Opening up
Panatlantic
Mon 7 Jan 2008 15:50
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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
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