13 Dec, 05 - 20:53
Latitude: 25° 56' N
Longitude: 22° 40' W
Miles to Antigua: 2185
Miles in last 24 hours: 17
Note from First Mate Monty
Hmmmph!
Thank heavens she's out there and rowing again. I normally have the cabin more or less to myself - when she's in here she's sleeping - but while the sea anchor has been out she's been mooching around in here and getting under my feet, erm, paws.
Hmph!
Two weeks into my Atlantic row, and it seemed a good time to compile a list of my top-performing bits of kit to date, and offer some belated thank-yous. So here we have it:
Sedna Solo's Top Star Performers
1. Head torch: I have 2 Petzl torches, which have been invaluable since I never seem to have enough juice left in my main batteries to use the cabin light at night. Thanks to my sister for one of them, and to Tom and the ever-helpful staff at the Piccadilly Cotswold Outdoor for their advice on the other
2. Pentax camera (Optio WP): compact, waterproof, robust, fast and (so far, touch wood) reliable. £200 well spent.
3. Thermos flasks (Nissan): ordered from the States, as I couldn't find them in the UK. I've got one big tall one for water and a short squat one for food. I boil up just once in the morning and put the spare hot water in the tall flask. It's still hot enough by evening to rehydrate my dinner - I put my Commercial Freeze Dried ingredients with herbs and spices into the squat flask, add the water from the tall flask, and 5 minutes later I have dinner. Very tasty prawn curry tonight.
4. Heel-steering system: as designed and built by Richard Uttley at Dolphin Quay Boatyard. Works a treat. (Richard - the locking off doesn't work so well, as I can't get it tight enough. So I use the rudder strings for locking off, and that works just hunky-d.)
5. Ventilation holes and vent covers: again by Mr Uttley. Let plenty of air but no water into my cabin. Have only had to close the vents once, and that was during the Saturday night storm, but even then I'd left them opefor a while and no water got in.
6. Leecloths: Jock Wishart's suggestion, leecloths provided free of charge by Ivan at Arun Sails. Stop me falling out of bed and being thrown around the cabin in even the roughest weather. They make my bunk a safe and comfortable haven, much appreciated after a long day at the oars.
7. Grabrails and 2 rollbars: vital to have things to hang onto in the cockpit. The main 'rollbar', ostensibly for mounting antennae and nav light, also makes a great barre for hanging onto while I do my stretches.
8. Kettle: much safer than a billycan for pouring boiling water on a lurching ship. Purloined (with permission) from apartment in La Gomera.
9. Kangaroo skin gloves, by Kakadu of Australia: soft and supple leather gloves, without which my hands would be even rougher than they are.
10. Mother: invaluable. Mum is my first point of contact for race information, weather and general advice. She's also handling my email messages, bank accounts, website issues and other administration. And she's probably also doing 101 other things for me that she doesn't even tell me about. We can safely say that I wouldn't be here (or indeed, anywhere) if it wasn't for my mother.
Apology
If I have made anybody, male or female, self-conscious about the content of their messages, then many apologies. All support, encouragement, AND advice gratefully received, although in the case of the latter, I do of course reserve the right to ignore it and do as I damn well please.
Special thanks for some recent advice that has NOT been ignored:
- Achates, for his tip on sleeping on your back and letting the movement of the boat massage those aching muscles
- Patrick Pearson, for the Alexander Technique refresher, and reminding me to do my stretch routine after every shift.
And another apology
To people who have sponsored a mile of my row and have not as yet been mentioned, as promised, on my website. Afraid this got overlooked in the general busy-ness. So belatedly, here are the names of people who have sponsored a mile already rowed...
John Cuell, Paul Baynham, Christopher Adams, Ed Harrison, Geoffrey Parish, India Peary, Iona Peary, Elizabeth & Henry Burroughs.
Wind: 3 kts
Weather: sunny and hot
Sea state: gentle swell
Hours rowing: 8
| Atlantic Row Part 1 |
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12 Dec, 05 - 19:07
Latitude: 26° 06' N
Longitude: 22° 23' W
Miles to Antigua: 2202
Miles in last 24 hours: 3
One oar down, three to go
I thought I had emerged unscathed from the big blow of Saturday night, but I was wrong. This morning I realised that one of my oars is broken. Not broken in two - that I would have noticed - but splintered along its length in four distinct cracks, like a plastic drinking straw that has been trodden on.
Not a big problem - I've got 2 spares, although obviously by the time I'm down to my last oar I'll be having problems going in anything other than circles.
So I swapped the broken oar for a spare, which had been serving as a guardrail, and taped up the broken one with my boathook as a splint so that if I fall against the guardrail it won't give way.
Biding time
The wind is still blowing the wrong way - the wrong way for my purposes, anyway. I tried rowing for a while this afternoon, but the best course I could make was a very slow WNW, which might have got me somewhere but certainly not Antigua. So I did what any self-respecting adventurer would do in the circumstances - stowed my oars, put Sid the sea anchor out to play, and went to wash my hair.
The had been a slight lapse in standards of hair hygiene. My body was acceptably clean, with regular bathing with sponge or wet wipes, but my hair had generally been stuffed under a hat and out of sight was out of mind.
It felt astonishingly good to get rid of all the tangles - feeling like a mermaid as I sat on deck, butt naked, combing out my tresses - and give it shampoo and conditioner using my nice-smelling and very eco-friendly Green People products (cue blatant plug for sponsor).
La difference
I have been receiving a gratifying number of messages via email and text, with words of support, encouragement and advice.
An observation - as a broad generalisation, and with notable exceptions - women tend to offer support and encouragement, while men offer advice. As I recall, this applies on terra firma too. Interesting.
And finally...
A moment of pure tranquillity this evening - standing up on deck, hanging onto the roll bar behind me as we rode the rolling swells, looking towards the setting sun. Not another human being as far as the eye could see - just a couple of birds wheeling low over the waves. The gentle sound of waves lapping against the hull. Bliss.
Wind: 7-10kts, from the wrong direction
Weather: sunny and clouds
Sea state: swell, also from the wrong direction
Hours rowing: 1
Hours sleeping: 6
Thought for the day: A good scare is often worth more to a man [or woman] than good advice.
| Atlantic Row Part 1 |
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11 Dec, 05 - 19:11
Latitude: 26° 06' N
Longitude: 22° 19' W
Miles to Antigua: 2205
Miles in last 24 hours: 6
Sid the sea anchor was a dirty stop-out and stayed out all night. Me, I stayed in my cabin, apart from one desperate foray to the cockpit, scrabbling around on all fours to retrieve various items that were making a bid for freedom. I managed to haul in a jerrycan that was dangling by a bungy cord over the side, and rescued 2 buckets and a pair of trainers that were floating around in the flooded footwell. The only escapee was a bumper size pot of Boots baby wipes (my toilet paper) last seen bobbing off in the direction of Greenland.
Yup, it was a Saturday night to remember.
I'd finished a rowing shift at 1am, and noticed the wind had moved round to the south. Bad news, when that's the way I want to go. So to stop me being blown in the wrong direction I put out the sea anchor - a fabric parachute 12 feet in diameter that is let out on a long rope from the bows of the boat. It grabs hold of a big fistful of water and stops the boat going too far the wrong way.
The next time I woke up it was about 3.30am and blowing a storm. Waves were crashing over the boat and we were pitching every which way. I stuck my head out the hatch and was greeted with a blast of wind and a scene of devastation. I put on my waterproof as some token protection against the elements, clipped on my safety harness, and did what I could to restore order. I paused briefly to note the wind speed - 22 knots at that moment, but I'm sure it was gusting more.
In hindsight I suppose it was a scary situation, but I didn't notice at the time - I was too busy to be scared.
With everything stowed I retreated for the night while the wind continued to blow. At one point the whole boat tipped 90° - I found myself lying on a leecloth instead of my mattress, and all sorts of things that normally live on the right hand side of the cabin were later found in unlikely lodging places on the left.
Today the wind has been gradually easing, but is still coming from the wrong direction, so Sid the sea anchor is still out partying. I've been taking it easy, enjoying the extra recovery time for my shoulder. I had to call Tiny to make sure I was justified in not rowing today. It felt weird to be doing so little. Those who know me well on terra firma will vouch for the fact that sitting doing nothing doesn't come easily to me. It seemed inappropriate to be discovering my lazy side in the middle of a race. But Tiny gave me the reassurance I needed, and gave me a suitable anecdote of a round-the-world yachtsman (whose name I didn't catch). 'Racing', he said, 'is an insult to the ocean', and with that he carried on past the finish line, did another half lap of the world, and went to visit some friends in Tahiti.
Wind: 22+ kts last night, now about 5 Weather: sunny, overcast later
Sea state: rough, very rough at times
Hours rowing: 0
Hours sleeping: 10
Thought for the day: Surprise yourself every day with your own courage (Denholm Elliott)
| Atlantic Row Part 1 |
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