It is at times like this in your life that you try and think positive . It is the one thing about the human condition that enables us with all our doubts and fears to get through difficult times. The weather as mentioned yesterday is doing it’s level best to make sure we can’t row south towards Antigua at present and the forecasts are predicting more of the same for next week. I have therefore tried to think positively about our frustrating situation.
Firstly we are still able to row West at present without drifting too far North and therefore we are closing the miles to the other side. Secondly, I look at how far we have come in our journey and the obstacles that we have overcome to get where we are. We have covered at least 2,350 Nm since leaving the Canary Islands on 4th Jan and we only have approx 350 miles to go. We have overcome the frustrations with the start being delayed for a month by adverse weather. I was sea sick for the first 5 days of the trip an experience that although now faded into the background is an experience I would not want to repeat, however during that time apart from 1 day I continued rowing. We have learnt/are learning to support each other despite our very different personalities and the fact that before Dec 6th we had not met.
We have encountered an amazing collection on wild life en-route, from the first appearance of ‘Brian’ the brown bird, through to whales (big and not so big). Then there are our friends the Yellow Fin Tuna who remained with us for about 4 weeks, what a fantastic experience to swim with a schoal of such magnificent fish when 1,000 miles from land in 3 mile deep water. In the past week there have been visits by playful dolphins and Adam the Tropic Bird wit his magnificent single tail feather. We also can’t forget the shark we spotted in the first few weeks
We have seen fantastic star scapes at night, with more stars than you could possibly imagine. We have seen shooting stars, some so bright they look like fireworks. We have rowed under skies lit by a moon so bright it feels like day light and experienced the magical experience of rowing through phosphoresence on a glass like sea, creating glittering elongated mushrooms of swirling greenish white sparks.
The spectacular sunrises/sets and moonrises/sets are almost common place but still leave us in awe of their beauty.
We have a week or so left out here and that week may be one of the most toughest (mentally and physically) we have encountered, however I am sure that amongst that hardship will be moments of magic like the ones above. Families will be waiting for us in Antigua and we deaperately wish to be with them. In 10 days time or so I will look back hopefully from land at this week and the pain and dissapointments will fade and I will be left with the good things we have encountered. I am also learning patience something those who know me know I have little of, I regularly look at the words I wrote on the cabin ceiling above where I sleep in the first weeks of the row, and know that as they say ‘This too..will pass!’
Todays row is dedicated to Oundle Rugby Football Club one of the causes we are fundraising for. Without the help support and encouragement of my good friends at the club I am sure I would never have got this project off the ground. From the help with fundraising to the encouragement given through email messages etc. since we have been out here the support of the members of the club has been fantastic. (Please see main page on website for details of the club and why we are raising money for them.)
The ‘St. Marten Heineken Regatta’ began today, on the island of Sint. Maarten, one of the Dutch Antilles, two Caribbean islands north of Antigua. The regatta has become an almost annual fixture for me, a week of sometimes terrific warm weather racing towards the end of our European winter. The regatta pulls in professional sailing friends of mine from around the globe and is often the one and only chance a year, when I see certain people. I am very sad to be missing it.
On another note, if Lloyd flew himself there and left his plane on the island, any chance of being air-dropped a pizza? A thin-crust Florentina would be divine and if you don’t mind lowering it down in a weighted box, the transit shouldn’t upset the egg or slide the spinach!
Speaking of food, I am back on the full-blown freeze-dried diet with Mick, because I was going hungry. If you double the 2000 calories of a woman’s RDA (Recommended Daily Average), you would expect to double bucket output, right? Wrong! This afternoon I had to draw the oars to make an impromptu visit to the foredeck and the output was FOUR TIMES a woman’s RDA bucket-output! For the Route du Rhum (single-handed transatlantic race), I worked with Ellen MacArthur’s nutritionist Juliet Wilson with great success. There wasn’t the time or money on this occasion.
Snacks (at the moment Green & Black’s) boost our calorific intake further. Unbelievably, I made a second visit to the bucket later! The last time NASA properly studied the effects of freeze-dried food was when their astronauts returned from the moon. I saw a documentary on colonic irrigation in 1994, about the discoveries made from those who had been sluiced- whole undigested mushrooms had come out! I have been carefully avoiding the mushrooms in the ‘Beef Ravioli with Mushrooms.’
While the act of rowing is exercise and so should move the gut, I have been debating (privately!) as to whether it also clenches the gut. Right now I have an abdominal ‘wall’ of muscles. I had a “room mate” when I lived and worked in San Diego, California, who was training to be in the ‘Cirque de Soleil.’ She had the ‘wall’ too! With her arms on a chair, she could raise her whole body until it was stretched out horizontally. At best, I can use the laptop without needing a pillow to prop me up! I have a long way to go..!
With the breeze blowing SE, SSE and at times today, S, we are rowing through wave troughs at an angle of 90-100 degrees off the wind. Our struggle to the finish continues. At times, I stifle waves of panic because we are further north than we would like to be and are having to fight our way south and because 390 miles one day seems achievable and the next day does not. We might row 47 miles today, but only be able to cover 23 miles tomorrow. The goal posts are forever shifting. Sometimes staring at the goal and willing it to stand still can make you feel sick. Airplanes are now a regular feature during the daytime sky. One today cut two white trails of puffy white, through the blue. I watched it intently, like a cat might a mouse. When the plane was directly overhead, a pale silver body with wings could be seen. It looked beautiful and I couldn’t help marvel at how insular we have become on ‘Dream Maker’ island, in our Atlantic-crossing bubble.
Mood colour of the day (4th March) – Christmas tinsel silver, seas 4-6ft.
01.30 GMT 5th March
Barometer1016
Wind SE 18kts.
Two weeks ago when we had over 1,000 miles to go, or even last week if you had asked me how I would feel with less than 400 miles to go,I would have replied ‘elated’ or ‘10 days or less to go’ or similar confident words.
Well we are there now, at 4pm today we had only 397 miles to go. Am I confident – no. Elated? -no Am I sure we will get there in 10 days or less ? – no . I guess we have a touch of the ’so near yet so far blues’.
To explain a little, we have just had some really good mileage days with strong easterly winds, however the winds have changed and are mainly out of the South East. This means we have row across the front of the oncoming waves and each stroke is difficult to pull through the water, we have managed to maintain good mileage to the West but are unable to move South very much if at all. With 397 miles to go we still need to drop South by 25 miles otherwise we will miss Antigua if not the finish line! With the forecast at the moment showing ainly SE or S/SE winds this causes us some anxiety. We don’t need much in the way of change to make up the distance South, 1 day of NE or East winds at 5-10 knots would do it, however conversely if we get strong S/SE winds we may be forced to use the paraanchor to stop us drifting even further North. Logic and experience of the vagaries of the weather on this trip, indicate that we will get a break to move south at some point but there is no guarantee.
So coming up to what we hope will be the last 10 days of the row we are less than upbeat about the next week and our arrival date particularly as our families will be in Antigua at the end of next week. We had hoped for a moderate to strong NE or E wind making good miles ech day so that we could enjoy the last few days but it looks like we will scraping and scratching for every southerly mile whilst trying to fight off our two nearest competitors.
I suppose every team must go through this process at about this time, the finishing line is in sight almost and all that mentally you envisaged is good steady rowing in predictable, favourable winds taking you easily over the line. The reality is that you are worried about position for the finish so you can hit the 1 mile long finish line, Your bodies are tired and are anticipating a rest after 9 weeks of rowing 12 hours a day. Your resistance is low and tiredness through cumulative lack of sleep is playing it’s part. We are bearing up reasonably well but the strain is starting to show on minds and bodies and we can’t wait to get there.
On the race maps for you dot watchers it will appear as if it is all over and we’ve just a final row over the finishing line. Please change your view we still have 400 arduous miles to go with at present little or no help from the wind, now is the time we need your support more than ever. Your news, jokes and best wishes have kept us going for the last 60 days so we ask that until we cross the finish line you redouble your efforts in this department. We thank you for your support so far and you can be sure we are doing our utmost to get there ASAP.
Whether it was the heat or the hard pull through stagnant water, or a combination, I feel whacked. This morning’s watch ended with the ligament in my left knee feeling like a stretched elastic band; my right shoulder constricted and my left elbow like a doctor had hit the bone with a reflex hammer. I crawled out of the cabin for my watch earlier, feeling very old. To think that next month I will be thirty! Where are the drugs when you need them? Water managed to work its way past the child lock on Mick’s pot of Ibuprofen, unfortunately, but I did discover another tube of gel quietly secreted in the Pharmacy compartment. I may begin applying it liberally! Although it is amazing how with two hours of good sleep, it is possible to revive.
The breeze filled in with gusto in the end last night, the water burbling over the oars, that familiar slushy flick of water denoting progress made. With the occasional 15ft wave spitting us forward, these are the conditions of earlier days. We daren’t complain, but with the 437 miles now to go, a more easterly or NE’ly component would be more convenient! Crossing 6-15ft seas rocks the boat, shoves ‘Dream Maker’ side-ways and sends the rower helter-skelter, oars digging in or flung skyward in a graceless dance of outstretched arms and legs. But the water is pleasurable to watch, roaming towards us with it’s perfect back-lit Quink ink blue and wrinkled Elephant skin.
It is 19.15 GMT right now, but here at 17.57 degrees North, 54.16 West, the sun is only just passed the meridian and into the early afternoon. My off-watches in particular are all over-the-place. In the early morning, I want to sleep, but if I leave making water until my next watch the sun is past it’s peak and the batteries take a wack. Preparing our freeze-dried dinners first thing in the morning, feels unnatural. Later it is too hot. It’s a good thing we will hopefully be in next week! I think I’ve had enough! Then out of the corner of my eye, I spy two large torpedo’s zooming towards our bow. ‘Mick! Dolphins!’ They’re here to join their friends. Ten or so splosh and frolic before our boat’s nose. Sitting in the rowing seat, I’m facing backwards and so have to crane my neck to see. Are you two species – the grey-faced smaller Atlantic porpoise and the large greeny Caribbean mama, or a mother-and-child play group? It was a treat to see them leaping about during the day.
So we’ve had whales and dolphins and a shark. We’ve had deck critters and Hoover creatures and families of little stripy fish and aquarium-esque fish with hour-glass pupils. For weeks, sizable Yellow Fin tuna escorted us. ‘The Brian’s’ (Atlantic Terns) have visited every single day since leaving the Canaries. White-bellied tropical birds with a yellow tail have given us the odd squawk or appeared at precipitous times and once I saw two black birds that were angular like Tera-dactyls. Mick says that James Cracknell and Ben Fogle also saw a sea turtle. Can we have one of those next please?!
Mood colour of the day – Tennis ball green, seas 6-15ft.
19.30 GMT
Barometer 1014
Wind SE 18-20kts.
In contrast to the last few frustrating becalmed days we now have some wind and lots of it. Yesterday afternoon the wind started with 5 knots from the NE and then throughout proceeded to move round to the East for 6 hours or so which was ideal for us and our course for Antigua. At 18.30 our GPs read 497 miles to go and we celebrated with a very un-English High 5.
As the night progressed the wind strengthened and moved round to the South East and by morning was at 15 – 20knots this is not ideal for us as we are getting pushed slightly back North however the big advantage is that we are going predominantly West and clocking down the miles to the finish. At midday we were at 455 miles to go meaning we had travelled 42 miles in 18 hours. All we need now is for the wind to change to the East or North east later in the week so that we can close back down south for our approach to Antigua hopefully at the nd of next week.
It is an interesting time for us emotionally on the boat as we can start to see that soon we may be arriving in Antigua however this anticipation is some what subdued as we realise that there are over 400 miles to row and that we need to make our way down to the right latitude. With families flying out within the next week there is also a pressure to coincide our arrival times with them. We are confident that we will be able to put in a strong finish and hope that the weather has no tricks in store for us in the remaining days.
Todays row is dedicated to Oundle Town Rowing Club and all its members. The club is one of the charitable causes that we are raising money for in order to allow more children to take part in rowing (see main website page). I would like to thank the members of the club for their help, assistance and perserverance during the two years that I have been preparing for the row. I also thank them for the many messages of support and encouragement to us both whilst we have been out here.
The moon crept up from behind a mass of seemingly black cloud. The sea wasn’t glass, but a perfect motionless mirror and so the moonlight cast was clear cut on the water’s surface. I pictured the scene framed in the window of a church; the light, sunlight, shining through antique yellow stained glass onto a cobbled stone floor. We fished out the video camera and on ‘night mode’ tried to capture it.
As we crossed the ‘under 500′ barrier, a little breeze filled in to help us celebrate. Mick and I gave a ‘high-five,’ laughing that thanks to the Diclofenac tablets, we could actually do such a thing painlessly! At the same time, while we continue to remind ourselves that 500 miles is still 500 miles of rowing, for me, some of the anxiety has been released.
1. We have enough pills for 13 days more of rowing. I began rationing mine before our last para-anchor stint and discovered quickly that a no-pill day quickly returned me to the agony of my former nerve-firing stick-fingers!
2. We have enough food to continue eating at our optimum calorific consumption. We have enough food for our worst case scenario. I have the luxury of 8g of chocolate per mile, which I will never been able to manage- the high cocoa content safe-guarding nicely against any possible further ‘freeze-dried’ effects!
3. We have two complete carriages with working wheels and three spares, although tomorrow this will drop down to two spares- one of the wheels has begun to rumble the ’semi-destruction’ cry.
4. We have one more bottom scrub/swim planned…
In the early evening, just before Mick wrote his ‘ode to my hat’ blog, the breeze filed in from the NE! Coming from the NE, it arrived as a special treat. We have 30 miles to sink down slowly to Antigua’s latitude (17 degrees 30) and were concerned that the SE’lies forecast in the latter part of this week (they arrived an hour ago), would lock us out. We are doing our best to match the rowing pace of the young muscles (HCL Workforce 1 – I call them the ‘beef-cakes’ although they may be a little less buff now!) and fend off ‘Red Arrow,’ but after 58 days of eating, ‘Dream Maker’ is quite a different boat. She is far more susceptible to leeway, bops around a lot more and is visibly higher out of the water. When Mick goes to sleep, I have to move the water containers to the opposite side of the boat in order for the Andy-pilot to keep us on course. Being 30% lighter than Mick, I have always been very sensitive to the location of the weight onboard and have moved stuff around as and when. Right now, Mick, me, the liferaft, the water maker and the grab bag (in that order) are the heaviest things on board! In this respect, it’s interesting to think that Mick’s experience of rowing ‘Dream Maker’ across the Atlantic may have been entirely different to mine.
Corrections:
1. It was the white-pegs that Mick didn’t realize meant ‘meals to be shared.’ He knows that blue-pegged meals are otherwise for him and orange-pegged meals are for me!
2. The third tone of Mick’s beard (grey, brown and…) is not black but gold! His ‘tash is golden! This makes him more organic gardener at the Chelsea flower show, than gypsy allotment-keeper! My apologies!
Mood colour of the day (Tuesday 2nd March, I’m out of sync!) – olive green (in homage to Mick’s hat!), seas 1ft.
01.30 GMT (3rd March)
Barometer 1017
ESE 5-8kts.
2
In praise of a wide brimmed hat or it’s Star Wars but not as we know it!
0 Comments | Posted by LiveFromTheSea in Live Update
I’m not good at hats, most make me look odd and as for bobble hats well let’s not go there! Up until now I have always maintained that there are only 2 hats that suit me, One is flat with a peak a chequered black and white band with a silver badge, the other taller solid, again black with a large silver badge on the front, you guessed it both are hats I’ve worn/wear for work.
I also don’t like wearing hats in hot weather asd they make my head hot, however my views on hat wearing in hot weather have changed as a result of this row. I am the possessor of a green wide brimmed bush hat which I must say does not flatter me however from the start of the row worried about getting sun burnt through thinning hair I have religiously worn it. To my surprise the hat has not only become a comfortable accessory to complete the look of the hardened ocean rower (badly trimmed beard, suntan, nasty rash, sunglasses) but is actually keeping my head cool. With the extremely hot weather over the last couple of days there has been no respite from the sun whilst rowing and no option of any shade, the hat provides a pool of shade for my eyes and face as well as my neck. Yesterday afternoon I finished my shift rowing and went to take the hat off. I grabbed the top of the hat only to find that it was almost too hot to touch. My head underneath though was relatively cool. The other great advantage of this sort of hat and a beard is that you have to apply less suncream to your face. This is good as I generally have an aversion to suncream but in the current climate as soon as you try and apply it, it turns to slime when mixed with the ever present sweat.
So it may not look much, certain people on the boat may have described me as an allotment keeper but I am a convert. It may make me look like an extra out of ‘It ain’t alf hot mum’ (for those old enough to remember, by the way I watched it as a small child!) Indiana Jones but I am becoming very attached to it.
On the subject of image, the beard is coming on well and is even getting straggly round the chin and chops. I will leave it to grow until we reach Antigua cultivating it together with a couple of nasty rashes, just so I fulfill the ocean rower stereotype. I have agreed with my wife that it will stay until we get here for novelty value but after that it will have to go. She is already out buying the razor blades!
On a seperate note we have several followers who have given us nicknames throughout the trip, one of the funniest yet we believe is from David Faulder (there was no name attached when the suggestion was passed on to us in our bulk email) or someone with a similar sense of humour and was addressed to Princess Lia (obvious) and Chewbacha. For those of you not into Star Wars I suggest you type the name into google and see what appears. Thanks David I’m not sure it’s got that bad though.
A little more wind this afternoon or should I say some wind as there no wind for 12 hours last night at all. In the moonlight I could actually see the reflections of the clouds the ocean was so mill pond like.
The silver-penny moon was still up and glowing progressively more golden. Sitting regally on a cloud, only a single star henchman remained by its side. On the opposite side of the horizon, the sun was rising, swathed in a scarlet veil with all its glory reflecting on the ambient clouds. I watched the moon and then the sun, in their game of Russian roulette, as the moon slowly conceded and the sun edged up. About a quarter of the way up the sky, there seemed to be a stand-off and neither the moon nor the sun budged staring each other in the face. Minutes later the moon was gone and the sun rose triumphantly building in intensity.
The afternoon was the same as the previous afternoon. We were still rowing across Lake Geneva, in Asian heat with Monsoon humidity. The sky was mostly clear, bar a few cobwebs of high cirrus far aloft. ‘Come down wind! Please!’ I thought. It was an act of great restraint not to stop rowing and wipe away the beads of sweat that part tickled, part tortured the nerve endings on my back, as they wove their path down my spine.
It is so hot that nothing can survive. We picked up a creature during our time on para-anchor. Looking vaguely like a water boatman, I called it the ‘Deck Critter.’ The Deck Critter has the tear-drop body of a spider, but with only four legs, two forward-facing, two aft-facing, where the two forward-facing are twice the length of the two aft-facing. The Deck Critter was wont to hang out in the shade of the drinks bottles, by the port scupper. Then during the same watch, I saw him on the starboard side. ‘Boy!’ I thought. ‘Can you move!’ Yesterday, I realized that there were in fact two; a port and starboard Deck Critter. Unfortunately both have been found baked in the proximity of the poo bucket.
While earlier in the voyage, I said that strangely, I couldn’t stomach the richness of the Green & Black’s 70% cocoa dark chocolate that we seem to have in abundance onboard, something has changed- I lost a lot of weight and there was a full moon! Now I pack it in on every watch! Since we have 6 bars of 70% cocoa dark chocolate, 1 bar of 85% cocoa dark chocolate and 1 bar of organic Maya Gold (infused with a twist of orange and delicate spices), not to mention the bar of 60% cocoa dark chocolate with cherries that I have on the go at the moment, I have decided to call the last 500 miles, the Chocolate miles. At 500g per bar (500 Kcal), 8 bars over 500 miles affords me the luxury of 8g per mile! The only draw back is that during the sunlight hours, the chocolate turns to liquid and becomes difficult to eat. I have managed to get round this with the molten cherry, by simply licking the packet. Fortunately Mick’s a milk-choc man. Thank you to everyone who gave me the Green & Blacks.
The miles may be counting down, but in the windless blazing sunshine, we are earning every one of them. While we’ve had our arguments, disagreements and days of endless miscommunication, Mick and I seem finally to have found an equilibrium. The words may still slip out of my mouth; Mick might state something, but as soon as it is said, there are accompanying words of ‘I mean like…’ or ‘Do you know what I mean?’ And some back-peddling might begin if necessary. We are able, finally, to talk on the same wave-length without upset. ‘If it doesn’t change, it will stay the same!’ Is a phrase onboard that makes us laugh every time. We take turns in using it. ‘If you row for long enough, apparently you can row an ocean!’ We chuckle. (Thanks to Mike Leneman who sent us this as a message). Staying positive right now, is key. The race isn’t over yet. Slowly, we seem to be uniting, reflecting privately perhaps on how far we have come together, both the lows and the highs. I owe Mick alot. He’s done half the rowing! I am beginning to believe that it is possible, to share the gruelling, intense, physical and emotional experience that is rowing an ocean, with someone who started as a stranger, for that person to end as a friend.
Mood colour of the day (Monday, 1st March) – Sheepskin inner-pile pale cream, seas 0ft.
13.45 GMT
Barometer 1011
Wind ?! SE tickle.
Those who have followed our journey from the start will remember the early problems that I had with my feet being worn apart by the ‘crocs’ shoes we where whilst rowing. My feet have been well healed for over a month now thanks to the use of a pair of Twin Skin running socks I had the good fortune to bring with me. These socks as the name suggests have two layers which rub against each other rather than your skin, they are designed for marathon runners so have proved ideal for this purpose. That is until the socks started to wear through on the heel where they catch the rowing foot plate. Initially this was no problem and as the softer cotton outer layer wore aweay the harder nylon inner took the strain. Unfortunatey this could not last forever and last week the inner on bith feet holed and my heels started to take the brunt.
I have only bought 3 pairs of socks with me the other being a waterproof pair and a thick woolen pair both unsuitable for the purpose. After some thinking I hit on the idea of putting the socks on upside down i.e. with the heels on top of my feet which has the effect of putting the untouched material from the front of my ankle round the heel. Again another good and practical solution. Today I noticed that these new areas are also starting to wear and am starting to think about how I can find another area of material to place round my heel. I think I will cut the toes of the socks open and wear them as tubes,.we’ll see what happens.
As you may have guessed from the above news from out here is bit slow however you can wake up now. This morning we saw the first sign that we are not the only 2 humans on the planet that we have seen for approx. 4 weeks when a large trawler type vessel steamed past. Lia was on watch and I was sleeping however when she realised I had stirred to roll over she woke me up so I could see. I sleepily poked my head out of the cabin and sure enough saw a large grey trawler some couple of miles away. The only other sign of human life has been the odd plastic bottle floating past and yesterday afternoon a 3 feet high gas container heavily rusted floating by.
I mentiond yesterday that it was hot and today is no different just a little more cooling breeze. To give you an idea of how hot at 2am this morning I thought I would have a piece of chocolate. I opened the packet and made to snap off a square only to find the whole packet neatly bent in 2 as it was so soft. Lets hope that he winds pick up in the next few days as it would be good to cool down for a while.
2010 as so far been a very odd year meteorologically, in the southern latitudes of the north Atlantic. Since British Airways balloted to strike through March, the trade winds have vanished. The last few weather data files have promised everything from N’lies, NE’lies to a lovely 10 knot E’ly. Last night we rowed on with bated breath. ‘Has the wind arrived yet?’ We asked one another. As a whisper, a tickle, barely a puff rolled across the surface for the umpteenth time, ‘…it’s showing promise’ came the answer.
The night was warm and flood lit; the galaxy blanched by the candlesence of the moon, her wattage, so brilliant that you could read the numbers on the compass, dancing in their orb. A day off full moon, the rabbit was clearly visible in her face. While the breeze teased me, a healthy ripple one minute, soft unbroken undulations the next, I watched our bubble trail drift off up the silvery path of our wake, the dip of the oars creating beads on the water’s satin dress. It was easy to stay awake. The cycle of day had simply been replicated with a filter overlaid to change the shades.
Race rules dictate that you must take 90 days worth of food. Based on the assumption that we would be across within 70 days, the snacks were bundled into 70 day packs of 4500-5000 Kcal to be shared, with 15 half packs and 5 days worth of ‘other’ edible treats (ginger biscuits, fudge, toffee), making up the number. Mick and Anton were going to eat 100% ‘wet’ ration packs bulked up with couscous, cuppa-soups and Super Noodles. Having eaten 60 days worth of ‘wet’ ration packs already in my life and knowing from experience that couscous is bland and goes everywhere; that hot drinks get replaced with cold water out of laziness and that Super Noodles are pure carbs-no nutrition, I managed to persuade Mick to change the diet plan. We were very fortunate that Woodvale, the race organization allowed us to trade 50% of our ‘wet’ meals, portion-for-portion with the freeze-dried that is carried on the support yachts in case of re-supply needs. The exchange was a huge undertaking.
As a result we ended up with ‘A’ packs (morning meals: one ‘baked bean’ breakfast, one egg/porridge/freeze-dried cereal breakfast and a protein shake each) and ‘B’ packs (evening meals: one ‘wet’ lunch, a freeze-dried dinner and a desert a piece). Since there weren’t enough breakfast dishes on offer, after day 40, we dropped the egg/porridge/freeze-dried cereal breakfast. These became ‘A -’ meals. Since there also weren’t enough deserts on offer, after day 40, we also dropped desert. These became ‘B -’ meals. Thus days 40-60 were going to be the minus meal days. Taking the advice that we were unlikely to eat everything from every pack and bearing in mind that there was no time or money available to buy more than what my friends had already raided from every outdoor and camping shop in Bristol, the remaining 30 meals became ‘E’ meals (E for extra or emergency!). ‘E’ meals were a mere 2 meals each per day.
With 650 miles to go and our second extended para-anchor delay only just behind us, it was therefore time for a stock-take. My A-B system had gone somewhat askew with Mick wanting more calories than we expected (two freeze-dried dinners rather than one), although this was no issue since I opted to eat 3 ‘wet’ meals a day, finding it easier on the gut. The upshot of all this is that in 8 days time we’re going to run out of freeze-dried deserts and have to resort to eating squashed, out-of-date McVities cakes from the snack bags, to make up the calories. But since neither of us can remember what an unsquashed, in-date McVities cake tastes like, this is no matter! As long as we continue to monitor the emptying of the pantry, versus our DTF (Distance To Finish), I can also reassure myself that I can continue to feed Mick his two freeze-dried dinners, taking meals now from the ‘E’ packs, without the fear that we might starve!
Mick who usually eats anything sufficiently filling and prepared for him, without complaint, turned to me two days ago and held up a packet of freeze-dried.
‘Is this one for me?’ He asked.
‘No.’ I replied. ‘Your meals are the ones with the blue pegs.’
‘They are?’
‘Yes!’ ‘How many days have we been out here?!’
‘55.’
‘And you didn’t know that?!’
‘I thought it was easier just to ask!’
The afternoon crawled by, the much-awaited wind still absent. All around the rim of the horizon, cumulus was stacked up and up and up, climbing higher than I have ever seen it before. The clouds towered towards the sun, without wavering. There was no wind in the upper atmosphere either. The cabin thermometer read 31.5 degrees Celsius. At the oars, I kept a tissue between the rails to catch the perspiration before it ribboned down my face. My unclothed body was slick like an ice-lolly, glistening in the sun. Hot as a word, does not do it justice. Sweltering is closer. I wondered if someone had popped a bell jar over our circle of the map.
Finally the sun sank and there was some relief. It had been too hot to nap. My early evening shift was awash with pale blues, every nuance of white to baby blue. The departed sun shone a last glimmer of molten apricot on the flecks of cloud and the sea shimmered brilliant crimsons. ‘This is why I am here.’ I said to myself, soaking up the colours, realizing that you would be hard-pushed to re-create the scene on stage. The moon was already up and about and beginning to brighten and as it did so, the rest of my palette of blues and the flush of rosy red-faced pinks began to drain. Sensing perhaps, that I needed a little cheering up, the dolphins that had been prancing around for Mick earlier, returned for me. Surfacing to my left, then my right; in front, then behind, they wanted to play! ‘Dream Maker’ is slow compared to a sailing yacht, but they lolled about patiently sucking in air. Then one threw himself into the air, nose-first and squealed with delight!
Mood colour of the day (28 February) – Ensign red, seas 1ft.