30 Jul 2008, The Brocade
Today I saw a piece of debris - not a lot, just a flat piece of painted wood drifting by about 15 feet from my boat. I have been asked if I've been surprised not to see more debris than the two or three pieces I've reported - and the answer is no, not really.
The first reason is that while I row I have a (relatively) great big cabin in front of me, blocking most of my view. I can of course look out from the sides of the cockpit, but that tends to muck up my rowing (as any crew rower can tell you, you're not supposed to look at your oar!) so I tend to keep my eyes on the compass between my feet, and for much of the day I'm lost in the world of my audiobook. So there could be all kinds of exciting things going on alongside me, and I'd be totally oblivious.
Second, I'm not in the worst part of the ocean for debris. The North Pacific Garbage Patch, allegedly the size of Texas, is north of my current position in the centre of the North Pacific Gyre - the "eye" in the huge circulatory system of winds and currents that spans the Pacific north of the equator. I knew before I set out that if I found myself in the middle of the NPGP something would have gone horribly wrong with my navigation!
But the third reason is the most worrying. The last time I saw pollution in the ocean was on a dead calm day. The surface of the water was as calm as a millpond. And there, drifting around near the surface, like motes of dust in a sunbeam, were tiny pieces of unidentifiable flotsam. They definitely weren't animal, vegetable or mineral, so they were almost certainly manmade, and very likely plastic.
It's these tiny little bits and pieces of plastic that are the insidious invaders in the ocean ecosystem. Small creatures mistake them for food and eat them. The plastic can't be digested or excreted, so it sits in their digestive system, leaking its deadly load of toxins into their bodies. These small creatures get eaten by slightly larger creatures and so on up the food chain, the plastics and the toxins accumulating at every stage.
Until we get to the top of the food chain - humans.
My father was from Yorkshire, and they have a traditional song there called On Ilkley Moor Baht 'At (meaning "without a hat") - which follows this logic (with huge apologies to all Yorkshirepeople for losing the accent and flavour of the original, but I'm trying to make it comprehensible to all): If you go on Ilkley Moor without a hat, you'll catch your death of cold. Then we shall have to bury thee. Then worms will come and eat thee up. Then ducks will come and eat up worms. Then we shall come and eat up ducks. Then we shall all have eaten thee.
And that's what's happening with the plastic. We throw it "away" (except of course there is no such thing as "away") - and eventually it comes back to us on our plates.
Shopping bag chowder, anybody?
Other stuff:
Position at 2130 29th July Pacific Time, 0430 30th July UTC: 24 01.189'N, 139 02.119'W.
Yes, I've crossed another line of longitude, and the milestone of 140 degrees West is just around the (metaphorical) corner. The Golden Gate Bridge is at 122 degrees West, and Oahu is at 158 degrees West, which puts 140 slap bang in the middle Westerly-wise. Exciting!
Meanwhile, I also have to keep an eye on my North/South-iness (latitude). So I'm still rowing across the waves from the NE, in a bid to stay on course for Hawaii. This makes for regular swamping waves. I've had to bail out the water from the footwell 3 times today, which is a bit tedious, but not as tedious as missing Hawaii would be!
Thanks for all the terrific messages of support and good humour. Thanks especially to: Deb Caughron for the donation - please say hi from me to all the teachers and students at Woodberry! John H - I am so impressed. 21 hours of beach cleanup done, 19 to go. I hope that other readers of this site will be inspired by your example! Karyn - no, I don't do celestial navigation. I know how, but the GPS is much more time-efficient. And the sun, moon and stars have been hiding behind clouds most of my time out here. Thank heavens for technology! Roger F - you read my mind! Already trying to figure out how I can look presentable on arrival when I haven't been able to get my legs waxed for 3 months. Jan - thanks for sharing your story about Ryan. I am so sorry for your loss, and admire your positive attitude. Also Caro, Bev, Robert, Laetitia, M, Ken (the ex-lurker!), Jan (will try to answer your question in the podcast Q&A on Saturday), Jim, Sharon, Russell and Gene.
Click here to view Day 66 of the Atlantic Crossing 4 February 2006: Tiny Little and Eddy Large - of wind and currents.
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29 Jul 2008, The Brocade
One of the questions in Saturday's podcast Q&A has got me
reflecting on how my boat really is a perfect little unit of
self-sufficiency. The solar panels provide more than enough electricity
for my needs, if my watermaker was working I would have an endless
supply of water, and if I decided to fish I would have an endless supply
of food.
Even as it is, if I absolutely stuffed the boat to the gunwales, I could
easily pack enough food for a couple of years - I've got two completely
empty hatches, several others that have plenty of room to spare, and the
fore cabin is nowhere near full.
And by sprouting my own beans (see photo) I can produce enough fresh
vegetables to ward off scurvy, for very little overhead in terms of
space, time and water.
If I wanted to I could stay out here almost indefinitely - but it
wouldn't be much of a life.
But the take-home message from this, literally, is just how viable
energy self-sufficiency and low-impact living are becoming. As I
mentioned in the podcast on Saturday, solar panels have come a long way,
so the payback period is now sufficiently short to make them an
attractive proposition. A couple of examples:
- Mike Klayko, CEO of my title sponsors Brocade, is fitting solar
panels to his new house - not out of environmental concern (although
that helps) but mostly because it makes financial sense
- Even in supposedly rainy old England, my mother has solar panels
on the roof of her house in Yorkshire - not the kind that generate
electricity, but the kind that heat water - and they work a treat and
save her a substantial amount on her utility bills.
I've had surprisingly little sunshine out here on the Pacific, but even
on dull days, and even with the limited amount of space I have available
for mounting solar panels, I've got oodles of electricity. (For the
detail-minded, I've got 4 x 60W semi-flexible panels on the aft cabin,
and 2 x 30W flexible panels on the fore cabin.)
If I had a home, I would seriously be looking at solar power. And if I
had a home in a sunny place, I could even sell back my surplus
electricity to the power companies and make a profit.
Definitely there's good financial sense in self-sufficiency!
Other stuff:
Position at 2145 28th July Pacific Time, 0445 29th July UTC: 24
08.209'N, 138 25.306'W.
A different perspective - here
is a blog written by one of the researchers I met as I rowed past
the Farralone Islands back in May..
And now (as they say on the TV) for some messages:
Robert - good luck! Be sure to check out the section on my website
(under Adventure) on How To Row An Ocean.
Markus - great to hear from you at last. I'd been wondering! Love to you
and Eleanor.
Oops, laptop battery about to go flat. Will sign off now so I can plug
in to recharge using all that lovely free electricity!
Click here to view Day 65 of the Atlantic Crossing 3 February 2006: Ocean Rowing and What it Does to a Girl's Looks - about weight and suntan.
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27 Jul 2008, The Brocade
This is what my weatherguy wrote to me in his daily email yesterday, comparing where I am now to my wiggly meander down the coast of California and Mexico. I only wish I could see it myself on my chartplotter (not working) or on Marinetrack (not accessible from the boat) so I could appreciate the progress for myself.
But it also got me thinking about some major progress of a different kind. If you'd have told me ten years ago that I'd have rowed the Atlantic and be part way across the Pacific, I'd have told you that you were crazy. I was 30 years old, just another office worker, unmotivated, lacking in self-esteem, with no sense of drive or purpose. There was a faint feeling that there was something missing. I just wasn't that kind of a person to undertake what could be a dangerous expedition. Only brave and adventurous people did that kind of thing.
And although there have been a few moments of "life vertigo" along the way, when I suddenly look down and wonder how my life got to be this way, generally the progress has been without terror or stress - in fact, as my life has become more in tune with my core values, my stress levels have decreased.
Most of the changes have been incremental, each one providing a stepping stone to the next. And it's amazing just how much you can achieve, how far you can travel, how much you can change your life, when you take it in baby steps.
One stroke at a time!
Other stuff:
Position at 2130 27th July Pacific Time, 0430 28th July UTC: 24 17.170'N, 137 46.659'W.
Conditions today have been rough, but otherwise not bad at all. Lots of sunshine early in the day, but with enough clouds passing over from time to time to stop me getting too hot in my waterproof jacket - my guard against saltwater and sun. The wind has been brisk and from the NE, so it's all good!
Thanks for the nice comments about my progress and course. It's nice to know you're keeping an eye on me, and that my efforts at the oars are recognized. It's a tough stage at the moment - so many days at sea, but so many still to go - the encouraging comments are most welcome. In common with most people, I appreciate being appreciated!
A message for Sarah Outen: yup, do what you need to the oars. We'll sort out the finances when we meet over that G&T. OS sleeping bag superb. Have removed one of the layers of fleece as I've headed south into (marginally) warmer climes. Metabolic Conditioning sounds daunting - you can do 100 pull ups?! Flippin' heck!!
Click here to view Day 64 of the Atlantic Crossing 2 February 2006 Magnificent Absurdity - about rowing at night.
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26 Jul 2008, The Brocade
I dream a lot when I am at sea - something to do with the constant rocking, and my sleep being occasionally interrupted by a particularly large wave slamming into the side of the boat. Most of the dreams - as on dry land - are random rehashes of recent experiences and memories, but once in a while there's a different kind of dream - exceptionally vivid, that seems to bear more significance. A couple of nights ago I had one of these dreams.
I was on a beautiful beach with a group of friends, and we decided to go swimming. We dived down under the waves into an amazing underwater world. There were sea urchins and fishes and all manner of marine creatures, each one a myriad of colours and textures and incredibly gorgeous in its own way. I was wearing no scuba gear or snorkel, but was able to breathe easily and simply look around me and marvel at all the natural beauty.
It was a bit crowded underwater, with lots of swimmers, but I assumed that this was just because we were close to the beach, and that it would thin out as we swam further.
But then we reached a sign, saying "No Through Road" and we were funneled upwards, out of the water, to a staircase that led up into a depressing shopping mall. We had to sit on a jetty just outside the mall to wait for a ferry to take us back to the beach. Some of the people were eating fish (!) while they waited, and appeared to see nothing wrong with this scenario, but I was disappointed and appalled. It seemed that my amazing diving experience had been nothing more than the marine equivalent of a Disney ride, and that most of these people were oblivious as to the connection between what we had just seen underwater, and what they were now eating.
When I woke up, the memory of the dream was still unusually strong, and I had the feeling that the dream was a reminder of what my message is and why I am here. After having struggled through the last few days, with disappointing mileages and uncomfortable conditions, it was just what I needed to remotivate me.
It reminded me of a thought I had when I was invited on a safari in Tanzania 18 months ago. The safari, although we saw some wonderful things, also made me very sad. It made me wonder when the world changed from being a few human habitations surrounded by wilderness, to being a few bubbles of preserved wilderness surrounded by human habitations.
I do hope that we never end up in a situation where the oceans are as dominated and exploited by humans as the land, and where a few isolated marine sanctuaries are the only places where ocean life survives. But I fear that unless we take action, and soon, we are heading that way.
Other stuff:
Position at 2130 26th July Pacific Time, 0430 27th July UTC: 24 19.863'N, 137 09.350'W.
[Photo: barnacles on the Brocade. They are not as bad as they look - this is just a narrow band of barnacles along the waterline. Covered by the water in this shot is the start of the antifoul paint that coats the bottom of my hull, which is still as smooth as a baby's bottom!]
Conditions today have been rather more rower-friendly. For the last few days it has been like rowing through treacle, to the extent that I even checked the rudder to make sure I hadn't accidentally picked up a stray fishing net or other bit of flotsam. Each stroke felt like a weightlifting exercise. But today was considerably better, and my rate of progress has gone back to more like "normal" in the trade winds.
Thanks from both me and Mum for all the great comments - especially in response to Mum's blog.. She is doing a great job and I'm very proud of her!
Glad that people are enjoying the podcasts. I also really enjoy my thrice-weekly chats with Leo. He is always so cheery and positive that even when I am having a lousy day our phone calls cheer me up. Thanks, Leo, and also to all the people who download the podcasts or tune in to watch them live on TwitTV.
Click here to view Day 63 of the Atlantic Crossing February 1 2006 Day 63: Life on Mars. Roz selects some favourite adventurers.
Do take a look at http://losfarallones.blogspot.com/ describing their encounter with Roz at the beginning of her Pacific row.
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