03 Sep 2008, Waikiki, Hawaii
At 5.55am local time on 1st September I crossed the line of longitude at 157 50.550'W and stopped rowing, let out a whoop of delight, and beamed a huge grin of satisfaction. I had completed the first leg of my solo row across the Pacific, in a time of 99 days, 8 hours and 55 minutes. And just as I had been for all but a few hours of that time, I was all alone.
The final hours had not quite gone according to plan, but in the final analysis it made no difference. I had still done it, and a warm glow of accomplishment filled me as the waters fill the ocean - all the way to the edges.
I had entered the Molokai Channel the night before, and based on my average rate of progress over the previous few days, it looked as if I would arrive at my personally-designated finish line between 9 and noon local time, and this was the timescale we had communicated to Brocade's PR people so they could muster the media for a photo opportunity. But we had reckoned without the Funnel Factor.
The Molokai Channel is the stretch of water between Oahu and Molokai, where the winds are funneled between the islands to create a wind tunnel. It was living up to my worst expectations. It was apparently a relatively quiet night - but if that was a quiet night, I wouldn't like to see a rough one. The wind was blowing 25 knots and my red ensign flag stuck out perpendicularly as if it had a rod running through it. The waves were high and my boat pitched around in the darkness. The stars were bright overhead despite the nearness of the orange streetlights of Oahu - now resolving themselves into individual dots of light - but there was no moon and the deck of my boat was dark.
The battery on my iPod went dead so I switched over to a CD of music that a friend had compiled for me. I sang along to drown out the sound of the roaring wind and give myself courage.
And so the night passed. And so did the Brocade - very rapidly. It became clear that I was going to arrive way earlier than anticipated. I discussed the situation with my weatherguy. I had the option to throw out the sea anchor to slow my progress, but I doubted that this would have much effect in these conditions. And at this final stage of my adventure it went against the grain to try and slow myself down. I wanted to finish in style, not dragging my feet (metaphorically speaking) across the line.
So I suggested that we separate the two aspects of my finish. I would carry on rowing, and cross my line in my own time. Then I would be towed back to Diamond Head to re-row the last half mile for the cameras.
And so it was that I crossed the line the same way that I had crossed the previous 36 degrees of longitude - alone. And it couldn't have been more perfect or appropriate. The morning was just starting to lighten the eastern horizon and the stars were winking out one by one. The waters were rough but I was rowing strongly. The track playing on the CD - by accident rather than design - was IZ the Hawaiian singer, and his version of Wonderful World/Somewhere Over The Rainbow.
And it was indeed a wonderful world.
After that things started to get hectic, and I relinquished the peace and solitude that I had so enjoyed over the previous 99 days. The towboat from the Waikiki Yacht Club arrived (we had already arranged for this vessel to tow me into the yacht harbour, regardless of what time I finished, so it was quick to scramble) and using my sea anchor line connected me up and towed me back to Diamond Head, a spectacular peak that forms the backdrop to the finish line of the TransPac yacht race. By 10am the media boats had arrived, along with wellwishers and, of course, my mother.
And, just as I had started this leg of my row twice (once last year - which ended in disappointment, and once this year), I also finished it twice, once for me and once for the media. It was well worth the extra effort - the few photos I have seen so far have been fantastic, and have made quite a splash on the front pages of local newspapers. We also shot footage for the documentary - quite a lot of footage, until I was really starting to wonder if I was ever to be allowed to stop rowing.
Eventually we were finished, and the towboat connected me up again. As they towed me towards the skyscrapers of Honolulu I retreated to my cabin for a few final moments alone, bracing myself for the onslaught of sensory input, in marked contrast to the watery world that had started to feel to me like a normal way of life.
The towboat dropped me at the entrance to the yacht harbour and I rowed the last few hundred yards in to the dock at the Waikiki Yacht Club, where I was greeted by cheers, a crowd of people, a phalanx of TV cameras - and a glass of chilled champagne.
I had become the first solo woman to row from California to Hawaii - but that was not what was running through my mind. Records are not important to me. The feeling I had inside was not pride, but a quiet sense of achievement in a job well done, having achieved my goals both environmental and personal. Records can be broken, but that inner sense of satisfaction can never be taken away. I was happy.
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31 Aug 2008, Nearing Oahu and Waikiki Yacht club
THE MORNING AFTER:
On Rick Shema's Weather Update - do go and have a look - is a good report of yesterday's events. My personal thanks to Rick and his family for allowing me to stay there in the run-up to Roz's arrival.
(You can find Rick's information by clicking here. Rita.)
It is now just after 5pm Hawaiian time and Roz has just called with her latest position. From now on she will call every two hours. Likely to arrive tomorrow some time in the middle of the day.
21 15.140N 157 28.608W 5pm Hawaii time
21 14.389N 157 31.692W 7pm Hawaii time
21 14.719N 157 34 625W 9pm Hawaii tme.
Roz describes the conditions as interesting - rough, windy and dark. However she can see light on Oahu, and things have improved since she started singing along to her CDs. She is taking a rest, but checking in again at 11pm.
21 14.580N 157 36.907W 11pm Hawaii time.
During Roz's rest she has drifted well - she says she is a good drifter.
21 12.585N 157 47.227W 4.30am Hawaii time.
Roz has gone too far south for the photo opportunity at Diamond Head, but still on target for her objective and arrival.
0900 Hawaiian time September 1st 2008, Roz has crossed the line that she considers to be her finish line. 21 13.096N, 157 47.570W.
Roz is now awaiting a tow boat to take her nearer to Diamond Head for a photo opportunity for the press. Following that she will proceed to the Waikiki Yacht Club for the welcomes, the hugs, celebrations and interviews.
Roz is feeling great - happy, cheerful and not too tired.
Aiming for:Waikiki Yacht Club: 21 17 17N 157 50 31W
There are still some days left of the Atlantic Crossing, and I can't leave the story unfinished.
Day 101 When Will Roz Arrive?
Day 102a Nearly there
Day 102b Hitch a Ride?
Day 103 She is Nearly here!
Day 104 I DID IT
Day 106 Antigua Paradise
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31 Aug 2008, Hawaii
Countdown to Roz's Arrival - Possibly Monday September 1.
On Thursday I flew over the Pacific from California to Hawaii for nearly five hours, at a speed of about 500 miles per hour. The ocean appeared to be so vast, so empty, so endless. Involved as I have been with Roz since she departed on May 25th, I still find it incredible that my daughter could choose to row, alone, across that distance. It will be so good to see her again.
On Friday morning talking briefly on the phone, she promised to ring me Saturday morning at 7.30am. Friday afternoon, Dane Golden, cameraman, called me to ask me to be at the Waikiki Yacht Club at 7am Saturday, to be part of Leo Laporte's thrice weekly phone chat with Roz on Twitlive.tv. Friday evening I sent an email to Roz to tell her not to phone on Saturday morning as "it was not convenient." That left her puzzled and intrigued. What was I going to be doing at that time of the morning?
At sunrise on Saturday Rick Shema and I faced the cameras at the WYC while Leo waited in California for Roz to call him from the boat. He began his usual chat with her, then brought me in to say hello to Roz. She was astonished to hear me, and then knew the answer to the question. Anybody watching Twitlive.tv on a computer would have seen us. (This is all experimental computer wizardry.)
The air is alive with messages flitting to and fro as we make plans to welcome Roz when she arrives. Roz needs to arrive in daylight hours for filming and photographic opportunities. Rick, the Weatherguy, who has done such an excellent job for Roz on this voyage, will be putting some of the finer details of her approach in his weather report - look for the link to it underneath the Marine Track box.
The plan is that as Roz approaches the Molokai Channel, and Honolulu, I will update her blog every couple of hours so that you, the readers, can be involved. It may even be possible to watch some of the exciting events live on Leo Laporte's twitlive.tv.
Talking to Roz yesterday morning on the phone, we shared the excitement of knowing that we would be meeting up pretty soon - with a big hug. After our initial welcome, there will be a blur of activity with the media, interviews, filming, greeting friends, champagne, before Roz can indulge in a long hot shower.
I suggest that you check this website from time to time on Sunday and Monday; 10am Hawaii time would be 1pm in California, and 9 pm in the UK.
Position at 2015 HST: 21 25.800'N, 157 00.099'W. (6.15 UCT)
If you have not yet VOTED for ROZ on the AMEX site, please, please do so. time is running out, and we need more votes. See the MEMBERS PROJECT link on this page, sign up as a guest, and vote for Roz's ocean rowing project. (Please do not vote more than once - it will cancel out your vote.)
Rick shema will be updating the weather forecast for Roz's area from time to time. Do remember to check his messages on the website. The link is underneath the MarineTrack box on this blog page.
Click here to view Day 100 of the Atlantic Crossing 9 March 2006: The Tide is Coming In - messages for Roz - but it would be another 3 days before she finally arrived, delayed by an obstinate sea anchor.
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30 Aug 2008, The Brocade
This afternoon, as the clouds of a squall passed away, I glanced over my shoulder and saw land - the first land I've seen since I rowed past the Farralone Islands just west of San Francisco. That was on May 26th, many miles and several watermakers ago. I was seeing the cloud-shaded outlines of Maui and Molokai, two of the Hawaiian islands that lie between the Big Island and my destination of Oahu.
In the aftermath of the squall the ocean was hushed and still, as often happens for a while after short sharp shower, before the weather recovers itself and the wind starts up again. Today that hush felt like a very special, quiet moment, a time for recollection and reflection before the end of this great adventure. I am now well into the last 100 miles and have just two or three days of solitude remaining before I make landfall.
I will take the quietness of the becalmed ocean into myself and bring it back to land like a secret souvenir. It is the feeling of strength and serenity that keeps me grounded when "real" life gets a bit crazy. Since I first found it - or first created it - during the Atlantic row, it has been there as a resource to draw on when I need it. Sometimes I forget I have it and get caught up in the frenzied busy-ness of everyday life, but then when I start feeling frazzled I remember it, and I feel inside for it and it reminds me of what is really important and what is not.
It is my pearl of peace, forged in the crucible of the ocean, formed around the grit and grind and hardship of my oceanic existence. And each time I focus on it, it acquires another layer of pearlescence - it becomes bigger and stronger and more robust, its patina deepening with age and usage. As it becomes more lustrous it becomes easier to remember it is there, its radiance harder to ignore.
And so tonight, as I look out of my cabin hatch and up at the hazy band of the Milky Way, and the multitude of stars twinkling overhead, and the sparkles of fluorescence as the waves break around my boat, I prepare myself mentally for the return to land, life, and people - and fold my pearl of peace into my heart.
Other stuff:
Position at 2100 29th August HST, 0700 30th August UTC: 21 29.065'N, 156 25.950'W.
As I enter the final hours of my row on Monday or Tuesday next week, we'll be updating this website on a frequent basis to give you up-to-the-minute news. I will be calling my mother with position updates every couple of hours, and she will be updating this web page so you can follow the adventure in almost real-time. Twitlive.tv is hoping to do a live broadcast of my arrival, so check that out too.
And I hope that, having shared my adventure with me, you will stick around for a few more days to bask in the glory of the celebrations on Hawaii. I'll be posting blogs post-landfall to tell you what I'm doing and how it feels to be back on dry land.
Click to view Day 99 of the Atlantic Crossing 8 March 2006: The Atlantic has been Crossed. The Atlantic Rowing Race organisers had stipulated the longitude that needed to be crossed to qualify for a crossing of the Atlantic. There were no blogs for the previous two days as Rita had limited access to a computer on Antigua.
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