storm going to miss fleet. 5 days of wind from W,NW and SW..’ It is good news for a storm to miss us but 5 days of wind from the W,NW or SW would put us on para-anchor again. We are trying to clarify this through our weather sources

Not much else to report really apart from last night there was a full moon and the intensity of it was almost like rowing in daylight such a contrast from a week ago when nthere was no moon at all. The downside is that it obscures 90 % of the stars so makes the sky less interesting although we did have a beautiful moon rise last night with the light from it reflecting continuously in a line from the horizon top the boat. I even managed to get a good picture of it. The other interesting thing is that moon rise/set and sunset/rise occur at the same time. so if you look East you see a beautiful moonrise in yellow tones whereas at the same time you look West you see a fantastic orange/red sunset.

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It has been a funny 24 hours, but at least we are back on the road again and scoring off the miles. Early evening last night, the wind dropped off completely and Mick and I looked at each other. ‘Let’s go for it!’ We agreed. Although we had both spotted the big squall looming on the horizon, we had a para-anchor out with no trip line on it (I should have taught Mick the bowline) and if the wind were to fill in, even from a favourable direction, getting the chute in might be difficult to say the least, if not impossible. The last thing either of us wanted to do was to have to cut it away.
Mick hauled it in hand over hand, while I took up the slack. Within a few minutes, the green and yellow fabric fish was billowing just under the water beside us. It was upside-down and deployed, so the haul was likely to have taken as much effort as Mick said it did! On request, I took some shots of the chute looking like an open umbrella, before we bundled the sopping wet fabric back onboard.

While Mick rowed and I finished coiling all the para-anchor lines, Mick’s bird- the white bellied one with the long fine tail and yellow beak- began squawking. Mick thought it was the squeak of the plastic gates, which is not uncommon, but it was definitely the bird. It had never squawked before. Mick thought it was a good omen, but there was a tone of urgency in the bird’s call. Anyway, I got boiling some freeze-dried while we managed to dodge the majority of the rain by rowing right through the middle of the squall. Unfortunately on the other side of it, where the sun shone its last rays, there wasn’t the glassy undulating surface we had hoped for, but waves ribbing out of the West with a building 15kt blow to go with them. I readied myself for a nap before it was my turn on the oars, but I could see there was no point continuing. As Mick pressed the pilot controls to edge our course even further south, I gestured hand-slicing neck and made a guttural sound. Cut. Within 15 minutes we were back on the anchor and I noted the GPS position. Mick had rowed us one mile towards the finish. Hurrah!

While our anchor retrieval timing was definitely spot-on, I was so frustrated when we were forced to stop again. ‘I feel SO frustrated!’ I said out loud through gritted teeth, to Mick. Frustration was usually Mick’s bag when it came to our para-anchor sittings. For me, they were usually a blessing I dared not admit to. The first time enabled me to recover the use of my fingers and lie around like a corpse. The second time I just fancied a day off and this recent time both of us were pretty knackored. ‘Why do you feel frustrated?’ Mick asked, playing the part of the relationship I wish we’d had from the beginning. ‘Because I felt that we moved too soon, even though getting the anchor in then was the right decision. Moving off into a squall as dark and angry as that one went against my sense of seamanship. Then when the wind didn’t die off, I just felt that the whole thing reeked of ‘I told you so.” ‘I know what you mean said Mick.’

I took the cabin first, since Mick was still in foulies and a couple of hours of fitful sleep passed by. Purposefully overdressed, I actually slept better on deck with my head wedged between the liferaft and the oars and my hips cushioned by my dry bag of clothes over the water-tight Henderson hatches! I even managed to doze through two torrential downpours, while dreaming odd scenes with familiar people. I registered the first drenching, enough to tuck my knees up over the rowing rails and onto the snack box. This took my feet out of the sluicing gunnel where I might have confirmed that rainwater was pooling, if I had bothered to open my eyes! My feet were nicely ensconced in SealSkinz waterproof socks, so it was no matter only that damp quickly leads to a chill. The second downpour seemed to come in through the gap between my chin and my hood, which was annoying, but fortunately Musto have thought of this and added a nice fabric flap which velcro’s across. This leaves only a fine letterbox opening for the eyes/air. So, I closed the flap and went back to sleep! They say there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad equipment. Musto’s MPX Ocean Smock is one fabulous piece of kit.

In the course of the night, we gained a further mile towards Antigua! This time, I had set us off on the other “para-tack,” so to have achieved forward motion while heading south as desired, finally proved the success of the “forward-moving para-technique.” It was our weather-wizard friend (and distinguished RTW sailor), Larry Rosenfeld, who came up with the “square-rigger” concept for optimal performance rowing. I then developed this into “square-rigger mode” for heavy weather rowing. Likewise, it was Larry who pushed me to keep developing a “forward-moving para-technique” and to continue thinking of the boat as a sailing boat, albeit without any sails! In the course of our one day on anchor, where I messed about with a bridle, we lost many miles. While I didn’t get a chance to experiment with the bridle lengths and so cannot rule out the possibility completely, the bridle did clearly offer us beam into the wind and so increase our drag and windage. The “forward-moving para-technique” on the other hand is far simpler. There are only two variables: the side on which the anchor is deployed, where the ‘gear’ (trip line, bow strop retrieval line) is tied off and the position of the rudder. I am reluctant to say anything more until the race is over, but judging by our 16 mile gain, 4 of which were on the other “para-tack” heading south as desired, I’m confident it works!

Mood colour of the day – English Cox apple juice ocher, seas 1-2ft.
Food fantasy of the day – see mood colour!

19.40 GMT 27th February
Barometer1013
Wind NE 5 or less.

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We spent all day ysterday watching the weather waiting for it to turn to match the forecast, but it was not to be. We remained in a SW to W wind until about 7.30 pm when the wind from the west dropped to nothing and the sea flattened out. We decided to give rowing a go as the forecast predicted low winds which then moved round to the North and North East.

Pulling the para-anchor in was no easy task as I mentioned yesterday the retrieval line that attaches to the top end of the parachute had come undone. Normally pulling the retrieval line pulls the top of the anchor so it deflates and it is then dragged in backwards so it closes up, making it a relatively easy job to pull in. With no retrieval line I had to pull on the main rope which put pressure on the anchor to stay open. Therefore I was trying to drag a parachute 9 feet wide under water towards the boat. The theory being the harder you pull the greater the resistance. (Our anchor is designed to stop a 40 foot yacht in a storm so you can see the forces involved). The way you would normally counter this is to row towards the anchor taking in the slack. Lia took the oars and I started to heave on the line. Within a few strokes it became apparent that our anchor went virtualy straight down into the depths of the ocean rather being played out in front of the boat so this technique was not going to work. There was nothing else for it than for me to heave on the line with all my weight and strength whilst Lia pulled the tail of the rope behind locking it off after each successive haul.

I found it was virtually impossible to haul the anchor in consistently but as the boat moved up and down in the swell pulled in when the boat went down and locked off when it came up. With 50 metres of line this was a slow tiring and painful business, I can still feel it in my arms today. Eventually a fully inflated 9 feet wide circle of green and yellow nylon appeared from the deep blue depths virtually beneath the boat. As I pulled on the line I could see the parachure taking the strain and expanding opening wider against he pull, as I eased off it contracted slightlymaking it look like some oversize upside down jelly fish pulsating in the water.

Job done, we packed the anchor away and I started rowing. Adam the Tropic Bird then flew past who in the past I have taken as a good omen however this time he was crying out with a high pitched squak. After an hours rowing and 2 squalls I had done 1 mile West in an hour and 2 miles south. We decided it was not worth the energy rowing and redeployed the para-anchor making sure the retrieval line. secured again and settled down for the night again.

As we were swapping over in the night I had just gone on deck when I heard a very regular clicking noise, after a while it faded then a few minutes later came back this time much louder resonating through the hull of the boat. We then heard the distinctive blowing of whales breathing nearby. We then saw 3 indistinct objects making phosporesence trails approx 30 feet from our starboard side.  The moon shone on the back of 3 shiny dark objects making it appear that two large green eyes were looking at you which was initially very odd, like some mythical sea creature. As they came closer to the boat you could see these were 3 medium sized whales possibly large pilot whales or some other type we had not seen before.

Just after dawn at 09.30 GMT the wind had dropped again and what little there was was coming from the North and we commenced rowing again this time with more success. Lia reported the return of the good omen bird during her shift this time remaining quiet. Maybe last night he trying to tell us not to row and stay on para-anchor..we’ll never know but his appearances are frighteningly coincidental with key moments on the boat.

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What time does morning begin? Midnight? For me, the definition between one day and the next has become fuzzy. ‘Today’s’ blogs are sent at 2 in the morning, your time GMT; I often wear my sun hat well after dark and am forever oiled in suncream. Sometimes in jest, I call it my moon hat and moon cream. What is time anyway? The only time that really matters on board is IKEA time, the time which denotes when your watch is up! IKEA time is governed by the indomitable cheap IKEA clock, which despite having had most of its perspex face smashed by stray oar handles, continues to champion the hours.

“This morning” when my cabin time was up, I rallied to my tasks. In light of our recent health and safety warning of possible infringed hygiene, I did not want to leave anything off the check list and so decided to change the micron filter in the watermaker. Having had lots of dealings with Spectra Watermakers located in poky holes, I was not overly thrilled to begin about this self-appointed undertaking . However, Mick had re-installed the machine and the filter cartridge was pleasingly accessible. I didn’t even need to take apart the autopilot setup to gain hand room.
The filter stank of plankton (fishiness), as any paper product that had had sea water passed through it for 8 weeks would. However, the paper was not discoloured and the raw water strainer further up the line was empty. This was all good news and after some minutes of wondering why the new micron filter in its freshly cleaned cartridge was blowing bubbles, I discovered that the raw water strainer cartridge was not threaded tightly enough. Job done: water was being desalinated by reverse osmosis and task two could be commenced.

If the destruction tally is 4 black wheels and 4 white wheels and Mick switched out one of them, then basic maths tells us that I must have played miniature mechanic 7 times so far this trip. Of course the tally of the eight wheels totaled does not take into the account the wheels that had begun to rattle, grind or stick, the ones which were on the way out and caught just in time, the ones which were deemed ‘iffy’ which were also swpoped out and put in a separate bag. Those making up the semi-destruction tally are 1 black, 3 white and a seemingly okay rusty 4th white. Since this leaves only 3 good, brand new black wheels, I decided that both carriages ought to carry the same black wheels with the same washer configuration (being several mill thinner, the white wheels carry an extra washer for extra confusion). The 4 black wheels with 5 slim M5 penny washers on the inside and another on the inside of the nut- configuration seems to have become the winning formula. At least, for several days now, we haven’t heard the death knoll of another bearing on its way to semi or total destruction. I am so bored of playing miniature mechanic as I expect you might be of hearing about it! On the plus side, I can now boast being both proficient and fast. I know my miniature wheels bearing washer and nut configurations! Oh joy. Hopefully, now that we have two carriages sporting go-fast black wheels decked out in the winning formula, this might be the end of my days as a miniature mechanic. If I really have got it right, after a mere 2000 nautical miles of experimentation, we might even be able to use both carriages and row across the finish together. Wonders may never cease.

Next up on the to-do list was to say hi to the fishes, sorry clean the hull. The Mick report came back swiftly saying that the water was cold and that the bottom was clean! What? I decided that this needed a second opinion. Untethered, I lept into the deep blue and hooked my arm over the rope rail, which like on a lifeboat runs around the external periphery of the hull. Mick was right! There was not a mollusk in sight, nor sadly, was there a Yellow Fin tuna. In our diversion north, they must have deserted us. ‘Well, we’re not going up North!’ Cries must have gone out among the group. ‘It’s too wet and cold!’ I wondered if there was a sign somewhere in the depths, labeled ‘THE NORTH’ like on the motorway in England. But ‘Dream Maker’s’ underbelly wasn’t devoid of all life. The fish family that were just infants last week, were all present and correct. ‘You survived!’ I thought with delight, followed by ‘My haven’t you grown!’ By now, they were nearly all fully-fledged. The ones which were larger last week were larger still and like a tribal leader the largest swam over directly to greet me. Bold as brass, he swam right up to my mast and peered at me sideways. His most distinguishing feature was his pupil which wasn’t round but an hour-glass in jet black, set in a silvery bead. His body was round with a shrilly fin and small fan tail. His look said ‘This is my patch,’ but by the time he got closer and had taken in all of me, he seemed to change his mind and backed off. ‘I knew you when you were just a baby!’ I wanted to retort.

The ‘Hoover’ creature was also still alive! This should have come as no surprise, seeing as there was not a growth to be found. He wasn’t glued to the side of the hull and wriggling along like a plaice this time. Infact, now that there was no pack of giant Yellow Fin tuna lurking below, he was swimming about. His piercing green eye didn’t make him look as fearful today, but he still managed to give me the evil eye. ‘You are a real character!’ I thought. The ‘Hoover’ creature turned his back with attitude and wriggled off in the direction of the bow. I took some photos of them all with the para-anchor line in the background stretching into the depths. Then I got out and in my weekly hair wash, tried to turn my hair back into a normal pelt that felt silky and smooth and less like an industrial office carpet.

‘What ever you are not doing, keep not doing it!’ Was the message from Jenny & Paul during our first para-anchor period, when we inadvertently managed to gain on our competitors. The same message could be recycled now, as we have shed 16 miles towards the finish and managed to put ‘Red Arrow’ back behind us. The short coming is that we are super far north. Right now the sky is a line of squalls and one by one, they are dropping off their rain. The waves have flattened and the wind has extinguished, switching from SW/WSW to NW if anything. The “change waves” are back, that all-too familiar dancing chop of unidirectional water. Anything could happen. My list is done and now there is only sleep and chocolate to be had! Let’s hope we’re on our way soon…

19.00 GMT 26th Feb.
Post-squall W’ly, less than 5kts
Barometer 1011.

Mood colour of the day – Delft china blue, seas 2-4ft
Food fantasy of the day – mixed greens with soft, warm goat’s cheese, walnuts and a light vinegrette.

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It is 16.30 GMT and we have now spent just under 2 days (40 hrs) on the para-anchor. Our latest weather file shows the wind should round to the NW and then N this evening and maybe should have already done so. The wind however is still blowing obstinately from SW. Most people when offered the opportunity to do very little for a couple of days would welcome the opportunity but here out on the ocean we have a race to finish, we are so near to getting toAntigua (relatively) but so far away as we cannot move at all. One consolation is that we have moved 16 miles North in this time our GPS shows 670 miles to go.

I had a difficult and frustrating night not able to sleep well outside as I was the previous night. Also the headphones on my Ipod are starting to breakdown. They are getting quieter and quieter making audio books difficult to listen to. I asssume it is the effect of the damp salt air corroding the small speakers as the wires seem OK. It is difficult to try and remain positive and upbeat and I find myself feeling quite depressed at times. I try to occupy myself by doing little jobs or sleeping when it is my turn in the cabin. There are very few places to get and remain comfortable apart from lying down and even that in 30 degree heat is often not pleasant.

Thankfully I am able to absorb myself in my book and try and forget the interminable waiting. I keep telling myself that in 15 – 20 days we will be in Antigua and looking back at this as a small part in a long journey. It helps sometimes. I have just finished the first book in the Bourne Trilogy, The Bourne Identity and immediately started the next book, The Bourne Supremacy, in order to keep my self occupied. Book reading is not helped by the lack of a comfortable place to sit and the movement of the boat and I seem to get constant back ache.

The para -anchor retrieval line which we use to deflate the para acnchor in order to pull it in has become detached so we may have to manually haul the boat up to the anchor against the wind to get it in if we can. We took a dip a while go to clean the bottom of the boat and found that our Tuna friends have deserted us. There are however several very small fish that cling closely to the bottom of the boat and we presume feed off it, as the bottom of the boat was cleaner than when we last cleaned it a week ago, which is good. As I swam by the boat I could see the main line to the para anchor dropping steeply down into the dark blue water which is strange as it normally comes nearer the surface, this may be the effect of not having the floating line attached and also why we may be still moving slowly West as the anchor may be in the slightly deeper prevailing currents

We are both desperate to get going again and hope the the weather files are right and that we get a change tonight. Thank you all for your continued messages of support. Special thanks to Jo Milborne and Rupert and Fiona Paul for their envelopes of quotes, poems and jokes we’ve had a good time reading them especially the Ronnie Barker spoonerisms.

Hopefully next blog we will be moving again and if anyone has a teleport and wants to swap places nows your time!

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The only thing missing were the champagne flutes on a silver tray, next to the bowl of freshly cut strawberries, delivered by a waiter with white gloves… that’s what I wanted to write! Unfortunately the idea of getting mildly inebriated on the half-way-celebration champagne, while munching on NASA’s finest space Neapolitan freeze-dried icecream (we have two packets onboard) didn’t appeal to Mick. I did not fancy drinking alone. My logic was that sleeping on deck over 3 Henderson hatch covers while getting mildly sluiced by water ingressing in and out of the gutters, might then be that much more bearable! Nevermind. There will be plenty of time for the fizzy stuff at the end. It would probably not agree with my mouth ulcers anyway.

Since our first period of going nowhere, backwards even, while stuck on the para-anchor, we have gotten a lot better at accepting our plight. Last night it was becoming clear that we were making far too many miles to the north, versus miles to the west and that it was time to throw out the chute. At that point Mick was already settled in the cabin and not keen on sharing it! ‘Whether I sleep in there or on deck doesn’t matter. Either way, I’m going to sleep!’ I said. In full foulies, I tried curling up in the foot well, but really wanted to stretch out. I tried sitting up at the bow, but the motion was exaggerated. Then I squeezed myself between the spare oars and the liferaft, cleared the detritus of snacks and drinks bottles and lay down. With two round water tight Henderson hatch covers to wriggle around, I wouldn’t describe it as comfy. Still, a couple of fitful hours of sleep were managed. Eventually I woke up with ice blocks for feet, feeling very damp and distinctly cold.
I was a little better equipped for my second stint sleeping on deck and with waterproof socks on and using my dry bag full of clothes as a cushion for my hips, slept significantly better.

During the day, we got on with our usual para-anchor chores, namely cleaning. We had wanted to sterilize the drink bottles and scrub the decks the day before and were in fact wondering how we would find the time! Mick took care of the deck, while I de-scummed the cabin. I even fitted in some nail cutting and personal grooming. Mick however, has decided to leave trimming the face fur until nearer the end. I will make sure that there are plenty of photos before he does so. His beard is a brilliant sprouting of 3 tones (black, white and brown) in varying lengths. I am particularly fond of the side panels! Initially, when he had a complete covering I thought it made him look “softer,” “wiser” even, the impression of an impoverish scholar. Now the look is much more gypsy allotment-keeper!

With the luxury of time, I allowed my usual 15 minutes of sunnysiding to extend to 30. Sitting down is still something of a sore point and I continue to sleep on my tummy. If you see a girl walking around with a cushion in Antigua, you’ll know it’s me! Later on, I used my digital camera’s macro function to inspect progress. The sores are quite curious to look at, certainly like nothing I’ve ever seen! Now a healthy pink with concentric rings around them, they really are the human version of chafe. I simply wore out my bottom!

It’s 01.30 GMT now and the breeze has finally clocked round to the WNW and is beginning to lie down. Where we are, it is expected to continue round to the N/NE and die out altogether in the early hours of February 27th. With luck, we shall then be back on our way pulling those final 670 miles to the finish – where hopefully the champagne in chilled flutes on a silver tray, next to a bowl of freshly cut strawberries and the waiter with white gloves, all await us.

Mood colour of yesterday – translucent chili oil red, seas 4ft.
Food fantasy of yesterday – wood stove, thin crust pepperoni pizza!

Mood colour of today – Marmite black, seas 3-4ft.

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With the race in full flow and the competitors entering something near the home strait then everyone stops dead still for two days! In what other sport does this happen?

As you may have guessed we have been forced onto the para-anchor for the 3rd time in the race. By 10pm last night we were making no miles towards Antigua and being blown North by the the strong South Westerley breeze. We had hoped that we may escape the worst as the system according to our weather maps was light and would go through quickly. However the weather is never predictable and forecasts only that. We have had Southerly winds for most of the day which have moved round to SW this afternoon and this evening WSW. The winds are then forecast to move round to the North then NE hopefully in the next 24 hours when we will be able to row again.

Because we found the cabin cramped and uncomfortable for two when previously on anchor we decided to take shifts on deck roughly mirroring our rowing shifts. Not so bad in the day although it can be very hot but at night trying to find a comfortable place to sit/sleep on the deck is difficult to say the least. Dream Maker is designed for one thing on deck and that is rowing. There are no clear pieces of deck that do not have sharp or painful hatches to rest against.

When it was my turn for outside duty I found that I could sit down in the bottom of the small cockpit in front of the cabin by wedging my back on one side and knees on ther other. The cockpit is partly covered by the steering foot plate we use to row with and at 3 feet square is a tight fit. Dressed in waterproofs I hunkered down in the hole and switched on the Ipod. I scrunched up my spare coat and fleece on my left arm which was wedged on the top of the adjacent locker to make a sort of pillow and began to wait it out. To my surprise the position stayed ‘relatively’ comfortable and was astonished to find that I actually slept, albeit in fits and starts. 4 hours later we swapped. Lia preferring the option of lying down on the side deck in her waterproofs and trying to pad out all the sharp edges, hatches etc.

So apart from getting frustrated and a little depressed what do you do on a 24 foot space stuck 700 miles from land, of corse you guesed it, we did the cleaning!

Lia got to work this afternoon cleaning and reorganising our small cabin. This sounds easy but is less so due to the amount of things (clothes, waterproofs, tools etc) that are either kept in mesh sidepockets on the cabin wall or in lockers below the sleeping area under the mattresses. This afternoon I repeated my actions of the last para anchor episode by sterilising our drinks bottles etc. I then scrubbed the side decks and gave the poo bucket a much needed clean to remove’ skid marks ‘as the end of the loo brush we had brought with us for this task came off and floated away in the water some 3 weeks or more ago.

The rest of the day was spent trying not to look at the clock and for me reading my book the Bourne Trilogy, the 3 novels by Robert Ludlum that have recently been so successful as films. The Bourne Identity, Supremacy and Ultimatum. It is a reallygood read however the only down side is that all 3 booksare in one volume which is really heavy to hold especially when trying to get comfortable on an ocean rowing boat.Only another 1000 or so pages to go so if the weather doen’t change I’m OK for reading material.

So far we have gained a few miles towards Antigua whilst on anchor, this is the effect of either the prevailing current pulling the anchor along or windage on the boat trying to sail us and pulling against the para anchor therefore resulting in a small forward motion. We have however drifted quite a way North which we will try and eliminate when the wind changes to NE pushing us back South.

The system is not forecast to last to long and we hope to be back rowing maybe tomorrow or Friday but as we are all becoming aware this is not certain until it happens.

Please send us your news, jokes etc as they are a great way of distracting us and lifting our spirits.

Two belated birthday wishes. Happy 50th to John Milborne, hope you have a great party at the weekend sorry I can’t be with you, will need to make up for it on my return! Secondly Happy Birthday to my sister Katie for yesterday, thanks for your messages of support it’s good to know you are all watching. Special hello to Owen and Luke.

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Day 51 (24th Feb) was always supposed to be a mere 5-10 days from the end, or if we’d rowed really hard and were up there with the front runners, THE END. This years (last year’s) Woodvale Atlantic Rowing Race 2009 has turned into an epic. Slowly, one by one, all my employment engagements are sliding, replacements sought. I have a Barcelona World Race campaign to organize and unhelpfully, I’m stuck in the Atlantic. Resigned to 700 miles worth of further incarceration, life as I knew it seems so far away; reality so distant. Rowing has become the daily grind.

In spite of our very different approaches to well, everything, Mick and I are getting along fine- not great, but fine. We don’t see eye to eye on most things, but by now we have found a way to thrash things out and resolve with a mutually amicable decision or solution. I could furnish you with numerous examples of our bristlings, but actually they’re inconsequential now. Perhaps we care less too, the miles are counting down and there is an end, relatively, within sight.

The need for sleep has become more pressing. When my head hits my damp, salty pillow, I pass out cold and sleep deeper. Mick has become religious about wearing his chest harness at night, having dozed off momentarily at the oars on more than one occasion and fallen off his perch! At a guess, I would say that both of us are not far off physical exhaustion. It’s just a matter of managing it.

My chores today were supplemented with the need to clean the cockpit/foot well area. Hair and food particles are the least offensive accumulators. It is the beige soap slime that builds up around the edges. The place had become truly disgusting. My standards are pretty low offshore, but after ten days of shower and bottom-washing and food preparation all in the same area, I was even willing to sacrifice sleep in order to better the environment. My efforts came a moment too late, as Mick had already abandoned the oars once to make a swift and rather unexpected visit to the bucket. (He’s alright now after resorting to Anita’s homeopathic medical kit for a clogging pill appropriately named ‘Ars!’) What with eating snacks well past their best-before date and tasting of fiberglass and our drinks bottles and cutlery sitting out in the baking sun, never receiving a proper dish-washer rinse, our 23ft island, ‘Dream Maker’ has become a breeding ground for germs and bacteria. Aware that our immune systems are tired, we now both have a cup and bucket wash each day. We also switched the oars over with the spares, since we were both getting itchy rashes under our knees (when you rest for a drink, the safest and easiest place to hold the oars is under your knees). It’s all becoming rather grim.

The rowing when it was light the other day, was sticky and arduous. When you stopped for a drink, the boat ground to a halt and so to get her going again required a big heave. This experience has become so sinuous with light air conditions, that I completely omitted mentioning it. When you lay down to rest you could feel it at every joint, my fingers stiffening, blotching red and white and suffering the worst. Then when we had our record 63 miler 24 hours, the rowing was swift and lush, the oars plunging smoothly into the water, each pull gentle on body and spirit. ‘How is it?’ I would ask Mick as I emerged from the hatch and readied myself for watch. I have come to love such easy miles.
Yesterday when the wind clocked round to the south and picked up to 15kts +, we began to fight. Our ideal course was 288 degrees magnetic, but slowly this was becoming unattainable. Rowing through waves is very ineffectual and a crawl. As the beam rides up the crest, there is no water to sink the windward oar into. At the wave’s peak, the boat tips over loosing her balance. Then the windward oar gets plunged hard into the water. The result is that the rowing is brutal: knees get tugged; legs wrenched against ankles; wrists flicked and elbows yanked. Sometimes a jolt is sent down your whole arm, testing a shoulder socket. When the boat rocks, your body moves to adjust and so the back takes all the strain on one side, then the other. When the 3 hours of grimacing is up, the other is usually quick to scarper into the cabin and fall into a coma.

So when our 15kt southerly became a 15kt+ SW’ly yesterday evening and we received a text from the boys on ‘Heritage Explorer’ saying that they were already on sea-anchor, I thought screw it. Mick was already in the cabin and so (it was my turn anyway), I fed out the yellow and green fabric jellyfish and teased out her lines. For February 24th it was game over.

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Following our highest ever daily mileage of 63 miles yesterday the wind has changed overnight to come from the South and has increased to 15 knots. This means that in order to make any progress West we have to row at 90 degrees to the oncoming waves, which is hard work. The benefit is however that we can still get 1.5-2 knots West but at the same time get pushed North by the wind. We do not want to go North but that can’t be helped. The wind is forecast to move to the SW in the next day and this will mean that we may not be able to go West at all only North, The forecast is then for the wind to move round through West and then to NE all within a few hours. Hopefuly then the NE wind will push West and South hopefully allowing us to retrieve the distance gained north today.
That is the forecast but it is any ones guess what will actually happen and when. The good news is we have covered in 21 hours today 45 miles towards Antigua with 688 to go.

Please can you continue to send your news (brief) and jokes as we find them a great distraction.

That’s it for now maybe more later.

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