Today was a long day at the oars, with a goal from my weatherman to reach a particular latitude in order to rendezvous with good winds tomorrow, but I was kept going by a particularly good audiobook – “Holy Cow!” by Sarah McDonald.

She is an Australia TV presenter, who spent two years in India when her boyfriend (later husband) was posted over there. She spent most of her time exploring the “spiritual supermarket”, as she describes India’s smorgasbord of religions.

I’d recommend the book, an entertaining yet thoughtful and thought-provoking account of her pilgrimages, retreats, encounters with gurus, celebrations of religious festivals and rites of passage.

It also got me thinking about my own version of spirituality. Although I am the daughter of not one, but two Methodist preachers, they both encouraged lively questioning and the use of intelligence in developing a belief system, rather than wholesale acceptance of any single “ism”. My father had little tolerance for “churchology”, in which people focused on the church or the preacher rather than the spiritual aspects. I hope I am not misrepresenting their views when I say they both believed there are many paths to the top of the mountain.

Of course, I had to rebel for a while during my teens and for about 20 years I didn’t even think about religion or spirituality. But it comes around again, especially once I started wondering what the point of my life might be. That search had a very direct bearing on my decision to start rowing across oceans.

But this is getting rather beyond the scope of a blog, and especially a blog after a long day rowing. It is way past my bedtime, my eyelids are drooping, my hands are sore and my backside wants some time off. But if this subject seems to be of interest – let me know in your comments – I can come back to it another time.

Wishing you a good night, and wishing myself sweet dreams of land, friends, family, and non-expedition food!

Other Stuff:

Hearing the audiobook narrated in an Aussie accent got me thinking about my friends back in Perth. A big hellooooo to you all, especially James and Jane, Steve and Ro, Margot, Sally, Clem, Geoff, Janet, James Lush, Brad Pettit, Danny and Bronwyn, Marian, Ben and Rachel, John, the UWA gang, and Rob, Nathalie and all the folks at Sea To Summit. I’m missing you and hope to see you again not too long after I’m done with this ocean – or it’s done with me!

Photo: a pic from the archives, taken by Jason Madara for the New York Times in 2007. Gives you an idea of what rowing at night looks like – but no photographer’s flash out here!

Sponsored Miles:

Christopher Senn, David Church. (Some sponsors pay for more than 1 mile; some miles at this stage are unsponsored – but plenty more scattered over future miles.)

One of the drawbacks to being alone on a rowboat is that there isn’t very much to do apart from, well, row. So on a day like today, when there isn’t any rowing to be done because the sea anchor is out, it’s a slow day for news.

In fact, I spent part of today wondering just why I do this. There must be more effective ways to get the good green word out there. I could have been online, or networking at a conference, or writing articles. However, it occurred to me that the number of waking hours that I spend at sea this year will probably not be so much more than the number of waking hours that the average person spends watching TV, or the average gamer spends playing computer games, and suddenly this doesn’t seem like quite such a waste of time.

This is rather a short blog. I reckon a good blog post should say what it has to say, and then stop. So I will.

Other Stuff:

I hear it is the Slow Living Summit conference in Vermont this week. Today slow living is something I know all about. A big hello to all the delegates, and to Bill McKibben and all the good folk of 350.org.

And an inspiring quote to get your week started – one of my favourites:
“If you think you’re too small to have an impact try going to bed with a mosquito.” (Anita Roddick, founder of The Body Shop)

Photo: me in my NOW hat: No Opportunity Wasted, courtesy of Phil Keoghan, presenter of The Amazing Race.

Sponsored Miles:

Christopher Senn. (Some miles unsponsored.)

No, I haven’t wandered grievously off course. Krakatoa is the book I was listening to today, not where I am. Simon Winchester’s book was, as all his books are, informative, interesting, and well written. I bet he’d be a great dinner party guest.

In 1883 Krakatoa, a volcano in Indonesia, erupted. That is probably rather an understatement. It exploded, rather than erupted. Four cubic miles of rock – the entire volcano – vanished. The sound of the eruption was heard up to 3,000 miles away. The shock waves registered on instruments all around the world. The dust lingering in the atmosphere created dazzling red sunsets worldwide for up to three years afterwards, and caused a dip in global temperatures.

It’s just staggering, the sheer energy of the explosion. Terrifying though the destruction was, there is something quite awe-inspiring about such a magnificent display of raw natural power.

I find it reassuring, in a strange way, that nature can be so powerful (although obviously I prefer to be reminded of this by proxy, in a book, rather than by being tossed around by huge waves). It gives me hope that when humankind is dead and gone, having made a right old mess of the world, nature won’t have any difficulty obliterating any trace that we ever existed. I’d just like that to be later, rather than sooner.

Other Stuff:

The sea anchor is out. All good things come to an end, and my few days of good progress have temporarily stalled. Such is life.

Speaking of life, I didn’t finish “Life”, by Keith Richards. I got rather bogged down in the minutiae of Richards’s early years. Even Johnny Depp’s narration couldn’t get me through it. I may well try it again later, but it’s on hold for now.

Great to get a message from Sarah Outen on my Day 23 blog. Sarah is busy doing a human powered trip from London to London via the world, with limited internet access, so honoured indeed that she checked in to comment on her Tweedles!

Eric – the towel you sent me is indeed coming in handy, although I have a confession to make. It is no longer in its original form. It is a perfect fabric for seat covers – absorbent when in use, and quick to wash and dry so I can keep a constant rotation going. So it is now chopped up into multiple rectangles, and is very much appreciated by my bottom. Thank you!

Pippa – thanks for being concerned about my warmth at night. I didn’t bring my Antarctic jacket – hopefully it’s on its way to Mum’s house along with my other luggage. It does get quite cool at night, but I have a lovely snuggly sleeping bag by Ocean Sleepwear, lined with thick fleece. It’s great, but can be very difficult to get out of in the mornings!

UncaDoug – interested to hear about your friend Gary Braasch’s photographs of Tarawa. I’ll have to check them out when I’m back on land. It’s quite a unique place.

The comments on the bilge pump blog made me laugh out loud. Thank you! Bruce, I’ve been trying to get a tune out of it, but no luck so far. I don’t think I’ve got my embouchure quite right yet. Maybe I’ll have time to practice while the sea anchor is out. Maybe it will sound like a cross between a bassoon and a didgeridoo.

Our latest podcast has gone live. “Today I Am Quite Fond Of The Ocean” (did I really say that?!) is online at Roz Roams.

Photo: There was nothing especially exciting to photograph today, so I thought you might like another picture from the archives – a pic of my Mum, working on my boat in 2005 after she decided “if you can’t beat them, join them”.

Sponsored Miles:

Not many miles rowed today. Gary Stanley, Brad McDonell.

It looks like my new friend the pilot fish has decided to stick around. I tried to take a photograph of him today, but as you can tell, had very limited success. Between the fast to-ings and fro-ings of the fish, and the slow reactions of my camera, he was usually out of frame by the time the shutter fired.

He seems like a curious little chap, interested in anything that gets dangled overboard, like my food mug as I wash it up, or the camera. He looks like one of those stripey sweets (don’t know if they have them in the States) called humbugs, so I think I’m going to call him Humbug. If a fish can be a bug.

There was another, much bigger, creature within ten yards of my boat today. The ocean was dead calm and still all day, with not a breath of wind, so it seemed all the louder when there was a sudden whoosh and a fast-moving Something barely broke the surface, leaving a trail about six feet long. I can’t even guess at what it might have been.

It was hot, hard work at the oars, but I still made good progress. I’m aching, especially my hands and forearms, but it’s nice to finally make some miles. The strong adverse winds that were forecast for the next few days have now been downgraded to more moderate strengths, so we shall see what happens.

I’m rather proud of my accomplishments over the last 3 days, with mileages of 46, 43 and 44 nautical miles respectively. Let’s hope this isn’t a case of pride coming before a fall.

Other Stuff:

Joan – excellent job as casting director. Kate Winslet is great (although too pretty to be me!), as is Helen Mirren. Good call!

Margaret – oh believe me, I do my fair share of yelling at the ocean. When it gives me a big splash at an inopportune moment I absolutely let rip, and it immediately gets all that stress out of my system. Gives me a sore throat, though!

Bruce – thanks for the excellent info on cornstarch bags. We’re still looking for signatures for our plastic-bag-free Olympics campaign – Greener upon Thames.

“Wishing a fabulously Happy 60th Birthday to Marian Binnie this weekend. Maz, I only wish I could be there to party with you, because I have no doubt that you will be celebrating in style, involving gallons of champagne! Have a fab one, and I hope we get to have a belated celebration the next time I see you. Much love.”

Sponsored Miles:

Doug Grandt, Hans Verwey, John Kay. (More than one mile sponsored by kind friends.)

Up front, you need to know that, so far, the perfect ocean rowing day exists only in my imagination. However, this is what it might feel like – close your eyes and try and picture this…. (I leave it to you to figure out how to continue reading my blog with your eyes shut

The ocean is calm, with small rippling waves gently pushing your boat towards your destination. The waves sound a like a babbling brook, gurgling and giggling around the boat’s hull.

The temperature is warm and pleasant, with small puffy cumulus clouds dotting a blue sky, providing occasional moments of welcome shade as they pass across the sun. A soft breeze cools your bare skin, whisking away the perspiration. You have the whole ocean to yourself, with nothing but sea and sky and clear blue space all around you. You have room to think and breathe and just be.

The rowing seat glides smoothly backwards and forwards on its runners, and the oars swivel in the oarlocks as you ply the oars. The boat has acquired its momentum and you’re just pushing it along, each stroke connecting efficiently with the water, the rowing motion easy and fluid, regular as a metronome.

You glance at the GPS and it’s showing a steady rate of progress of 20 knots (okay, that’s just silly. It would be nice, but it’s never going to happen. Let’s keep this realistic. 3-4 knots is good). You watch the miles slowly tick down as you move slowly but surely across the ocean. Your boat is in perfect working order, as is your body, and your mind. You know you can handle whatever the ocean throws at you. You feel happy, confident, and fulfilled.

Okay, now you can wake up. This is a nice fantasy, and may never come 100% true, but today was pretty close. Apart from a slightly wonky wheel on my rowing seat, today was probably as close as I will ever get to ocean rowing nirvana.

Other Stuff:

I’ll enjoy it while it lasts. The forecast is for another day of similar conditions. But come the weekend and all hell breaks loose, with adverse winds hollering at 30 knots and pushing me backwards. Lee my weatherman has advised me to batten down the hatches and chuck out the sea anchor. Sigh.

Today I finished listening to Pardonable Lies, a Maisie Dobbs novel by Jacqueline Winspear. I really, really enjoy these detective stories set in 1930s London. The heroine is immensely likeable, and the plots are well constructed. Then, in a rather radical change of tempo, I started on “Life” by Keith Richards, which starts with him being busted for drugs in Arkansas in the 1970s. It is narrated by Johnny Depp. Need I say more?

A special hello to any of my old OULRC friends who are reading this blog. I was thinking about you today. Natalie – I know you’re there, and thanks for your recent comments. I hope you’re settling in well in Mill Valley and finding some kindred spirits.

And a shout-out to Samudra, who donated some yummy nuts for my voyage. Today I was munching on some Cosmic Love Clusters, and feeling suitably cosmic. And lovely.

Photo: We’ve come a long way… OULRC crew 1988 (I’m in the stroke seat, closest to the camera)

Sponsored Miles:

Our thanks go to David Lewis and Bradley Kehoe.

If only every day on the ocean could be like today, life would be just dandy. I know you’ll tell me that if every day was perfect, then I wouldn’t appreciate it. But couldn’t I try it, just for a little while, to find out, please?

Today brought that rare combination of tranquil seas and fast conditions. There has been nary a splash nor a bash, yet in the last 24 hours I’ve still managed to cover about 46 nautical miles, which is about 52 of your landlubbing miles. Fine progress indeed, especially by contrast with what I’ve endured for the last 10 days or so.

In the non-splashy, sunny conditions, I’ve been able to give everything a good airing too, which has been very good for crew morale. The Purple Palace was starting to develop a distinctly unpleasant swampy quality, with bedding feeling damp and chilly, and various discarded garments festering in wet corners. Woody the Pirate was starting to drop hints about the less than salubrious conditions, and muttering about making me walk the gangplank if things didn’t improve soon. So he and I are both extremely pleased that all is now restored to dryness and good order.

As the icing on the cake of a true Purple Wrapper Day, I saw my first live fish. Sarah Outen, during her Indian Ocean crossing a couple of years ago, acquired quite an entourage of stripey pilot fish underneath her boat. I was starting to take it personally that I hadn’t managed to attract a single one. But today I caught a quick glimpse of a little black-and-white striped visitor. Admittedly, it was swimming away from my boat at the time, rather than towards it, but at least it was a) there, and b) alive, so there is hope.

Other Stuff:

The forecast is for another two good days, then adverse winds over the weekend. We’ll deal with that when we get to it. Meanwhile, I’m making miles while the sun shines.

I’d like to thank Daisy for all her sterling work on the newsletter over the last few years. Daisy has now gone back to work after being a full-time mother for a while, so will be giving up her newsletter duties. I’m having a think about future newsletter strategies. If anybody has any relevant opinions or experiences, I’d be interested to hear.

And just for the heck of it, I’m going to say thanks once again to my dear old Mum. We had a nice chat on the satphone today. So often she just gets to hear all my grumbles, which she bears with never-ending sympathy, love, and understanding, so it was good to be able to share a day of happiness instead!

Sponsored Miles:

Thanks to Lucie Petrickova, Pamela Green, Brad McDonell, some of whom sponsored more than one mile.

Want to know what every accessory-conscious ocean rower will be sporting this season? Here it is, the must-have item for your spring collection…

A bilge pump!

It comes in a very fetching shade of blue, teamed with classic grey, and is invaluable for perking up any locker that is looking a bit wishy-washy.

I never go anywhere without mine!

Seriously though, this really is proving to be this voyage’s indispensable item. On the Pacific that award went to my 12-volt fan, which went everywhere on board with me, out on deck as well as in the cabin, and prevented me from overheating, or at least losing the will to live.

But this year the heat is not a problem, but water in places it shouldn’t be is (not very grammatical, but you get what I mean). The rubber draft-excluding tape worked for a while, but now it has squished down and doesn’t work so well. Luckily the bilge pump makes quick work of getting most of the water out of the lockers – much faster than bailing. Ah, the glamorous life of an ocean rower…

Other Stuff:

Thank heavens, today conditions have calmed down significantly. This has made life on board much more pleasant. Stress levels have dramatically reduced, along with the wave heights.

I hear that Missouri and the UK have also been having extreme winds. My sympathies. And another volcanic eruption in Iceland too. We live in interesting times.

Rochelle – fantastic to hear from you! And thanks in advance for the blog mention. I can’t wait to see the film “Cancerpants”. I’m sure it will be a huge inspiration to many, many cancer patients and their friends and families. I’ll be back in Dallas doing some Nat Geo presentations in Feb 2012. How about we get together then for a screening?

Pippa – my British ensigns usually look fairly weatherbeaten by the end of a voyage, with a few frayed edges – much like me!

Hey Team Steamy! How exciting to hear that Steamy has moved on to a new home. Ah, my word, I often think of those days, when I was a wet-behind-the-ears (and everywhere else!) newbie to seafaring. I wish you many fun-filled voyages aboard Steamy Windows, and hope that the hatches over the bunks don’t still leak on you!

Drifterfour – Devon is one of my favourite parts of the world. So excited to hear about your home-downsizing (or rightsizing!) and I hope you love your new abode.

Bruce – thanks for the info on the megafauna. I’m not quite sure how I feel about trying to lure giant squid up out of the depths at night. That might be testing my nerves a little far. Let me psych myself up for that one!

Richard in DFW – your poetry is terrible, but I’m loving it. Keep it coming!

Sponsored Miles:

Phillip Nixon, Brad McDonell – thanks for sponsoring several miles.

Today I’ve been thinking a lot about my sister, and not just because it’s her birthday (she’s exactly 17 months younger than me). It was more because today I needed every ounce of courage, and my sister was my inspiration.

It’s often helpful, I find, when in an unhappy situation to think of someone in even more challenging circumstances. It makes things seem more tolerable. And today, I was not a happy rower.

The ocean seemed to have got it into its head (if it had one) that ocean rowing is a contact sport. Sedna was repeatedly pummeled by waves, and in the most painful incident, a huge wave completely swamped the deck, tipping the boat almost on her side. There was foaming water everywhere, oar handles went flying, I fell sideways off my rowing seat, and an oar clobbered me hard on the kneecap. Owww.

I felt a little shaken after that, and needed to find some gumption from somewhere. I remembered my sister describing how, during her epic trek on Europe’s Haute Route last year, there were some pretty sketchy sections, on narrow paths along sharp ridges, with high winds thrown in for good measure. Not fun when you’re carrying a big heavy pack on your back, increasing your wind resistance and making you top-heavy.

Suddenly getting back on the rowing seat and facing 20-foot waves didn’t seem quite so bad.

Other Stuff:

The ocean doesn’t quite seem to understand the deal here. In exchange for general discomfort and scariness I’m supposed to be compensated with fast conditions and big daily mileages. But I seem to be getting the worst of both worlds at the moment. I was spoiled last year on the final stage of the Pacific when fast currents gave me a big helping hand and relatively calm seas. I’d be better comparing this row with the Atlantic, which was absolutely brutal. I got through it then and I’ll get through it again now.

Inspiring quote for the day: “A ship is safe in harbour, but that’s not what ships are for.” (William Shedd)

Photo: It’s very difficult to take a photo to convey the size of the waves today. Here’s a pic from the Atlantic in 2005. I’d say today’s waves were about 5 times higher. You’d have to be almost on top of my boat to see it down amidst the waves. (photo by Dan Byles)

Sponsored Miles:

Mariya Gold, Catherine Langford, John Kay. Some miles unsponsored.
–

I was tremendously honoured to receive an award for “Ocean Inspiration Through Adventure” at an event held a few days ago in New York. The event was to commemorate the legacy and life of Jacques Cousteau, and was organized by his granddaughter, Celine. My friend Margaret Lydecker of New York Green Drinks accepted the award on my behalf, as it was tricky for me to get the night off from rowing across the Indian Ocean.

When I was at school or in the Girl Guides, an award was something you received when you’d completed a task, and when it comes to the oceans, the task is so very far from completed. At times it feels like it has barely begun. Critically endangered seafood is still served up in restaurants and sold in supermarkets, tons of rubbish still finds its way into oceans every day, only a tiny proportion of the total ocean area is protected, and ocean acidification caused by excess carbon dioxide continues to threaten all of ocean life as we know it.

But at least these awards show appreciation for those who fight on behalf of our oceans – and there are many out there doing so much more than I am. Awards help encourage the battle weary, and put fresh vigour into campaigns.

And so we keep pushing on, one oarstroke at a time….

Other Stuff:

Today was another rough, tough one. My boat was besieged by boatfillers, juggernauts, and other hostile wave varieties. I would find this easier to tolerate if it meant I was whizzing briskly across the ocean, but progress continues to be slow. The waves seem to suck me backwards almost as much as they push me forwards.

The temperature has dropped too. So far it had been remarkably comfortable and pleasant – usually between 75 and 90 degrees. But today was distinctly chilly, and I wore my neoprene booties for the first time.

A thought for someone who wants a challenge: before his premature death, Timothy Ray had planned to swim the length of California, stopping off along the way to talk to students about climate change. It sounds like an amazing and ambitious plan. Now that Tim is gone, wouldn’t it be fantastic if somebody else decided to take it on as a tribute?

Thanks for the feedback on wind gauges. Okay, I’ll use the finger-in-the-air / British ensign wind gauge for now!

Sponsored Miles:

Gail Brownell, Suwin Chan – thank you!

Following on from yesterday’s blog about the limited area occupied by my squigglometer…

I was daydreaming today about what my future home might look like. For now I am perfectly happy with my “global nomad” (i.e. homeless) status, but maybe one day I will want somewhere to call home.

Time was, back in my materialistic days, when I would drool over the huge estates and sumptuous houses in Country Life, or the chic city mansions in House and Garden.

But not any more. Now they would just make me ponder how much maintenance and upkeep they would require, and how much time and energy to furnish and decorate them, time and energy that I’d rather spend doing other things. The house would end up owning me, rather than the other way around.

Who knows, maybe we’ll see a backlash against the McMansions on their 5 acre plots, stretching the suburbs out far into the countryside. Maybe we’ll see a return to more realistically-sized homes (does a family of four REALLY need 6 bathrooms?!), within walking distance of amenities, leaving more of the countryside for the non-human inhabitants of Planet Earth.

As for me, there was a very nice little guest cottage south of San Francisco that a generous friend allowed me to live in for quite a while in 2007-8. About 700 square feet. One bed, one bath. Add an extra bedroom for guests and that would be perfect.

Or maybe a canal boat. Compact, snug, and if I got tired of the neighbourhood and/or the neighbours it would be easy as pie to move house. Perfect!

(Photo: Splash Protection.)

Other Stuff:

Today was rough. Splish, splash, splosh went the waves, and bish, bash, bosh went the oars. Nothing stylish about it – just trying to get the oars in the water and not get swept overboard. But at least I’m moving, and in vaguely the right direction.

Blue Vision Summit – thanks for the update, David. I thought BVS must be coming up any day now. It was brilliant last time, and I’ve stayed in touch with many of the folks I met there. I will most definitely be with you in spirit. Have a fantastic time, keep pushing the ocean agenda, and enjoy that glass of wine on my behalf!

Bruce – want sargassum? I’ve got sargassum! I see it all the time. I discovered it was quite a haven for wildlife when I pulled some on board to photograph it, and found little brown shrimps on it. Maybe if the big charismatic megafauna continue to be conspicuous by their absence, I will become a connoisseur of seaweed inhabitants instead.

Sponsored Miles:

Bradley Kehoe, Hans Verwey, Nick Perdiew, Courtney Elwood, Larry Grandt, Jennifer Bester, Kamas Industries – thank you for sponsoring Roz’s latest rowing miles.

As I was looking at the wiggly line on my GPS the other day, the line that represents my course, I started wondering what kind of a path it would create if you fixed some kind of a sensor to the top of my head and followed the track in 3 dimensions as I go about my normal onboard routine. The sensor would create a wiggly trail, showing where my head spends most of its time. Let’s call it a squigglometer.

The outer limits of the wiggle would be fairly small. My head rarely goes more than 3 feet into my sleeping cabin, as I sleep with my head towards the hatch and my feet down towards the stern.

Then there are the 7 or so feet of the deck – I move around quite a bit there, to all corners at some point in the day to open a locker, pump water out of a locker, cook meals, go to the bathroom etc, although most of the track would be in a back-and-forwards line above the rowing seat.

And a couple of times a week I might pay a visit to the forward cabin to retrieve some food or a piece of kit. But my head doesn’t go very far in – maybe 2 feet at most.

So overall, my head moves through a space roughly 12 feet long by 6 feet wide by 5 feet 4 inches high. I’ve never been in a prison cell, but I suspect that my domain on board is smaller.

It would be amazing if there was a kind of universal squigglometer, tracking everybody in the world as we go about our business. I suspect that about a hundred years ago, the wiggles would be mostly fairly small and local, like lots of tiny peppercorn curls on the surface of the Earth, as we walked or cycled to our place of work and home again, visiting a few friends or relatives, and the stores, but all within a pretty small radius of home.

Now it would probably be very different, or at least in the western world. People hopping on planes like they were buses. Long commutes. Foreign holidays. All kinds of hectic, crazy wiggles zigzagging across the planet as we whizz around in a frenzy of activity.

Maybe it’s a sign of getting older (all of 43!), but I’m starting to yearn for a less frenetic way of life. A bit less activity, and a bit more time to focus in on the important things. Despite its many shortcomings as a lifestyle, it is one of the things that I cherish on the ocean. A break from the whizzing. Life gets very simple.

So as I sign off for today, I will wish you the best. May your life be happy, and your wiggles be small!

Other Stuff:
Here’s our Roz Roams podcast, “Purple Prevailing”. Thanks Vic Phillipson!

Graham – thanks for your message. Please give your students a big ocean wave from me!

Betsy – great to hear from you! Hope all is well in your good green world.

Seadoo – I haven’t read “The Butterfly Effect” yet, but I completely get the concept. EVERYTHING is connected! That is why EVERYTHING we do matters.

Sponsored Miles:

Margaret Taylor, Curtis Zing, Shannon Fogg. James Borleis, Lance Mamiya

Riding out a bout of thirty-plus knot winds might sound like a dangerously exciting, adrenaline-packed experience, but take it from me, it’s actually not. Or not on a rowboat, anyway.

I am still convinced that my wind gauge underestimates the wind speed. Today it registered 20 knots, but I reckon it was 30 at least. This gauge is a Silva. Has anybody found a really good handheld gauge that you would recommend?

With these kind of wind and waves running against me, all I can do is stick out the sea anchor and retreat to the Purple Palace and wait for things to improve, while watching my little icon on the GPS go somewhere I don’t want it to go. So I mostly leave the GPS turned off, as there’s nothing to be done about it until the wind shifts and/or subsides, and there’s no point in depressing myself.

Today has been quite pleasantly lazy, which makes a nice change. Somebody once said, “One of life’s great pleasures is to be a little bit ill”, meaning that kind of mild illness when you really have no choice but to lie on the sofa all day. You’re ill enough to justify it, but still well enough to enjoy it. Riding out a storm on the sea anchor is much the same. Guilt-free indolence and a good chance to let my body recover. The main difference is that this particular “sofa” has a nasty habit of lurching around somewhat violently.

It’s also rather inconvenient that the Purple Palace has an outdoor en suite. What a funny life, when the most hazardous part of my day is a trip to the bathroom!

Other Stuff:

Timothy Ray is the name of the young friend I mentioned a couple of days ago, whose unexpected death had affected me so profoundly. Thank you to Jessica Crawford for being thoughtful enough to let me know, and to Phil at Scripps for also getting in touch. Phil, I have given my mother a message to post to Tim’s tribute page. My sympathies to you and Tim’s other friends, who I am sure are many in number. We are lucky to have known him.

Mariya – Woody the Pirate and I did have a good chat about Tim, and I think I might have seen a glint of a tear in his little plastic eye. He’s a good listener, to be sure.

Sponsored Miles:

Tom Cotter – Fresno Solar Tour, John Miller, Doug Grandt, Margo Linden Katz

I can say, without fear of contradiction, that breakfast was the highlight of today. It was an exceptionally fine breakfast, and the rest of the day was exceptionally NOT fine, so breakfast wins hands down.

It did actually have a remarkably restorative effect on morale, even more than Woody the Pirate and his cries of “Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!”, which actually just made me want to have the bottle of rum.

To make Roz’s Purple Wonder Breakfast, take the following ingredients (mostly by Wilderness Family Naturals) :

- 2 tablespoons coconut cream (this is the stuff in a jar, not the powder)
- most of a mugful of freeze dried raspberries, leaving just enough room for…
- about a dozen cashew nuts (or any other kind of nut)
- and a handful of pumpkin seeds (or sunflower seeds, or pine nuts)
- big pinch Himalayan sea salt
- teaspoon of Western Australian honey with preserved ginger (optional)

Put them all in a thermos mug, and fill with boiling water. Leave to steep for about half an hour. (Recommended to row while waiting in order to work up good appetite.) Eat while admiring general seascape.

It turns out prettily pink, and very yummy. The blackberry version (coming up when I’ve finished the bag of raspberries) will be pleasingly purple. It was so good, in fact, that I make myself another mugful as an encore.

At one point John Kay (hello John!) and I were talking about producing a book of recipes inspired by my ocean adventures, but also handy for people on road trips who need to make a hot meal using nothing but a few simple ingredients and boiling water. We thought we’d call it “Just Add Water”, which seemed totally appropriate. Who knows, maybe one day we’ll get around to it.

Other Stuff:

Rowing-wise, the day was not so good. Increasingly northerlies, which are due to turn westerly (i.e. the wrong way) and strengthen, probably getting close to 30 knots. The sea anchor is out, and I’m going backwards. Oh, and it’s raining too.

Barracuda, wahoo, or longtom? I’m going with wahoo as the ID on my big fish, as it makes the best rhyme for limericks. But I am slightly distressed to hear that it could be an “emaciated juvenile”. That sounds very sad. And then to end up dead on the deck of a rowboat – just how unlucky is that?!

I still keep scanning the seas for signs of wildlife. But still nothing, apart from this seaweed (see photo). Less now than there was closer inshore, but still some rafts of it around. A shark or whale or dolphin would be a lot more exciting….

But the seaweed did remind me to give a shout-out to the Blue Frontier Campaign and their “seaweed rebels”. Seaweed = marine equivalent of grassroots, and BFC supports all kinds of grassroots efforts to preserve the oceans. My voyage is a project of the Blue Frontier Campaign, a registered 501(c)3 organization that can accept tax-deductible donations on my behalf. So if you know any big spenders who might care to contribute….!!

Sponsored Miles:

Thank you Dan Peschio and Graham Dickie.

Sigh. Crew morale is low today in the Purple Palace (aka the sleeping cabin). Woody the Pirate has been doing his best to cheer me up with a few “Arrrr”s, and “Heave ho, me hearties!” but to little avail.

I seem to have got very stuck in an adverse current on this part of the ocean. The mileages for the last few days have been -6, -7 and -4.

But what has really got me down was the news that the young man who arranged my speaking engagement in San Diego last October has died suddenly. I only spent a couple of days in his company, but he was full of fun, charisma, intelligence, potential, and, well, life. I can’t believe what has happened. If I feel the loss this keenly on such a short acquaintance, I can’t begin to imagine how his girlfriend, family, and friends must be feeling. My deepest, heartfelt sympathies to them.

Not much news filters through to me out here on the ocean, so the little that does tends to make a much deeper impact. I try to believe that everything happens for a reason – after all, if it’s happened, time will eventually reveal the silver lining in the cloud – but sometimes the reason is nigh on impossible to fathom.

Sometimes you’ve just got to be sad, and know that everything has its season, if not its reason. This, too, shall pass.

Photo: trying to find the silver lining in the cloud (taken a week ago)

Sponsored Miles:

Our thanks go to Karin Oswald, Anke Altermann, Rien Scheffer, Ferid Ekmekcioglu, Gail Brownell, Liliana Domenech. Just a reminder that these represent miles that Roz has put effort into rowing, not always progress towards her goal.

Progress is rarely linear. That’s what I keep telling myself. Especially when you’re an ocean rower.

For a few days now I’ve felt like I’m banging my head against a brick wall, except that the “wall” is made up of winds and currents that buck the prevailing east-to-west trend of this part of the Indian Ocean. I just don’t seem to be able to get past this next line of longitude.

This morning I covered the same half-mile of ocean half a dozen times. More of the Big Purple Ergometer exercise as described yesterday. Row out, drift back. By the sixth time I swear the waves were starting to look familiar. Or maybe that was just my mind playing tricks on me.

I’ve been through challenging stages like this before. On my way out from San Francisco I developed quite an intimate relationship with 114 degrees West. I crossed it 5 times in all before finally breaking free. On Pacific Stage 2 it was a line of latitude, six degrees north of the Equator, that was my brick wall.

I’ve learned you just have to keep banging your head against different bits of the wall until eventually you stumble upon the window that lets you through. It’s all about perseverance. And having a hard head. And, really, not having very much choice.

Other Stuff:

Situation unlikely to change in the next few days. The forecast is for a full complement of winds coming at me from around the clock – S, SE, E, NE, N, NW, W, and SW. If the sun would just shine for 24 hours a day, I could stand still in the middle of my deck as my boat turns with the wind and get a perfect all-round suntan, like a chicken on a rotisserie. But alas the forecast is for plenty of rain and stormy weather mixed in with the wind (as I write this blog, rain is pounding on the roof), so I may well be spending a lot of time confined to the cabin.

Speaking of my mind playing tricks on me, there is something on my boat, somewhere, that from inside my cabin sounds exactly like a dog barking. Whenever the waves rise above a flat calm, I hear it. Most peculiar.

Last night I thought I heard a kerfuffle out on deck (as well as the barking dog). I only half woke up, reassured myself that I was unlikely to have intruders, and went back to sleep again. This morning I found the source of the noise – a huge fish, about 2 foot long, was lying neatly between my rowing seat runners. Well, okay, 2 feet isn’t huge compared with a whale shark, but it IS huge compared with the 2-inch flying fish I usually find in the mornings. Not sure how this chap found himself on board, but looking at the size of his teeth I’m glad he was stone dead and stiff as a board by the time I met him.

Expert opinions as to his identity?

I would love to see some LIVE wildlife on this trip, rather than all the dead critters that keep washing up on my deck. When I do, you’ll be the first to know!

I hear that the Climate Ride is arriving in Washington DC today. Go Climate Riders!! I hope to ride with you again next year!

Sponsored Miles rowed – but not quite the right direction.

Joan Sherwood, Courtney Elwood, Rebecca Salgado, David Swig, Bradley Kehoe.

Ergometers are the rowing machines that rowers use for training. An ergo training session is generally tough, exhausting, and you don’t go anywhere. Today on the ocean was a bit like that.

The wind sprang up this morning from an unhelpful quarter. The usual ocean rower’s solution to this problem is to put out the sea anchor to preserve ground gained. So that is what I did.

However, I am in an unhelpful current, too, so the sea anchor only exaggerated the effect of the adverse drift. So I brought it back in again.

I spent the rest of the day carving a zigzag across the ocean. Slowly, slowly, I’d gain a bit of ground. Then I’d stop for a meal break and lose it all again.

You might imagine that this would be the ultimate exercise in futility and frustration, but actually I didn’t see it that way. Even if I wasn’t making much progress, at least I was limiting the damage, and getting a decent workout to boot.

And I’ve learned the hard way that there’s no point getting frustrated with the ocean or the wind. It’s not their fault, and they’re not going to change, just because I want them to.

Nope, I’ll save my emotional energy for people who are willfully contrary, refusing to accept the evidence that we are irrevocably changing our world, or refusing to do anything about it. It might often feel as pointless as arguing with the wind, but surely, one day, it will make a difference, and that hope keeps me going.

Other Stuff:

My purple ergo session today reminded me of the long ergo sessions I used to do with my friends at the South End Rowing Club in San Francisco. So in honour of them, I snapped this shot of me in my SERC beanie. Thanks, guys, and I hope to see you the next time I am in the city.

The other reason I went back to the oars rather that sitting it out on the sea anchor was that I wanted to carry on listening to “The Power Of One”, and the rule is that I can only listen to audiobooks while I am rowing. It’s a good rule!

UncaDoug – loved the story about the Peruvian villagers growing vegetables. Responsibility, empowerment, collective intelligence. Quite possibly the route to solving most of the (human) world’s problems!

Joan – thanks for the book recommendations. The Power Of One is going to be a tough act to follow, so I’ll have a rummage around on my iPod and see what I can find.

John – thanks for the miles, and well done on raising the money by the sweat of your brow!

Christy, and Rick in Colorado – you are absolutely right about the power of one, that in our everyday lives we are setting an example for others. It all contributes to that much-needed cultural shift. No action is too small. It ALL makes a difference.

Rico – good thinking. The placebo effect is mighty powerful.

TC – love the Thomas Jefferson quote. Thanks!

Sponsored Miles:

Joseph Kendall, Hans Verwey, Robert Marshalkowski, Chris Ferreira, Alexandra Stevens, Catherine Thomas, Courtney Elwood, Brent Malmstrom. Thank you for sponsoring these miles – it has been a hard day’s work for Roz.

The ocean has been on its Sunday best behaviour today. No bashing, crashing and splashing. The clouds with legs marched past on the far distant horizon with gently rolling waves and a light breeze. This means I’ve had to work hard for every mile today, and my body is feeling tired, but it has made a very pleasant change to have life on board so comfortable.

I was pushing on today, trying to get out of this pesky south-flowing current and into a more helpful north-flowing one. I should be in it by now, but the GPS readings would suggest otherwise. I’ve had to take the latitude and longitude off the chart to conceal my position, but you get the general idea.

Currents can have a major impact on my direction and progress, yet they are invisible and fluctuate daily. It’s no different from normal human life, when we spend much of our time operating blindly in the midst of the ebb and flow of invisible energies that change constantly, able to sense when we are fighting the current but with not much idea when or if it is going to change direction and give us a helping hand. The currents I have to deal with are just slightly more literal.

Other Stuff:

Further to yesterday’s blog on “The Power of One”, here is a quote I found today, contributed a while ago by Dean, that seems relevant.

“I am only one; but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something. I will not refuse to do the something I can do.” (Helen Keller)

I’m continuing to do my bit of cloud-ology each day for the NASA S’COOL project. Twice a day I have an excuse to down oars, as I take observations and a photo of the clouds from beneath, as one of the NASA satellites records data from above. It makes a nice little break in the day, and hopefully contributes some useful data from a rather unusual location.

The prize for today’s prettiest cloud goes to this very attractive kind of corkscrew-effect cloud, with its own little mini-me alongside. Not quite sure how you’d categorise it – a cumulus with a cirrus on top? Doug – maybe you can offer a suggestion?

Sponsored Miles:

Nancy Reidy-Crofts, Michael Dickman, Ugo Pistacchio, John Miller, Rowan Eastwood, Joseph Kendall. Michael Guy, Ian Wilkie, Cynthia Ford – thanks for sponsoring Roz to row these miles.

PS from Rita: I have become aware of the problem with the Sponsor page by Nomaddica and have sent a message to the person responsible for setting it up. Hope it will be resolved soon.

Today I’ve been thoroughly enjoying the audiobook of Bryce Courtenay’s “The Power Of One” (as first mentioned yesterday). I think he’s leading up to the power of one person to make a difference – we haven’t got to that bit yet, but meanwhile I’m relishing the journey, and it has sparked off my own line of thinking on the power of one.

I’m a real believer in tipping points. Given the right circumstances, even the tiniest of actions can tip the balance and make a huge difference to the course of history. A black woman taking a seat on a bus. A dimpled chad on a voting form. A speech. A single remark that changes the chemistry of a delicate negotiation.

Very few of us will ever get the chance to take that momentous action that changes the world. But we all get the chance to contribute to the circumstances in which that action occurs.

If you picture it like a balance scale, with millions of marbles being loaded onto the pans. Maybe for decades, or centuries, marbles have been piling up on one side. Given my eco-leanings, let’s illustrate this example by calling this side “unlimited growth” – growth of profits, population, consumption, etc.

But more recently marbles have started to gather on the other side. More and more of them. Let’s call this side “sustainability”. Every time we say no to a plastic bag, or walk instead of drive, or decide we really don’t need yet another gizmo, we are adding another marble to the side of sustainability.

We probably won’t add the marble that tips the balance. We might not even be alive when that happens. But that doesn’t mean that our marble doesn’t count. In fact, every marble counts. The tipping point can’t be reached without each and every marble on that scale pan.

And that’s why we all keep plugging away, doing what we can. One oarstroke at a time.

Other Stuff:

Today was less like a chocolate, more like a sandwich. A sunshiney sandwich with rainy bits on the outside. Started off rainy and grey, got lovely in the middle, then ended with a good old downpour. Even during the sunny part I could see lots of clouds with legs around me. I try to dodge the legs, but can’t really row fast enough. With these giant leggy clouds tramping across the ocean around me, I feel like a mouse at a barn dance, trying to avoid being trodden on!

Another deceased needlefish on the deck this morning. Poor thing had ended up in the “bathroom” (underneath the bedpan). What an undignified place to meet his end. There again, isn’t that where Elvis died too?

Thanks for the brilliant suggestions on pirate names, on Facebook as well as on the comments. “Salty Rozen Dog, Bare Butt of the High Seas” made me laugh (thanks, Walt Wilson), but I think I’m going to have to go with Bryan Fuller’s suggestion of “The Purple Pirate”. Simply perfect!

Thanks also for the suggestions on seasickness. I do actually have some ginger tea, which I’m sure would have worked a treat, except that it was so rough I didn’t really want to be doing a juggling act with cooking stoves and boiling water in the dark. Isn’t that just always the way; that the time when you need a cup of tea or good hot meal is precisely the time when it’s most difficult to make one!

The quease has now eased, thank you. I don’t suffer anywhere near as much as poor old James of “Crossing The Ditch” fame (kayaking across the Tasman). I think he was still suffering on Day 40!

Sponsored Miles:

Thanks for today miles go to: Sharon Levin, Robert Mainville, Calvin Burnes, Nancy Bowman, Leslie Layton, Anke Altermann, Christopher Senn, Larry Grandt, Bradley Kehoe, Nancy Reidy-Crofts.

As Friday the Thirteenths go, I suppose this one could have been worse. A strange variety of weather, with storm clouds passing over and dumping rain on me from time to time, and creating strange local wind systems so I haven’t known from one hour to the next what to expect. All a bit challenging, but managed a few miles in more or less the right direction (more of the less, maybe).

It can be quite spectacular, though, to look around a 360 degree horizon and see all kinds of weather going on round about. Especially those big black clouds with “legs” of rain. A bit like living in Kansas, I suppose. The weird thing was how many insects turned up when things got stormy. There were a couple of moths, a reddish gangly insect that kept landing
on me, and a couple of flies. Where did they come from?!

As we head into night, the ocean is rough and the waves are crashing. Sometimes I wish I could turn off the wind machine, just for a little while, so I could get a solid night’s sleep.

Other Stuff:
Maybe I was expecting too much of Ken Follett. I finished “Pillars of the Earth” yesterday, and much as I hate to say anything negative, I just didn’t really get into it. The reader wasn’t the best, which doesn’t help, but the characters just didn’t come alive for me. And the scenes of violence and rape made me feel rather queasy. I guess life in 12th century England probably WAS nasty, brutish and short, but that doesn’t necessarily make for an enjoyable book. So then I read a Jodi Picoult book, set in the Amish community, called “Plain Truth”. Much better. She tells such a good story, and I really find myself caring what happens to the characters.

And now I’ve just started “The Power of One”, by Bryce Courtenay. Absolutely brilliant so far, and extra-interesting because it is set in South Africa (where my mother grew up) and the main character is just a few years older than Mum, so interesting to find out a bit more about the South African Culture around the time of World War II.

Joan – loved the quotes from the Ric Elias TED Talk. What a great attitude.

Cheryl Cook – thank you so much for sharing your story. What an inspiration you are! It must take real strength to pull yourself out of a depression and turn things around. I haven’t listened to the TED Talk that Joan recommended, but it strikes me that when you consider what to do next, it might be relevant, e.g. he thought of “all the experiences I wanted to have and never did”. Can’t wait to hear what you decide to do!

Ken and Marilyn – lovely to hear from you! Can’t say I’ve tried maple cream. The “maple” bit sounds good, but maybe I’ll just stick to the syrup.

Roger Finch – hello stranger! Good to hear from you. I’ll be in Dallas with National Geographic (as well as Phoenix) on the USA 2012 Tour, so maybe I’ll get to see you then?

California Rower – at one point there was mention of a Rozberry Ripple flavour ice cream, but as for chocolates, anything associated with me would have to include pecans and, of course, caramel!

Eric – coconut chocolate, yuck! Agree that’s the worst. In the UK there’s the Bounty bar, which is chocolate with that shredded plasticky stuff in the middle. You couldn’t pay me enough….

Thanks also for the info on Dutchmen’s trousers (especially from Hans, a real live Dutchman). As the saying goes, I’m better informed but none the wiser!

Thanks for all the tips on recycleable toothbrushes. I’ll check them out when I get back to dry land, as the FedEx service out here is not as good as “Castaway” would have us believe!

Here’s our latest podcast Roz Roams with Vic Phillipson. Enjoy!

And finally, I’d like to give a friendly shout-out to Aimee, who very kindly sends me a digest of the blog comments. Thanks for faithfully doing your duties every day!

And thanks also to Nick Jaffe, creator of this website, as well as round-the-world sailor, Aussie, entrepreneur, and all-round good guy.

Sponsored Miles:

Roz has rowed miles sponsored by: John Herrick, Jonathan Tay, Wesley Collins, David Hackett, Gail Brownell, Maureen Edwards, Andrea Bailey (Earthrace Conservation), John Pamplin, Calvin Burnes. Grateful thanks for their contributions.

It occurred to me after I had written my blog the other day, and referred to Zen Dog, that some folks may not know who I was talking about. So let me introduce my favourite role model while I am on the ocean.

Tada! Zen Dog. (Zen Dog ambles slowly on from stage left and smiles a beatific smile, bows, and moseys off to exit stage right.)

I hope you can read it okay from the photo, but in case it’s too low-res, it is a poem by Edward Monkton that says:

He knows not where he’s going
For the ocean will decide
It’s not the destination…
…It’s the glory of the ride.

Zen Dog was given to me by my friend Romy Shovelton before I rowed the Atlantic, and has been velcroed to the wall of my sleeping cabin ever since.

On days like today, when I seem to have rowed hard for little result, Zen Dog helps preserve my sanity. After all, this voyage is not about speed, it’s about quality. To quote from one of my favourite books, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, it’s about making good time, with the emphasis on “good” rather than “time”.

One of the joys of being out here (and I’m getting better at finding these joys all the time) is that I’m on my own timetable. By contrast with my land-based life, in which I often feel like I’m chasing my own tail in an ever-faster whirl of busy-ness, life at sea has its own pace. I find that if I try to do tasks faster than they were meant to go, they don’t go so well.

That’s also why I enjoy nostalgic books like the James Herriot series (All Creatures Great And Small etc). Seems like back then life moved at a more manageable pace. And you know what? Enough still got done.

Easy for me to say now, on Day 9. By Day 99 I might be feeling a bit differently, and by Day 149 I’d be decidedly hungry!

Other Stuff:

There are definite signs that I am making progress. As I head north and west (and, of course, as we move further into southern hemisphere winter), the sunrise is getting later, but so is the sunset. Unfortunately they’re still getting closer together, so every hour of daylight is precious. Currently sunrise is at 07.11, and sunset at 18.04. A few days ago sunrise was around 07.05, and sunset at 17.59.

Last night was a really rough one. Not much sleep was had, as waves crashed into the boat. No wonder I was feeling a bit seedy around bedtime. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to get horizontal after writing my blog!

BTW, as a PS to the leaky locker story, I just wanted to put on record that I couldn’t have used the draft-seal tape on the locker where the watermaker pump used to be. It’s a different design, and the tape wouldn’t have helped. Just so you know.

I’m still working on my pirate name. It’s rather difficult to find one that doesn’t sound boastful. A radio interviewer who spoke to me while I was in Geraldton described me as “indomitable”, which I took as a great compliment. Captain Indomitable? Or Mad Roz McRower, Scourge of the High Seas?! Or, after Rico’s epic poem (bravo, Rico!) and in honour of Zen Dog, maybe I should stick with Skipper Serene?

Matt McFadyen – good to hear from you. Hope all is going well as an Aussie in California, and that you’re finding the natives friendly!

Sponsored Miles:
Thanks for today’s miles: Nick Perdiew, Anna Wildy, Brent Mashburn, Don Lindsay, Nate Beery, Will Hawkins, Michael Guy, Diane Freeman, Christine McNab, John Herrick.

It was a week ago today that I set out from North Island in the Abrolhos, which now officially counts as the first day of this voyage. It has been a week of ups and downs, forwards and backwards and round-about. I’ve covered about 214 nautical miles, which is nearly 250 statute miles. That’s about average, although it has included the extremes, one day 72 miles forwards, another day 11 miles backwards.

You’ll have to excuse me. I’m not feeling very inspired tonight. In fact, it’s really rough out here and, truth to tell, I’m feeling a bit queasy sitting in the cabin working at my laptop. I felt it was about time for a philosophical blog, but I’m not really feeling up to it. Pretend for a moment that you’re on the ocean, riding the waves, and trying to type on your laptop. Not easy. I need to make this one short, so I’ll tell you about some of the technical things.

A few things around my boat that are innovations since my first row, and help make life a bit more tolerable on board.

1. Seat pad that clips on and clips off: the pad itself is made by Bottomsiders, and I cover it in a cut-down Packtowl that can be rinsed and dried after each shift. The whole apparatus gets unclipped at night and brought into the cabin, to keep it safe and dry.

2. Markers on rudder strings (seen here with my Oceanswatch.org sticker
) to show me when the rudder is set straight. I made these markers by sewing ribbon securely onto the rudder strings. No way that can wash off!

3. Adjustable height on oarlocks: using the washers, see here below and above. The oars can be set lower on flat water, higher on rough. Or one high, one low if the weather is coming at the boat sideways on.

4. Tool for opening round hatches: can you imagine how frustrating it would be if I couldn’t get to my food supplies?!

5. Cleat for pulling in sea anchor tripline: makes life so much easier. ‘Fraid that’s about my limit for tonight. Feeling really quite rough.

I’ve never thrown up inside my cabin, and I don’t intend to start now, so will sign off before I push my luck.

And I most definitely do not want to think about chocolates in any way, shape, form or colour….

Sponsored Miles:

David Gilbert, Scott Wagner, George Smith, Philip Nixon, David Tangye, Stanley Miller, Doug Grandt, Gillian Colledge, Bob Smith, Sarah Watson, Brent Malmstrom, Cynthia Ford, Richard Nelson, David Shaw, Deborah Keeley, David Cameron.

In yesterday’s blog, I expressed the hope that in life’s box of chocolates, today might turn out to be the one with a purple wrapper and a caramel filling.
I wouldn’t say that today was a perfect day (as in, I didn’t break any of my personal best records), but overall it was an awful lot better than yesterday, and that in itself is enough to earn today the Order of the Purple Wrapper.

And in honour of that, I am going to list my top 5 favourite purple things.

1. Dried blueberries (by Wilderness Family Naturals) – absolutely yummy in my Organic Oats2Go porridge, along with dried sliced bananas, sunflower seeds, and salt. The perfect blend of salt and sweet.

2. Amethyst – not exactly part of my rowing regime, but I am very fond of the amethyst necklace currently sitting safely in my rucksack in the fore cabin. After my original amethyst necklace was stolen in Papua New Guinea last year (along with the rest of my very small store of jewelry) this one was bought for me in Istanbul by my friend Umit while I was there for the World Coastal Rowing Championships last year. Amethyst is supposed to be conducive to clear thinking. Sounds good to me!

3. Toothbrush – part of my getting-ready-for-bed ritual, symbolic of the end of the day’s rowing. Glorious though it is in its purpleness, it is horribly plastic. Has anybody found a good alternative to “disposable” plastic toothbrushes?

4. Sleeping bag liner – one of my favourite moments of the day, when I snuggle into its soft purpleness inside my fleecy Ocean Sleepwear sleeping bag and lay my weary head to rest.

5. Sedna – Her Royal Purpleness, Queen of the Ocean. What more can I say? She used to be silver, but since her new paint job, it couldn’t be clearer that she was born to be purple.

Other Stuff:

Samurai – you asked if I can see the Southern Cross. Yes, absolutely! You can actually see the Southern Cross from a little way north of the Equator, so I am well into Southern Cross territory here.

Tumbleweed Truckers and Dave – thanks for the additional perspectives on fear. I agree with the approach of moving towards our fears. When you shine the bright light of reason on them, they are usually so much less fearful than we imagine. I would go so far as to apply this to the fears that many people have about the future of our planet. All too often the reaction is to go into denial, or to abdicate responsibility. If we were collectively more willing to address the problem, it really is not so intractable. More on that in another blog. UncaDoug – you know what I mean!

Brent – I’ll be speaking in AZ next year for National Geographic, in Phoenix. Not sure how far that is from Scottsdale, but hope I might see you and your wife there!

Oops, laptop battery running at 12%. Last night it took me many attempts to get my blog uploaded, so I’d better start trying now before I run out of juice!

Sponsored Miles:

Noelle Sadinsky, Richard Butcher, Suwin Chan, David Gilbert, Scott Wagner – a shorter list of names because some names represent a number of consecutive miles sponsored. We are extremely grateful for all sponsors.

I thought you might find this interesting. It gives some insight into the challenges of cooking and eating on board, and as living on a rowboat is a bit like camping-on-the-sea, keen campers might find it useful.

1. Jetboil stoves are brilliant. In the past I’ve used camping stoves, electric kettles and gimballed Seacook stoves, but the Jetboil is far and away the best system I’ve used. Fast, compact and efficient. But I’m glad I brought a number of spare lighters, because the ignition unit is a major weak point in the system. (Thanks, Rob at Sea To Summit, for the Jetboil, and for the warning about the ignition!)

2. Make your freeze-dried meal in a thermos mug, not the bag that it comes in. If you make it in the bag, you have smelly rubbish to carry around with you. The mug is washable, and also means you can allow the meal longer to rehydrate fully without it going cold.

3. Latte spoons are really good for making sure you stir the water into the freeze-dried food properly, getting all the bits out of the corners. It’s so horrible getting to the end of your dinner and finding a corner of the meal that didn’t get mixed in and is all dry and hard.

4. Waterproof containers for everything. I’d have lost a lot more food in the Great Flood of the Galley Locker if not for Tupperware and Aquapacs.

5. For eating in high winds (like today), so far the best tactic I’ve found is to wear a wide-brimmed sunhat (Sea To Summit makes a good one) and face away from the wind as you attempt to transfer food from mug to mouth. The brim provides a windbreak, so I end up eating more and wearing less of my dinner.

The next time you’re eating your meal outside your tent while gazing contentedly into your campfire, just imagine trying to prepare your meal on a pitching boat, juggling stove and spoon and mug and trying not to lose anything overboard. It definitely adds a certain liveliness to the cooking experience!

Other Stuff:

If the ocean is like a box of chocolates, then today was the chocolate that nobody wants. This is where I realise I really don’t know American chocolates, so I may require a cultural interpreter for my US readers. What is the most popular American box of chocolates, and which is the dud flavour that gets left behind in the tray?

The chocs we got at Christmas in our house in Britain were generally Quality Street. Everyone wanted the one in the purple wrapper (hazelnut in caramel). I think nougat was probably the least popular. Today was definitely a nougat kind of a day.

There was a thunderstorm crashing and flashing for most of last night, and it rumbled on well into today, with heavy grey skies and constant rain. This makes life on board very wet and uncomfortable. Skin chafes, cabins moulder, spirits are low.

Add to that the fact that I finish today 11 miles further away from my destination than I was this time last night, and all in all, I’m glad today is over. Let’s hope tomorrow has a purple wrapper on it!

Photos:
At least I had some company today. This bird bobbed around near my boat for a few minutes. Sorry it’s not a better photo. Any ID possible?

Enough blue to patch a Dutchman’s trousers, as the saying goes. Can anyone tell me the origin of the saying? And/or suggest why Dutchmen’s trousers are different from anybody else’s?!

Sponsored Miles:

Wolfgang Stehr, Eugene Capeder, Larry Grandt, Laurie McGillivray, Kathleen Donigan, Jo Fothergill, Niland Mortimer, Marian Payne (Mimi), Sam Mauri, Tanya Babalow, Gail Brownell, Margarita Frias, Curtis Zingg, Shannon Fogg, James Borleis, David Quinlan, John Newsom, Chris Young – thank you for helping Roz to row these miles.

The ocean is not VERY much like a box of chocolates, being considerably larger and very much wetter, but it IS like a box of chocolates in the Forrest Gump sense, i.e. you’re never quite sure what you’re going to get.

Having spent more than 365 days at sea (I’ve rather lost count of the precise number since my anniversary), I can safely say that no two days have been the same. There is an infinite number of permutations of wind speed, wind direction, current speed, current direction, wave height, wave frequency, wave steepness etc.

Every day it is a challenge to try and figure out the best way to handle the conditions so as to get the best combination of miles covered and an accurate course. There are some days when I could happily cover 50+ miles, but they would all be in the wrong direction. Not much point in that.

And other days when I claw my way seemingly inch by inch across the ocean. And very occasionally it’s just neutral, like rowing on a lake on a calm day. But that is VERY occasional. It’s happened maybe once.

I sometimes find myself resorting to the weirdest rowing techniques. Yesterday I was mostly rowing with the right oar only, kind of working against the rudder. If I rowed with both oars, the boat would swing round to a different angle to the waves and I would end up on the wrong course. Hard to explain – you would have to try it to see what I mean.

I haven’t discovered any real science to it. I wouldn’t be able to conjure up a flowchart that said, “if this and this, then do this”. It’s more a case of trying various things and seeing what works best.

And sometimes you just have to negotiate a compromise. Mother Nature is a tough negotiator, though, and usually ends up getting the best of the bargain. Often I have to go with her plan, and hope to negotiate a better deal the following day. Ultimately, though, it’s her show, and I just have to take what I’m given and do the best I can with it.

So I might have wanted the chocolate with the caramel filling, but if Mother Nature gives me the strawberry cream (yuck), then I just have to decide that strawberry cream isn’t so bad after all. In fact, come to think of it, where’s my chocolate stash….?

Other Stuff:

A glorious sunrise today. Sun in the east, rainbow in the west. Spectacular!

I hear that my visitor (albeit a rather dead one) was a needlefish, and that they can leap at speeds up to 38 mph. That could have been really painful if it had been me and not my bucket that copped it! As to how the fish got into the bucket, Patricia, who knows? It either rode in on a wave crashing over the side of my boat, or it jumped and just happened to land plumb in the bucket.

Rico – interesting that you should suggest I need a nom-de-row (or rame). My friend Mariya, who loaned me Woody the Pirate, suggested I needed a pirate name, which seems like a similar concept. Captain Courageous was a very generous suggestion. At the moment I merely aspire to be Captain Competent, but I agree that’s not very exciting. Or maybe, inspired by my Zen Dog role model, I should aim to be Captain Zen? Or Skipper Serene? Any other ideas warmly welcomed!

Jay – thanks for the beautiful quote on success by Ralph Waldo Emerson or similar. Something to aspire to indeed!

Beverly – I am MOST impressed with your 4-hour ergo marathon! Thanks for showing solidarity and sharing the joys of seat rash! Yes, I do some stretching, although it’s not that easy on a tippy rowboat. My favourite is to stand with one foot on either side of the footwell, just in front of the hatch to my sleeping cabin. I hang onto the “rollbar” over the top of the cabin, where all the antennas etc are mounted, and do a cat stretch. It feels SOOOO good! Loved the limericks too. “Launch” and “paunch” was an inspired rhyme!

I used to call myself homeless. Now I prefer to say that I am a citizen of the world. Happy Mother’s Day to all American Mothers (the fourth Sunday of Lent Is Mother’s Day in UK). May your children be happy and successful and never give you grey hairs by rowing across oceans!

Sponsored Miles:

Gratitude to : Patti Lauer, Geoff Young, Kenny Runnerduck, Todd Lowe, Geoff Young, Valerie Price, Doug Grandt (for Linda) and Wolfgang Stehr.

People often ask me if I get scared, being alone out on the ocean, so I thought it might be worth blogging a few thoughts on the subject.

First of all, yes I do get scared, even after all this time at sea. Since I set out from Fremantle I’ve been in some big waves, and the boat has been knocked down four times as well as subjected times beyond count to those cruel waves I call juggernauts and boatfillers. This is especially unpleasant at night, when I’m inside my cabin attempting to sleep. After a couple of clobberings I find I’m bracing myself every time I hear an oncoming wave, and really wishing I was anywhere else.

When that happens, I have to try and rationalize my fear away. My boat has suffered worse onslaughts before. I have survived worse nights before. Provided I stay in my cabin, strapped to my bunk, there’s not too much harm I can come to. If I get really scared I can put my crash helmet on. It’s not really rational to be scared in that situation, but I don’t think I’d be human if I wasn’t.

Then there’s fear of serious problems. That was the kind of fear that clutched at my heart when I realized my solar panels weren’t working properly. The problem wouldn’t have been fatal, but would have had a major impact on the enjoyability of this voyage. Luckily I was in a position to do something about it, by pulling in at the Abrolhos for repair. It would not have been wise to push on regardless and hope for the best. Many fears can be allayed by facing up to the issue and taking appropriate pre-emptive action.

Then there are the 3am fears, the kind that haunt those vulnerable hours of the night. Such as: 1) Being run down by a container ship. 2) Having my arm bitten off by a shark. 3) Being attacked by pirates. The chances of any of these things happening are minimal, but the potential downside is huge. I just have to remind myself that I’ve done all I can to prevent them… and it also helps to remind myself that these fears always seem so BIG at 3am, but generally vanish come the first rays of the morning sun.

It helps to have faith. There are lots of things an ocean rower can have faith in – God/a god, a good luck charm or mascot, the strength of their boat, their own ability to cope, or the belief that what they are doing might contribute something to their own personal growth or to the greater good of their fellow humans. Any or all of the above. They all help put the fear into perspective, and make it more bearable.

And if all else fails, I find that putting on a pair of happy socks (credit to Sarah Outen’s mum) and singing “Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life” helps too!

Other Stuff

Tonight is thankfully extremely un-scary. It is quite and calm, and I’m looking out across a dark, silent ocean with a beautiful crescent moon painting a path across the gentle waves, and the stars twinkling a reminder of the grand cosmic scale of the universe. Right now, fear seems very far away, and I wonder how anybody could ever imagine the ocean a scary place.

A respectable 42 nautical miles today – not as spectacular as yesterday, but a heck of a lot more comfortable.

I am delighted to report that my experiment with the draft-sealing tape around the galley locker hatch was a resounding success. I have now extended the experiment to two further hatches, and have now used up all the tape.

I was using today’s mild conditions to dry out various lockers, and discovered to my chagrin that water had got into my Oats2Go and some of my sprouting beans. Unfortunately the beans had swelled inside their bags and burst out of them, making the worst mess I’d seen since a tube of shower gel and a bag of nuts both exploded in my rucksack during a flight last year, creating a nutty green gooey mess all over everything. I have done my best to salvage the Oats2Go – see photo.

Our latest Roz Roams podcast with Vic Phillipson is now live.

Good luck to Alec Loorz. I’m glad to see someone holding government accountable for the trashing of our planet, and wish him all the best with his campaign – and those in the other 24 countries holding marches tomorrow. I was most impressed with the young people I met in Copenhagen at COP15 in 2009. Their passion and eloquence gave me hope for the future. Go Alec!

Uwe – thanks for introducing me to the idea of the Big Five for Life. Now I’m pondering what my Big Five things (to do, see, or experience) would be. Hmmm, material for a future blog.

Bruce – thanks for the limericks. Limericking is horribly contagious, isn’t it?!

Photos: happy socks courtesy of Smartwool at Sea To Summit (please overlook toes in dire need of pedicure!)
Oats2Go drying out in the sunshine

Sponsored Miles:

Doug Grandt, Lance and Kay Mamiya, Bradley Kehoe, Dennis Baum, Charles Uyeda Jr., Sindy Davis, John Ash, Larry Grandt. Not many names today, but some of these have sponsored quite a number of miles each, for which many thanks.

Today has been exceptionally productive, with 62 nautical miles (about
71 normal miles) under my belt. That’s more than a whole degree of
longitude. Woohoo! I would say I am well and truly past the point of no return now – and hopefully there will be no more reasons why I would need to.

Of course, there’s no such thing as a free lunch, and no such thing as
free miles either. The conditions that have lent themselves to such a
magnificent tally have made life rather uncomfortable at times. As well
as the general bounciness and sporadic drenchings throughout the day, I
opened my galley (kitchen) locker today to find my food supplies and
kitchen equipment floating around in about a foot of water.

This locker had been leaking since the start, but this was getting
ridiculous. I was especially upset to find my last chunk of Jarlsberg
cheese swimming around with everything else. It doesn’t seem to have
suffered too badly. I’ll still eat it, at least until and unless it
turns green. Even I draw the line there. The last of my bread had to go
overboard to feed the fish today when it developed a fine growth of
green beard.

Something had to be done, or at least attempted, to resolve the leaky-galley problem, so I got out the roll of insulation tape that Glenn had brought over to the Abrolhos at my request. I’ve bunged it in around the seal, and so far it seems to be helping. The real proof of the pudding will be when I open up the locker tomorrow morning, after a
night that will doubtless see Sedna copping a few boatfillers.

Other Stuff:

Happy Birthday to Cath Davidson on North Island today. Sorry I wasn’t around to celebrate with you, but I’m sure you were glad to see me on my way, as I was getting really rather fond of your island home!

Sorry I forgot to attach the photos of my fishy yesterday. Not quite sure what happened there. So here they are. Wasn’t he a handsome fellow?

It is an annoying quirk of my satphone/email software that it shows me that I have messages coming in, but then makes me wait a day or two before revealing them to me. I saw the messages being downloaded, but my inbox appears empty. Then one day, apparently at random, they will appear.

So the upshot of this is that I still haven’t received any comments to respond to, and my laptop battery is about to go flat so if I’m going to get this blog on its way I’m going to have to sign off now. I prefer to do my recharging while the sun is up, as it’s better for the batteries if I make hay while the sun shines.

I hope you’re still out there, and that you’re still commenting, and I’ll get back to you just as soon as I can!

Sponsored Miles – not only has Roz done excellent mileage, but owing to other responsibilities, there was a longer gap between my readings of her position, so these miles represent 27 hours, not 24. Grateful thanks to all of these sponsors, some of whom sponsored more than one mile.

Kimberley Hughes, Lance and Kay Mamiya, Alun Rees, Thomas Johnson, Kapil Suvarna, Doug Grandt (for Beth and Larry). James van Bemmel. David Redman, Bleddyn Williams, Robert Anderson, Victoria Stanbach, Alan and Sharon Bosse, Maria Cristina Gallo Suarez, Gretchen Olson Kopp, Doug Grandt (for Garrett) Chris Oram, Rahmat Redzuan, Mary Kadzielski, Tamara, Kuropas, Hans Verwey, Brad McDonell, Rosi Hey, Michelle Urquart, Johnny Raven, John Miller, Ian Hamby, Barbara Nock (for Save Scotland’s Seals from being killed), Doug Grandt (for Shelley), Vic (Sam) Jones, Laura Prouty, Graham Pugh, Mike Matthias, Lachlan Cotter, Gail Brownell, Doug Grandt (for Paulina), Jim Little, Victoria Stanbach, Laura McDonell.

I’d been a bit disappointed not to see more wildlife on my meandering way up the coast of Western Australia. There again, as most Australian wildlife seems to want to bite you, sting you or eat you (as Steve Irwin learned to his cost), maybe I was better off without it.

I did see a little bit of wildlife today, but I don’t think you’re going to be too excited about it. When I came out on deck this morning, I noticed a long, thin, black object in the ship’s all-purpose bucket (NB: NOT used for lavatorial purposes). Upon closer inspection, this turned out to be a fish like the one I found in the footwell on one of the Pacific stages. I can’t remember what it was called.

Whatever it was, it was very dead, and didn’t even have enough meat on it to make a decent breakfast.

I’ve seen various birds, which so far have defied my attempts to photograph them. I have also found incriminating evidence that birds have been roosting on the forward cabin, former haunt of the infamous booby birds, but I have yet to catch the culprits red-handed. Except that birds don’t have hands, so maybe I should say red-wing-tipped? Red-beaked? Red-footed?

Dearie me, only Day 2 and already I seem to be driveling. Onto something more edifying….

Other Stuff:

To get me back into nautical mood, my first audiobook of this third-time-lucky row was “Two Years Before The Mast” by Richard Henry Dana. My word, their ship makes my rowboat look like a luxury cruiser. Hard tack and salt beef. Not a moment to themselves. Tyrannical captains. Cheered me up no end.

There are long passages where he’s describing the set of their sails that made little sense to me, but I still loved them. There’s something very poetic about the old-fashioned sailing terminology, like the shipping forecast, that whether you understand it or not makes it lyrical to listen to – all that talk of topsails and fo’c'sles and royals and jibs and whatever.

It was also fascinating to hear his descriptions of the California of around 1830, before the gold rush. There was barely anybody there. Dana was definitely on the money with his top tip that San Francisco would make a superb site for a city. How right he proved to be!

I haven’t had any new comments through at the time of writing, so will respond to those next time around.

I chatted with Dane Golden at Hey! today – I think he does that as a podcast as well as a live show, so hopefully you can track it down.

Also recorded with Vic for our weekly podcast, which should be available for download in the next day or so.

So it has really been rather a chatty day for me. Two whole conversations with humans, plus a few words of consolation to the dead fish, and one tirade at a wave that gave me a badly-timed drenching. I’ve been positively garrulous!

Oh, and I suppose I should say something about rowing too. Lee, my weatherman in Minnesota, had set me a waypoint to try and position me well for upcoming currents. And I’m just about there. Hurrah!

Watermaker – check. Solar panels – check. Batteries – check. All is well on board the good ship Sedna.

Sponsored Miles

Thanks today go to: Walter Sedriks, Patrick Harney, James van Bemmel, Margaret Taylor, Todd Lowe, John Wasko, Jay Cosuico, Gail Brownell, Nick Black, Heit Poppinga, David Church, Doug Grandt, Kimberley Hughes, Mark Reid, Steve Penners, Tumbleweed and Jim Little.

Today I bade farewell to my new friends on North Island and headed out into the open ocean. It was a slightly odd occasion, and it was hard to figure out what the etiquette should be.

What should I say to people who 2 days ago had never heard of me, yet had taken me in as if I were their own kith and kin? Not only had they supported me through the nerve-wracking hours as I waited to find out if my voyage was still viable, but I had also been with them through their own drama. Their lifeline to the mainland is the carrier boat. It delivers provisions to the island, and then on the return leg takes the crayfish to Geraldton. On yesterday’s run it had run out of fuel, resulting in a heap of dead crayfish and a huge financial loss to the island’s fishermen. It had been an intense 48 hours for all of us.

So it was with very mixed feelings that I departed this last outpost of humanity and embarked on the Indian Ocean, with a rather lame “Bye… see you later!”

Within a few hours the golden beaches of North Island had disappeared from sight, and at last I finally felt the freedom of the open ocean, and at the same time the confinement of my little boat. For the next 4 months or so, these 23 feet of purple-painted carbon fibre will be my home, my transport, my life support capsule and my prison cell.

Inspired by the royal wedding (I spent my last hour ashore flipping through gossip mags fresh off the carrier boat, featuring gushy descriptions of the recent nuptials)…. for better for worse, for rougher and calmer, in sickness and in health, it’s you and me, Sedna.

Other Stuff:

A final thank you to my new friends on North Island, particularly Cath and Mike Davidson. Cath packed me off today with 3 rounds of sandwiches and an apple. It felt a bit like I was being sent off to school rather than out across 4,000 miles of ocean.

Thanks to Sam, Ella and Nell for this limerick:

Little oarsman set off from Canaries
Crossed Atlantic then Pacific, her course varies,
Forwards, back, sideways and yaw
We ask what is she doing this for?
She must be away with the fairies!

There was also a BRILLIANT one from Joan in Atlanta, but I can’t find it right now. But just wanted you to know, Joan, that I loved it!

I was sorry to hear that Richard of DFW had been taken ill. Richard, I hope you’re soon recovered. Glad you’re still well enough to post comments!

KevinUSA – I laughed out loud at your comments on “The Cruel Tea” and “One Flew Over The Crow’s Nest” – thanks for the light relief!

Gracecloud1954 – thanks for your lovely message. I promise I’ll be careful!

UncaDoug – thanks for continuing to spread the word. WOM is the most powerful powerful tool known to humankind – even more than Facebook!

Will, Jacob, Stan, and everybody else who has posted comments. Thanks so much for your support.

Sponsored Miles:

Grateful to Beverly (Jonathan) Bignell, Bruce Gervais, Patrick Harney and Diane Freeman for today’s miles.

Yesterday morning everything was well with my world. I had carved a
near-perfect course from Geraldton, arcing just north of the Abrolhos
Islands, and making a respectable 60 nautical miles in two days. The sun
was shining and it seemed that finally I was about to get out into the
open ocean where I could start to relax.

Then I decided to recharge my laptop while the sun was at its peak, the
best time to use the power from my solar panels, and while I was in the
cabin setting up the power inverter for recharging it occurred to me
that I really ought to have check the ship’s batteries. I should really
have been doing this every day as part of my routine, but the battery
monitor hadn’t been working since Hawaii in 2009 so I had fallen out of
the habit.

I turned on the battery monitor. It was showing just 11.4V for each of
the batteries, nowhere near the healthy 12.5V or so that I would have
expected in full sunshine with not a cloud in the sky. There was clearly
something wrong.

I got that horrible panicky feeling in my chest that I get whenever
electricals or technology start to fail me. I resisted the urge to stick
my head in the (metaphorical) sand and ignore the problem. This was
potentially serious.

I called Glenn, the electrician in Geraldton who worked on my watermaker
there. We had a sort of conversation, but made little progress. He
speaks electricianish, which is a foreign language to me. Sorry to sound
so, well, blonde about it, but despite my many attempts, I seem to have
a mental block when it comes to electrical matters. We left it that I
would wait another couple of hours and report back on the status of the
batteries.

Coming back on deck after our call, I spotted a sliver of land on the
horizon. Ah! Maybe this was my lifeline, my last chance saloon for help
before 4,000 miles of open ocean. I checked on the GPS, and
confirmed that I was just 3 miles north of the Abrolhos Islands. I called
Glenn back, he said he could be on the first flight out the next morning
(today) and could even arrange a tow-in to the islands if I wanted it. Cool.

So I found myself on the North Island of the Abrolhos, a beautiful
island of sandy beaches, a few beach houses (or “camps” as they call
them here), and a small population of crayfishermen, temporarily boosted
by a few wives and children still here after the Easter weekend.

And all is now well. It was one of those issues that is difficult to
find, but then thankfully easy to fix. A controller for the solar
panels, which acts a bit like a trip switch, had tripped out and had to
be reset. I felt absolutely vindicated in the decision to stop and call
in Glenn to resolve the problem. There is no way he could have talked me
through it over the phone. I know that in a perfect world I would be
capable of maintaining absolutely every aspect of my boat. What can I
say? I never claimed to be perfect.

So here I am, in yet another unscheduled pit stop. It seems I’m having
the greatest difficulty leaving Australia. I genuinely do love
Australia, but it really is time that I left. Third time lucky?

Other Stuff:

Poor Mum. I’m causing her major headaches here in the administration of
sponsored miles. Is that miles from Freo, miles from Geraldton, or miles
from North Island?! So long as everybody gets thanked, at around the
right time, I hope you will make allowances for the administrative
nightmare that this has become!

Many, many thanks to Mike and Cath Davidson, who have provided bed,
board, and crayfish tails during my unscheduled sojourn on North Island.
Mike has towed in two other ocean rowing crews over the last few years,
which just goes to show how common it is for things to go wrong rather
than right.
As Mum said when I spoke to her from their phone last night, I seem to
be incredibly lucky at finding the nicest people everywhere I go. A
truer word was never spoken.

Sponsored Miles – rowed by Roz since departing from Fremantle! More coming up when she starts rowing again. (Rita Savage.)

Rita Savage reporting again.
Roz has made good mileage today having rowed a distance of 28.27 miles since noon yesterday, but noticed that the batteries were not charging as well as they should. It is not a major problem but as she was very close to the Abrolhos Islands, she decided that in the interests of safety and maintaining communication the professional and sensible thing to do was to have it checked out. Roz is there now, and really longing to get going out into the open ocean.

Sponsored Miles:

Thank you today to: Dominic Howell, Stanley Miller, Doug Grandt, Javier Vazquez, Thomas Mechlin (Texino), David Finn, Hans Verwey, Sally Phillips, Beverly Bignell, Rolando Cuadrado, Nick Perdiew, Angela Hey. Roz was enjoying the rowing today.

Second day since relaunch.

My apologies for delegating my mother to write my blog last night. It
was quite possibly one of the roughest nights I have spent at sea (7
metre swell topped off with wind waves), and I was still getting my sea
legs, and tapping away on a laptop was simply beyond me.

It was so rough that I put out the sea anchor, not to mitigate backwards
drift which is the usual reason, but to reduce risk of capsize. The sea
anchor holds the bow into the waves so the water flows down the sides of
the boat, rather than broadsiding her and knocking her over.

The ocean wasn’t exactly breaking me back in gently. I reckon I got
about half an hour’s sleep in total. The rest of the night I lay in my
bunk, being bounced around by the waves, worrying. I couldn’t help
wondering if the repaired towing eye was strong enough to hold the sea
anchor, and whether water was getting into the locker where the
watermaker pump now lives, and whether I was going to capsize.

To be honest, I was quite scared. The ocean was in a wild mood, and my
worries were getting the better of me. I had to give myself stern
talking to, to remind myself to have faith in Shane and Glen’s skill, to
have faith in my boat, and to have faith in myself.

After what felt like one of the longest nights of my life, morning
finally came. I am happy to report that the towing eye (and therefore
the sea anchor) remained attached to the boat, and that the watermaker
pump was well clear of any water. And although rather tired today, I
survived the night with sanity more or less intact.

So we are back in business.

Other Stuff:

I hope you’ll have seen some of the pics of my departure yesterday
morning. Thank you so much to the friends who came along to see me off -
Don and Margaret Ferguson from Leeman, Daryl and Gaynor Gangell from
Geraldton, Shane Donegan, Colin Leonhardt, Lesley, the folks from GWN
TV, and of course June – who hopefully by now is about to get on a plane
back to San Francisco, finally relieved of her charge. Thanks, Daryl,
for the Dairy Milk Easter eggs. ‘Fraid I’m not quite managing to ration
myself to one a day, but there are still a few left!

Photo: Not even a cloud in the sky to photograph today, so we’ll have to
make do with a pic of me!

Sponsored Miles

Nicola Tsang, Anke Altermann, James van Bemmel, Geoff Howard, Doug Grandt, Tanya Babalow, Phil Connor, Dominic Howell, Michael Abolins, Curtis Zingg, Shannon Fogg, Tim Hockman, James Borleis, David Quinlan.