Opening up

Panatlantic
Mon 7 Jan 2008 15:50
Dear all,
I hope this finds you well, i gather that it findsBritain wet and in the middle of a lurgy epidemic, but i hope this finds YOU well.
Today's blog is going to be very different from usual. We received an email from a friend saying that by the sounds of things this is more of a jaunt than a challenge. It pleases me greatly that we are continually able to convey good humour through our blog, but it might be a little misleading.
Today finds me at my lowest ebb of the entire jaunt, it's taken 34 days at sea to dent my endless enthusiasm and 'ever the optimist' approach to everything, so i thought i'd write about it. James was plunged into quite severe depression for the first week or so of our trip, and slips back not infrequently when we have one setback or another, of which we have had a great number; but i'm different, my emotions don't really fluctuate and when they do it comes as quite a surprise to me, so i thought it was worth writing about. I get frustrated, but this tends to manifest itself in a sudden outburst of temper than in depressed moods; if i get hit by a rogue wave that knocks me about and tears open my sores for example, i get rather frustrated and smash the oars down onto the water (that'll learn it), but that tends to be the only kind of emotional wobble i suffer from out here. Today's blog isn't going to include any jokes (that's not a joke), or any amusing asides about the Goat Index or Osama bin Laden, i am simply going to take you through the last 24 hours from 12pm on sunday 6th Jan until 12pm today on monday 7th Jan. Blow by blow, as it was for us on board.
 
At 12pm yesterday, i put my book down and called out to James to read the mileage off our GPS. We had gone 26 miles in 24 hours. We had rowed constantly and made just over 1 kt per hour. At that rate we'd be across the atlantic in 120 days, which some people have taken, but that's a different story.
We check our emails at 12pm, James comes in from his shift, turns the laptop on and calls out to me how many emails we've received and who from.
The sea state had deteorated unfortunately, gone was the beautiful velvet-like ocean gently lolling its way past us, the wind had picked up from the north and the surface of the sea danced with untold numbers of baby waves.
The temperature was hot, mid 30's, but not as bad as the days before so we weren't going through our electrolyte bottles so fast. We toiled away at the oars, making just over 1kt again, but as the sea grew we became hopeful of some more serious speeds... James has pulled a muscle in his left arm now, over-compensating for his damaged right arm, but he seems to be rowing ok.
I left the cabin, balanced on the seat, finding the most comfortable position possible, as it's best for your sores not to move at all during the hour; gripped the oar handles tenderly, bent my legs and placed the blades in the water behind me. The splitting pain in my fingers returned, as with every shift, for the first 10 or 20 strokes, but after that you can forget about your hands, unless a blade gets caught by a wave and the handle of one oar smashes the fingers of your other hand, you remember them again pretty quickly when that happens. That happens every 5 minutes or so.  
During my 3-4pm rest i had a shower, well i filled the kettle and put my shorts in there with some shower gel. I added my flannel to the mix and flennelled myself off as much as possible. I then squeezed out the shorts, emptied the fetid water from the kettle and returned to the cabin where i called one of the other crews: Mission Atlantic, 4 blokes from the Met Police. I spoke with Andy Erhart, a cracking chap, they'd broken their rudder and fixed it but now their steering wasn't working, they were all losing masses of weight and were stuck in an awful patch of weather to the north. Their families had re-booked their flights to Antigua on 4 occasions now.
I made up my lunch just before 4, Expedition Foods spaghetti bolognese. I opened the bag and the smell filled me with dread. I poured in the hot water from the thermos flask and left it to sit for 30 minutes while i rowed. Typically I manage to get about half way through the spaghetti bags before it makes me gag and i have to throw the rest over. This means that i get half the calories i need from it, but better that than trying to eat more, which would make me throw up and i wouldn't get any benefit from it at all. I make up the calories with a protein bar. The spaghetti is so full of fat (30%) that it creates a wonderful oil slick on the water. It is also so horrible that even Dory won't eat it.
Just at the end of my shift i begin to feel my right elbow. That feels a little odd, Is that starting to swell up?
I normally sleep from 5-6, but we are joined by a whale from 17:25 for 45 minutes so i don't get a wink. I hardly begrudge it the sleep though, it is absolutely wonderful seeing it circle the boat over and over again, coming to within 4m of us. What a wonderful beast, i'm not sure of the species, it's about 14 feet long and i should be able to identify it from a picture when i get home. James says that's the best shift he's rowed all the time and hopes my shift is just as good.
Not to be, my elbow has started to really come up now, not my left elbow (the one that was operated upon), but my right, it's beginning to be incredibly sore and the swelling is more and more noticeable.... For the first time on the trip all my muscles suddenly start to ache, my IT bands are tighter than they've ever been, my hamstrings are pulling tight, i've even got a headache! I never get headaches! what the hell is going on?!
After my 6-7 shift i came inside and stripped down, grabbed a wet-one and wiped my backside and crotch with one side and my face and underarms with the other. This might not sound particularly nice, but we only have 2 wet ones each per day, so needs must!
I called Rachel and explained to her that we were now hoping that we might get in to Antigua around Jan 28th. Our original estimate was that we would definitely be in by the 20th, but we couldn't have predicted the weather. Jan 28th is when James' parents fly home. My mum and brother fly on the 1st Feb. I was due to have had a 10 day cruise on my uncle's yacht after arriving, but now i'll have to go back to work without having had a holiday (this isn't a holiday). For the first time all trip i began to feel a little emotional, though i tried not to show it. Rachel didn't really know what to say, what do you say to someone who never really needs picking up? "Chin up Niall." "Thanks Rach, will do. Speak to you next week." I put the phone down and remonstrated with myself: "Toughen up, stop being so soft."
I row my first night shift (8-9) basically one handed, at the end of the shift i feel my elbow and it's on fire, burning up, and very sore to touch. I root around in the medical kit but can't find any ibuprofen, but i do find the antibiotics. Surely it can't be another infection? I can't risk it though.... Right, how many do i take? No idea, and the instructions are in Spanish. Wait, there's 7 packs of 4, it must be a week course, one per 6 hours. I draw on my arm to mark the extent of the swelling and take the first tablet and try to get some sleep. Impossible: what if it is an infection? If it's like the last one then the broad spectrum ABs i'm taking won't do anything. I'd have to be airlifted out. Could they then bring me back? No, of course not. That means James would be alone. There is no way James could manage that, with over 1000miles still to go, so he would have to be rescued by one of the support yachts. And Komale? Well they can't tow her around the Atlantic, they'd have to burn and sink her. That would be the greatest disaster, we need the money from her sale to pay back a 20,000 private loan, hopefully accrue some of the thousands of pounds we have spent personally and still make a decent donation to the Zoo. No, it can't be an infection, that simply won't do.
James finds some ibuprofen at last and i take 2, hopefully the swelling will ease.
At the start of each shift The one leaving the cabin would ask: "how is it?" "Same, still going nowhere." Rowing your socks off for little gain is rather draining on the morale.
The ibuprofen i took can't have been non-drowsy. I fell asleep every few seconds for the entire hour of my last 4 night shifts. It's a painful kind of tired, very strange to feel. I tried everything to wake myself up: I ate a lot; i tried singing but couldn't get any words into my head; i got my camera out and flashed myself, which worked for about 5 seconds but i couldn't do that every 5 seconds for an hour; i slapped myelf, that didn't work; i thumped myself in the jaw and that was just stupid! Now i was knackered and had an aching jaw that didn't subside until mid-morning!
At the end of my 2-3am shift i looked with glee as James turned on the cabin light at 02:55, then i must have nodded off as i looked at my watch and it was now 03:02! James must have fallen asleep too! Bugger! "James, your shift mate!". I'd done myself out of 2 minutes proper sleep! Gutted!
Finally dawn came, and with it came more wonderful acrobatic displays from the dorado. We have several huge dorado around the boat at the moment, plus Dory. We have spoken about catching one but we'd rather not have to kill it, and the tuna-tamer hook we have has a frightful barb and i'd have to cause the fish some real damage to get it out once hooked, so we both decided that we're happy just to watch them gambol around us, chasing flying fish.
My elbow's feeling better, i'm sure it's not an infection and that the swelling was strangely hot for some other reason, but i'll stick with the ABs for a wihle yet.
We got a call from Margaret from Atlantic Jack, they've had a forecast that another weather system is due in this afternoon, the same system that had us on our sea anchor first time back before Christmas. We should be far enough south now to avoid it but they're preparing for 2 days on the anchor.
No one can believe the weather this year, we are 40 degrees west and the trade winds aren't blowing, there has been lull after lull followed by adverse system after adverse system! It has all been exacerbated for us as we left 2 days late. If i hadn't got ill we'd have been with the front runners from the start and would have missed the first weather system that slowed us down so much. And now, as we eek out 1kt per hour they are still flying along doing 50miles per day. That is frustrating, but that is our lot.
We have force 4 winds blowing from the South East, waves that generally go West but there are a few directions out there and a current that is going South West. We are somewhere in the middle of that being pushed and pulled in every which direction and not going anywhere fast!
In previous years most crews have managed several 80mile days in their crossing. This year 2 boats have gone over 70miles on one occasion each. In previous years, in fact in November when the ARC was run, the trade winds have been blowing consistently from 30 degrees West, those crews north of us are about to be hit by another lot of headwinds! I have the wind charts for this time of year and the chance of experiencing weather like this is tiny! But that is our lot.
So no, this isn't a jaunt. This is a huge and monumental challenge. I think the physical side of it is quite obvious to everyone. I hope that i have given you a quick insight into the psychological side here too.
Is it enjoyable? At times yes, in a way that you could never experience unless you were where we are. On the whole it is enjoyable in that there's a lovely view, you're warm etc, but at times you have experiences that are enjoyable on quite a different plane. It is these memories that will live on with us.
What's the hardest part? For me, probably the physical pain. For James probably coping psychologically.
Are we happy we've done it? Absolutely, the feelings we get when things are going well here are incredible. The feeling we will have when we finish will be the greatest of our lives. We will always treasure this as an experience, one that challenged us immensely and one that we came through and hopefully (at least the majority of the time) thrived on.
Would we do it again? You must be joking!
 
Until wednesday, when i shall resume my normal blog,
Niall